


The Burden of Knowledge

by ThereIsAlwaysAnotherSecret



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love, Manipulation, Partnership, Psychological Trauma, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 89
Words: 591,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22240843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsAlwaysAnotherSecret/pseuds/ThereIsAlwaysAnotherSecret
Summary: This is the first fan-fic I ever wrote and, of course, it got way out of hand. This story is about my character, Fela Cousland, a young woman with a particular knack for reading other people. Following the betrayal of her family, she is to become a Grey Warden at Ostagar, which she is not exactly thrilled about. It does, however, give her purpose during the greatest shistorm of her life. In the eye of said shitstorm, she finds Alistair, who quickly becomes her most trusted friend. And from there, well, that's where it REALLY got out of hand.I should give you a fair warning, this is full of triggers for some people. Violence, discrimination, strong language, mentions of rape, severe psychological trauma, depression, and manipulation. I'll try to give proper warnings in the notes at the beginning of each chapter. Please read these at your own discretion, and I hope you'll enjoy reading this virginal fan-fic. You might notice mistakes when it comes to language, as I am not a native speaker of the beautiful English language and don't have a beta reader. I do however, prefer to write in it, so go easy on me when you give me your much appreciated tips ;)I don't own Dragon Age, but you knew that.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	1. The Almost-Templar on the loose

**Author's Note:**

> The story takes off after Fela and Duncan arrive at Ostagar, meaning I skipped right to meeting Alistair. It's written from Fela's point of view, who obstinately takes on the task of saving Ferelden, and possibly Thedas, from a Blight. Mostly out of a sense of rebellion against an evil prick that threatens to fuck up her world even more, and a little out of a sense of duty. And maybe a little because she needs a shin to kick. Or rather, some nice solid evil to stomp into the ground so she can stop feeling like a victim. So yeah, it starts out pretty angsty and emotional. But don't worry, Fela herself doesn't like it much either. In a state of debatable sanity, she meets Alistair, and then we get to the hacking and the slashing proper.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela has just arrives at Ostagar where she meets Alistair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed a bunch of typo's, so I've been editing but I didn't really change anything. Anyways, this is the first fanfic I ever wrote, and yes, I'm still writing. You could say it got a little out of hand.

“I’m sorry-what?” I asked absentmindedly as my eyes were drawn back to the young Grey Warden I assumed must be Alistair, he must finally be done bickering with the mage, who was now storming off.  
“The Blight, how it has a funny way of bringing people together,” he grinned.  
“Uh, yeah, sure. I don’t know,” I mumbled while twirling the end of my braid.  
“We haven’t met before, have we? You’re not another mage?”  
I looked at him before responding to his question, inquisitive hazel eyes looked back at me.  
  
“Why? Would that make your day worse?” I blurted it out without even thinking, I was in no condition to make polite conversation. To say I was distraught would be the mother of all understatements. I also felt reluctant to explain my ‘distraught’ demeanour. Thankfully, he laughed at my comment,  
“You must be Duncan’s new recruit. I apologize, I should have recognized you right away,” he said and ran a hand through his hair.  
“Don’t worry about it,” I said and extended my hand, “Fela.”  
He took my hand and shook it, “Alistair,” he answered, “Duncan spoke quite highly of you.”

I didn’t know how to respond to the compliment so I decided to change subjects.  
“So what can you tell me about the Joining?” I asked. I noticed the playful gleam in Alistair’s eyes wither and worry beginning to set in. 

_Great..._

  
“As junior member of the Grey Wardens, I will be escorting you and the other new recruits into the Wilds, where we will begin preparing for the Joining,” he said matter-of-factly. It sounded rehearsed. His switch in attitude suggested he had been specifically instructed to keep quiet. And I didn't like being kept in the dark.  
“And what exactly does this Joining entail?” I made no effort to hide my impatience, I really needed to know what to expect. Especially now.  
“I would like to tell you more, but these lips are sealed.”  
 _  
Goddamnit._  
  
“Fantastic, very mysterious,” I said with a mild sneer, "don't bother informing the participants of the proceedings."  
Alistair just gave me a reassuring smile, “I remember feeling the same way.”

Well, that was unexpected.

“Then you must understand my apprehension, it seems like everyone knows what is in store, and that it’s a very big deal, and yet no one will tell us new recruits, the ones who will actually undergo this Joining, a damn thing.” Alistair gave me a sympathetic look, but he did not give me more information on the subject.

“Fine, I submit to your secrecy,” I shrugged, “just so you know, that look of worry in your eyes did not go unnoticed.” Alistair blushed at my words and let out a nervous laugh. “Wow, observant,” he ran a hand through his hair again, “so you’ve met the other recruits already?” he asked, and I just nodded.

Neither recruit left much of an impression. Daveth obviously thought himself quite the womanizer, I had no patience for that at that moment. The other, I forgot his name already, seemed like an alright bloke, if you didn’t count his obvious cowardice and prejudice. Think what you like, it had nothing to do with high or low birth. It had to do with what I expected from companions that were supposed to have my back in battle. One of them seemed likely to grab my ass and the other seemed likely to run away. So forgive my lack of enthusiasm.

At least Alistair seemed decent enough, and I had to admit I had already taken a liking to him. Even if he wouldn’t tell me more about the Joining, which did nothing for my mood. But he seemed to take it in stride, he wasn’t offended by my frustration about the whole thing.

“Yeah, they uh, said they were going to find Duncan.”  
“Well unless you have other things you want to do before we go, let me accompany you back to camp.” I nodded and we started walking.

“So how long have you been a Grey Warden?” I asked, I guess I could do some polite conversation after all.  
“About six months, Duncan recruited me too. He went through quite a bit of trouble for it,” Alistair said.  
“How so?” I asked, this peaked my curiosity. If anything, Duncan went through quite a bit of trouble to recruit me too.  
“I grew up in a Chantry, and _Maker_ did I hate it there. Duncan saw I wasn’t happy and he thought my training as a Templar could double for fighting darkspawn.”  
“You were a Templar? A mage-hunter?”

I raised my eyebrows, Alistair seemed so different from the Templars I had met before.

“Almost a Templar, I never took my final vows, Duncan saved me from that,” Alistair corrected.  
“What do you mean?”  
“The Grand Cleric refused to let me go, Duncan had to invoke the right of conscription. Maker was she angry.”

I made no effort to hide my surprise, I never would have taken him for a Templar. I mean, he seemed so, I don’t know, playful? I guess? The Templars I had met so far were all solemn, duty obsessed, kind of self-righteous, and, well, dull. Don’t get me wrong, if a mage has become an abomination, all that sense of duty was a good thing. So long as they didn’t start killing mages left and right just to be safe, I was fine with Templars. But to picture Alistair as one of those self-righteous knights who claimed to be doing the Makers will, was, well, ridiculous. For lack of a better word. Not that I thought he would make a bad Templar. I am rambling. What I mean is that this guy Alistair seemed like fun, someone who you could have a good time with.

I had never met a Templar who made the same impression.

“Why do you think she refused to let you join?” I asked.  
“Well, I guess they don’t like letting people who know their secrets roam Ferelden without some kind of insurance,” he gave me a sly smile.  
 _All right, I’ll bite,_ “and what secrets would those be?”  
Alistair grinned even wider, “wouldn’t you like to know?”  
“Surely they have nothing to do with the Joining?” I teased in my best 'noble lady' voice.

Yeah, I was never really an exemplary Lady. It didn’t come naturally to me, it was a bit like acting. Slipping in and out of a role I was playing.

“That they do not, but I still won’t tell you,” he smirked.

_Bastard._

“Fine, I will let you enjoy being shrouded in mystery,” I said feigning terrible disappointment.

What’s this now? I had been so occupied with my grief, I had felt like a walking corpse for days. Now this silly, blond, almost-Templar had managed to draw me out of my, presumably empty, shell. I decided it was a good thing, at least it took my mind off my family for a brief moment.

“What about you?” Alistair asked.

 _Crap_ _I should have seen this coming._

“I uh, grew up in Highever.”

_Think, Fela, think! Steer the conversation away from your home._

“You mentioned, insurance? You know about almost-Templars on the loose?”  
Alistair laughed, “almost-Templar on the loose, I’m gonna remember that one.”

_Nailed it._

“I was talking about lyrium. Templars use it to enhance their abilities. As a result, we become addicted.”  
“And since lyrium trade is monopolized by the Chantry,”  
“Templars have no choice, the addiction forces them to stay in line,” Alistair finished my sentence.  
“So, lyrium is the leash that binds Templars to their master,” I said.  
“Exactly,” Alistair affirmed.  
“So, were you addicted to lyrium?”  
“No I was never given lyrium. You don’t need it to learn Templar skills, but apparently it enhances them. Templars don’t get lyrium until after their final vows,” Alistair explained.

He grinned like he knew something I didn’t, “my turn to ask a question.”

_Shit._

“What was it like, growing up in Highever?”  
I shrugged and parried the question, “what was it like growing up in a Chantry?”  
“You first,” he demanded.

 _Goddamnit!_ Why wouldn’t he take a hint and accept my silence on the matter? He must have seen my discomfort at the question.

“I-it was uh,” I began stammering, but he interrupted me.  
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, it’s ok. Bad memories then, I won’t pry. ”  
“No, you’ve got it wrong,” I said, “they’re good memories, that’s… up until it all went to shit.”

I felt my eyes starting to tear up, oh Maker I so did not want to make a scene. _Control yourself Fela, breathe._ Alistair’s eyes found mine, and something in the way he looked at me threatened to break my cracked composure.

“I’m sorry I- I should have known better than to pry, is there something I can do?” he asked gently.

I just broke into a million pieces right there. Hot tears streamed down my face, my shoulders shook uncontrollably as I sucked in a desperate breath. Alistair raised his hands as if to hold me, but stopped halfway through the motion. Unsure of what to do. He settled for putting a hand on my arm in an attempt to comfort me without overstepping any boundaries. I had little regard for boundaries in that moment. I let him comfort me and leaned in to his chest. Which was covered in a breastplate but I wasn’t complaining.

“I am so, so sorry,” Alistair whispered.

Well, that was the final blow for my already crumbling composure. I sobbed uncontrollably, all my grief and despair came pouring out. And it wasn’t pretty. Even so, Alistair held me closer and just let me cry it out. Which took pretty long, let me tell you. I thanked the Maker that Alistair was a broad-shouldered man, I could sort of hide in his embrace.

I felt like I was making such a fool of myself, I hated thinking of myself as hysterical but there it was. I just went, absolutely, fucking, hysterical.

_Splendid, way to make a first impression Fela, no really, you’ve outdone yourself._

Alistair put his hands on my shoulders and looked at me intensely.

_Oh shit, shit, shit, shit, what did I do now._

“I-I’m sorry, I’ve made such a bloody fool of myself.”  
I barely had the sentence out before Alistair spoke, “no, no, don’t do that.”  
“Do what?”  
“Apologize for being human.”  
“Wha-?”  
“Most of us here haven’t exactly had a rosy past, it’s often how we end up here.”

I just stared at him.

“How about this, if you want, you can tell me what happened and I can hopefully offer some comfort. Or, we could go into the Wilds and hack some darkspawn to pieces, work some of that grief out the old-fashioned way.”

I let out an involuntary chuckle, “break some stuff, I would like that.”

_Genius._

“Good, I find it a very effective and healthy coping style,” he said and turned to lead me back the rest of the way back to camp.

“Alistair?”  
He turned back around, “yeeeeees?”  
“Thanks, and uh, best fucking idea ever.”

I smiled.

_Holy shit I just smiled, I thought my face forgot how to do that._

“I have many more, stick around if you want to see what happens,” he gave me a wicked grin.

Naturally, I did want to see what would happen.


	2. Meet and Greet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair guides the new recruits into the Wilds, where they come face to face with darkspawn. But the Wilds hold more than darkspawn, and Fela never paid much heed to the saying; 'curiosity killed the cat.' Morrigan makes her entrance, and takes the group to Flemeth. Who leaves quite an impression.

I cleaned myself up as best as I could on the rest of the way back to Duncan and my trusty Mabari, Asher. I just hoped my eyes looked normal, puffy, red eyes would be a dead give-away of my moment of weakness. Wet, slobbery, and embarrassing moment of weakness. Asher came galloping in my direction as soon as he sensed me.

“Hey boy, are you happy to see me?”

I reached to pet Asher, hoping that I could keep my face hidden from the others by looking down at my dog. Such a good boy, always there to rescue me. He gave me a lick in return, indeed happy to see me.

Duncan greeted us when we approached, “good you are all here, are you ready to prepare for the Joining?”

I nodded, and saw Jory, _right, that_ _was his name,_ and Daveth do the same.

“You realize there is no turning back, you either leave now or you can stay and see the Joining through to the end.”

I half expected Jory, the one without balls, would leave and run home to his pregnant wife. He didn’t. Maybe I was wrong about him.

“You have two tasks to complete before we can begin the Joining. First, I need you to collect three vials of darkspawn blood.”

_Ah, peachy._

“Alistair will accompany you into the Wilds, where you will find the darkspawn. Secondly, I need you to locate an old Grey Warden tower. There are documents inside I need you to retrieve.”

Since everyone stayed silent, I decided to move things along.

“Darkspawn blood and documents, got it.”  
“Good, your Mabari can stay here, Fela. He’s been good so far. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

And then Jory spoke up.

“We’re going into the Wilds? But, what about the dangers? The darkspawn?” I guess I wasn’t wrong about Jory.  
“That is why Alistair is with you,” Duncan responded matter-of-factly.  
“Well, we are going to have to face darkspawn sooner or later. I’d rather it be sooner, you know, _before_ we fight an entire horde,” I sneered.

I should probably have kept my mouth shut, but I just couldn’t muster the will to put up with this whining. Asher gave a low growl at Jory when he sensed my hostility towards him.

“She’s not wrong,” Daveth shrugged “I say we go take a look at what we’re up against.”  
I turned to my Mabari, “stay with Duncan, Asher, be a good boy.” He gave me a happy bark in response and flopped down next to Duncan, wagging his tail.

I turned to Alistair, “lead the way.” He gave a nod and we made our way to the western gate.

* * *

The Wilds, how do I describe it... It was beautiful, and it was dangerous, but we already knew that. It was quiet, in an ominous kind of way. I couldn’t help but feel we were being watched. I kept my hands close to my rapiers.

They were fine weapons, made for finesse. Very much unlike Jory’s broadsword, which was made to hit things as hard as you could, hoping to slice away at an opponent. It was brute strength that was required to wield a broadsword. Effective as they were, broadswords were not my weapon of choice. I was petite, tall and slender, and though I was in damn good shape, a broadsword was too unwieldy for me to swing around for an extended period of time. Rapiers were my weapon of choice. Seeing as most of my opponents were bigger, stronger, and heavier than me, I wasn’t going to get into a strength contest. Rapiers allowed me reach, speed, and precision. Brute force is overrated. And dual-wielding was even better. Give your opponent two sharp things to keep an eye on instead of one. I suppose I was ambidextrous, I neither favoured my left nor my right hand, I had expert control of both rapiers. And did I exploit that advantage to the fullest. When we came across our first darkspawn, I didn’t hesitate. I immediately drew my weapons and got to work.

They were a bunch of _ugly_ motherfuckers, grey skin pulled tight over their skulls, exposing teeth and bone. The larger ones seemed to be near bursting out of their skin, muscle and sinew lay exposed where it was pulled too tight. I swirled between them, landing lethal blows with precision and efficiency.

The act of slaying monsters was, well, _awesome._

It felt like a deep inhalation after only being able to take shallow breaths for a very long time. It got my blood pumping, Maker, I felt like I came back alive. With every satisfactory slice I felt my pain burn away. I stabbed the last one in his chest and finished him off with a lethal swipe across his throat. Then I pulled my blade out of his chest and wiped it on his shabby leather armor.

Alistair gave me a respectful nod, “I am impressed,” he said, looking down at the five darkspawn I had just taken down on my own.  
“Next time, try to share,” he added.

I snickered involuntarily, I took pride in my skill, bite me. We encountered plenty more darkspawn after that, and I enjoyed every kill. It was different, fighting actual, solid evil standing in front of you. It felt right.

When we reached the tower, well, ruin, we found no documents. The chest they were supposedly in had been broken and looted. We searched through the rubble for a while, but it was fruitless.

We were trying to decide what to do when Morrigan appeared.

She was… not what you would expect to find in the Wilds. She was beautiful. Raven hair tied back, skin like virgin snow, and golden glowing eyes. Yep, golden. Her clothing was torn, and somewhat ragged. But on Morrigan’s shapely form, they did nothing to diminish her beauty. I have to admit that I didn’t hear what she said, I was too busy oggling her. What can I say, I appreciate beauty.

“What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?”

I assumed she was addressing me, behind me I could hear the guys whispering about witches. They were not going to be much help here.

“Neither, the Grey Wardens once owned this tower.”

I hoped I had just given a sensible answer.

“’Tis a tower no longer, it belongs to the Wilds now,” Morrigan purred

“W-witch!” Daveth suddenly blurted.

I let out an audible groan, this was _such bullshit._ I preferred a pragmatic approach. We came looking for documents, none were here. Now we find this lady, and I see only one way of getting more information. Morrigan just laughed at Daveth, and I have to say, it was cackling and enchanting at the same time. Dare I say, witchy? Morrigan proceeded to ridicule the frightened Warden recruits and turned her attention back to me.

“You seem to be the more sensible of the lot, one woman to another. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”  
That seemed reasonable, “you can call me Fela, pleased to meet you.”   
“Manners in such a place as this? What a nice surprise, you can call me Morrigan.”  
“Could you tell me more about this ruin?” I asked.  
She scoffed, “you wish to know about the scrolls, and who took them.”

_Fine, a more direct approach then._

“Did you take them?”  
“No.”  
“Do you know who did?”  
“‘Twas, my mother,” she sighed.

I paused, “you’re joking right?”

Morrigan scoffed at that, “no ‘tis no joke, it was indeed my mother who took them.”  
Alistair chimed in, “you don’t actually believe her do you?” he asked me.  
I shrugged, “do you have any great ideas to find the scrolls?”  
“Should have seen that one coming,” Alistair shook his head, “lead on then.”

I nodded in appreciation and glanced over my shoulder towards Daveth and Jory. They looked at me nervously, I took their silence as their approval.

“Splendid,” Morrigan called, “shall I accompany you to see my mother then?”

I was just about to speak when Jory beat me to it, “w-wait, we’re not actually following her are we? Sh-she’s a witch! Witch of the Wilds!”

I raised my hand to my forehead, _again with the whining._

 _“Goddamnit guys!_ Did your spines just slide out your asses? You’re either coming with us or staying here. Your choice, I don’t care either way. Just quit whining about dangers and then following anyway only to start whining again later. We’re losing daylight.”

I spat the words at them, I was so done with this. I just wanted to get the scrolls and get out of there, and murder some more darkspawn along the way. Alistair stared at me with raised eyebrows. _“_

 _What?”_ I growled.  
“Nothing. I am simply impressed, if slightly intimidated.”

Well being raised a noble Lady had its perks. Many actually, I was used to being in charge. I was good at manipulating people, be it by being persuasive or intimidating. And the thin sliver of patience I had left didn’t tolerate any bullshit at the moment. I was also just fresh out of fucks to give, and I admit that led me to be reckless.

“Has a decision been reached?” Morrigan asked impatiently.

I looked behind me again.

“Yes, please take us to your mother. But, forgive my being so forward, I have to ask; you’re not going to pull some stunt on us that will result in injury or our deaths, are you?”

I figured Morrigan had as little patience for bullshit as I had at that moment, she appreciated manners but seemed to appreciate brutal honesty as well.

Morrigan just rolled her eyes, “I promise you will come to no harm from either me or my mother. That is, unless you attack first,” she said impatiently.  
“Fair enough, lead on then,” I said and proceeded to follow Morrigan.

Alistair was right behind me, Jory and Daveth took up the rear. Fine by me. Morrigan may be cold, and well, bitchy. But right now I preferred her cold bitchiness to the incessant whining from Jory and Daveth.

And Alistair, I don’t know, he just sort of let me do my thing.

He _did_ say he wasn’t here to make things easy, so it made sense he was letting us run the show instead of holding our hands. As it happened, Jory and Daveth had no interest in running the show, so I did. I was used to being in charge anyway. And safety was not high on my list of priorities at the moment.

Morrigan led us to an old looking hut, her mother stood out front, waiting for us.

“Mother,” Morrigan greeted the old woman, “these are the Wardens looking for the scrolls, I would properly introduce you but only Fela over there bothered to give me her name.”

That’s right, Alistair, Jory, and Daveth never did. So I took it upon myself.

“Pleased to meet you, these are Alistair, Daveth, and Jory.”

Oh yeah I just did, I gave their names to two scary women in the Wilds. I saw Jory’s and Daveth’s eyes widen,

“Oh hush boys, remember your manners,” Morrigan’s mother spoke, “you may call me Flemeth. Would you kindly get the scrolls for our dear Wardens Morrigan? We mustn’t keep them too long, they have important things to do after all.”  
Morrigan rolled her eyes at her mother but complied, “as you wish mother,” she said in a tired and annoyed tone.

“Wait, Flemeth? _The_ Flemeth?” I asked, forgetting my manners.  
“Well that depends girl, to whom do you refer when you say _the_ Flemeth?”  
“Flemeth the shape-shifter, Witch of the Wilds, Flemeth from the stories that people tell to scare their kids into obedience?”

She let out a cackling laugh, I wasn’t sure if she was amused or… something else.

“Believe what you will, only fools believe in children’s stories.”

With that she effectively ended that line of questioning. Luckily, Morrigan soon emerged with the scrolls.

“As per your request, mother,” she made no attempt to hide her sarcasm.  
“Good. Now, before you start barking, the seals wore off before long I took the scrolls, I have kept them safe for you.”

I looked at Alistair, wondering if he had come to the same realization as I just did. Flemeth knew we would come for the scrolls and apparently wanted us to have them. _Why?_ What was her stake in all this? Were those even really the scrolls we were after? How could I know? Flemeth sensed my hesitation and waved the scrolls at me.   
“Thank you,” I tried not to let my suspicions show but I am fairly certain I wasn’t fooling Flemeth, or Morrigan for that matter.

“I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”  
“Bah,” Flemeth said with a wave of her hand, “go on now girl, you have important matters to attend to. Morrigan will accompany you back to your camp.”  
“What-” Morrigan began.  
“Hush girl, these are your guests, it wouldn’t do to deny them a proper send-off.”

This was getting weirder by the second, Flemeth had peaked my curiosity. She looked old and frail, actually she tried very hard to seem harmless. I studied her as she turned to Morrigan, this woman was not frail. No, not old and frail at all. Well, maybe she _was_ old but I had the nagging suspicion that old in human-terms meant something entirely different from… Flemeth-terms...

She looked human, but she didn’t feel that way. She lacked… something. It was a rare thing for me, to meet someone who befuddled me like this. I couldn’t read her, it was as if she spoke a different language. Non-verbally. It’s hard to explain, Flemeth roused a lot of instincts within me that told me she was dangerous. What I couldn’t figure out was, what _kind_ of dangerous. But I felt certain it was best to just leave now as she requested. She definitely wanted something.

“As you say mother,” Morrigan spoke through clenched teeth, she was not happy to run errands. Or she was just not happy to spend more time in our company, which I agreed with for two of the three people we were with.

* * *

Morrigan guided us back to the gate without running into any darkspawn. I thanked her again and she took off with barely a nod.

“Well, you certainly have a knack for making new friends,” Alistair said when Morrigan was out of view and we were safely back at camp.  
“I also have a knack for getting things done,” I countered.  
Alistair laughed, “that you did, but tell me honestly, what do you think of Morrigan and Flemeth?”

I thought about it for a moment.

“Morrigan is cold and distant, I am fairly certain she has not had a lot of contact with other people beside her mother. Who must have had a strong influence on how her personality developed. Flemeth _looks_ like a crazy old lady, but she definitely has ulterior motives. She _wanted_ us to have the scrolls, there has to be something in it for her. I don’t think she is the kind of… person, that would do something without motive. I trust neither of them, but they did give us the scrolls and she never threatened us. Flemeth is definitely experienced in manipulation, but she wouldn’t have learned that if she had spent her entire life in a swamp, far away from people. I wonder about her… there was something… off. It wasn’t that she’s an apostate, or that she’s a powerful one, she’s… something I’ve never seen before. Seemingly human, but… more than that. Something rare and dangerous.”

Alistair gaped at me, “you got all of that from one brief encounter?”  
I nodded, “some people referred to me as a mind flayer once…” I mumbled, then I raised my hand to my mouth, “tell me I didn’t just say that out loud?” I looked at Alistair expectantly.  
“I can pretend I didn’t hear it if you want?” he offered.

_Blast._

“No it’s alright, just don’t make a big deal out of it. We should get back to Duncan, see if we can get on with this Joining.” I said and started to walk, Alistair, Jory, and Daveth just followed. I could hear Jory whispering to Daveth, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. I distinctly heard ‘Fela’ and ‘witches’ several times. I just shrugged it off, I didn’t feel like dealing with that right now. I could kick Jory’s ass later.

After a few more steps I saw Asher running towards me, I greeted him with a hug.

 _“There’s my boy,_ have you been good, huh?” I asked while petting him vigorously. He rolled on his back to let me rub his belly.

“Why don’t you introduce us?” Alistair asked, he squatted down next to me and let Asher sniff his hand.  
“Asher, this is Alistair. Alistair, Asher,” I said while pointing from one to the other and back, Asher followed my hand with his gaze and gave a happy bark.  
“Smart dog, aren’t you?” Alistair said while scratching Asher’s ears.  
“Not just a dog, a mighty Mabari,” I corrected, “and yes, they tend to be highly intelligent. _Yes your are, you big smarty-pants, yes you_ are!”  
“Suits you,” Alistair said, “like master like dog, sorry Mabari, huh?” Asher licked Alistair’s hands in approval.  
“Flattering,” I observed, “looks like you have a new friend Asher. I’m afraid he doesn’t have any treats for you though, so you can stop giving him that look.”

Asher cocked his head in an attempt to look at me innocently. Meanwhile Jory and Daveth had just stood quietly nearby, I suppose my sharp tongue might have put them off a bit. Not to mention Asher was a big, scary-looking dog, even for a Mabari. His presence tended to keep people at a distance, just the way I liked it.

They would just have to deal with it.


	3. The Joining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having completed the tasks Duncan has given them, the recruits are ready for the Joining. Following the ritual, Fela and Alistair get send to the tower of Ishal. What should have been a side-line mission turns into long and bloody battle. Fela gets to see what Alistair can do in a battle now that he isn't holding back.

When we finally made our way over to Duncan, we handed him the scrolls and the vials. Alistair briefly informed him about Morrigan and her mother. Duncan just nodded and checked the scrolls. Apparently they were what he was looking for and he didn’t think too much of our encounter. He did remind Jory and Daveth that Grey Wardens accept help where they could find it when they started complaining. Point for Duncan. He handed the scrolls back to Alistair for safe-keeping.

We took Asher to the kennels and got on with the Joining ritual after that.

Duncan took us to a more secluded part of the ruin, very mysterious of course. I had expected nothing less. It wasn’t much for ceremony, Duncan explained we would each drink from a chalice with darkspawn blood and some other obscure ingredients. We would be Grey Wardens after that, if we survived. Alistair spoke a few words at Duncan’s request, and then Daveth took the chalice first.

He raised it to his mouth and immediately after swallowing, he started groaning with pain. Duncan took the chalice from Daveth’s hand as he arched his back and his eyes rolled back in his skull. He collapsed on the ground, scratching at his throat, let out a few more gurgling sounds, and stopped moving.

“I’m sorry Daveth,” Duncan spoke solemnly. He then turned to Jory.

I do hate being right all the time. Jory refused to drink from the chalice, pleading that he would never have agreed if he had known the risk of dying. He even went as far as drawing his sword. Duncan was forced to kill him.

Then it was my turn. From what I had seen, the choice was between maybe dying and definitely dying. I decided to take my chances with the chalice. I took it from Duncan without a word, looked at the dark substance and swirled it before lifting the chalice to Alistair and Duncan like it was a cup of wine, and taking a deep drink. If I was going to die, I might as well do it with some style. I held Duncan’s gaze as I drank, and angrily threw the chalice away from me.

I hoped I dented it.

* * *

The pain hit me like lightning, I could feel the Taint burning in my veins as it spread through my body with frightening speed. I lifted my hands up to my head as I felt it seeping into my brain. Like drops of water slowly trickling down a stone surface. I felt a faint buzzing rise up in the back of my mind, like whispers. It was impossible to hear what they said, but they were definitely malicious, dripping with hatred.

Without warning, the image set itself in my minds-eye, causing me to gasp in shock.

What I saw send a cold sensation down my spine. I saw the horde, vast, immense, shrieking and growling. I absorbed their bloodlust, their hunger for death and destruction. The whispers echoed louder in my mind, swelling to a thundering storm. It felt like I had a thousand spiders in my head by then, their eight-thousand feet scratching at the inside of my skull as they scrambled around. The noise mixing with the deafening whispers.

I was about to lose it, I wanted nothing but to hide and never come out again. I heard a mighty growl, an enormous dragon was… talking. To the horde. To me. It was a monster, an enormous mass of muscle and scales, each of them sharp like razors. Some of them had formed spikes along its head, spine, wings, and tail, making it look like something straight out of a nightmare. It oozed a dark substance, like corruption in liquid form.

Just when I thought my heart would stop beating out of pure, primal fear that the dragon would hear it, I snapped back to reality.

Alistair’s and Duncan’s faces slowly became clear when I opened my eyes. I had passed out it would seem. I didn’t remember falling, but I was alive. I sat up slowly, facing down.

 _Go and live._ I just drank a lethal poison. _Live, my girl, thrive._ I felt a hot, black rage swell up in my abdomen, I was vaguely aware of someone talking to me.

Duncan. He had fed me poison, he had known he was going to do so when he made a promise. A promise that he would ensure I survived. A vow to my dying father, cradled in my mother’s arms. A vow to her, that he would keep me safe.

My fury spread through my body, my limbs, the skin on my face, making reality snap back into focus. It radiated off me as I tensed, looked up at Duncan, and punched him in the jaw.

 _“Motherfucker!”_ I shouted.  
“Wow, easy,” Alistair said as he gently put his hands on my shoulders to calm me down and keep me from punching Duncan a second time.

I shrugged off Alistair’s hands angrily. Duncan had stepped back, rubbing his face where I’d hit him. I glared up at him from my sitting position on the ground.

“You nearly killed me,” I said quietly, my voice like ice and acid.

I broke into a menacing smile, “no wonder you didn’t tell us shit,” I continued.

“How did you feel when you vowed you would ensure my survival?” I spat.

It wasn’t really a question, it was an accusation. Duncan knew the risk, he kept it from me, from my parents. He made a promise he knew he couldn’t honestly make.

“I suppose I deserved that,” Duncan said slowly, not meeting my eye.  
“Damn right, you did!” I snapped.  
“I’m sorry,” he replied.  
I laughed at him, “you’re sorry?” I said in a rasping voice, “what is it exactly that you’re sorry for?” my voice was dripping with contempt, “feeding me poison? Killing two men? The lies? You’ll have to be more specific, considering the many ways in which you _fucked_ _me_ _over!_ ”

“Hey! Ease up already!” Alistair interjected.

Duncan held up a hand to quiet him, “it’s alright Alistair, she has a right to be angry. After all, I did feed her poison, killed two men, and lied to her,” Duncan said. The regret in his voice gave me pause, and my anger simmered down when he looked at me.

I saw it then, the burden he carried, his agony and regret. There was a helplessness to it, he would carry the guilt to his grave, there was no escaping it. So he had given up and accepted the burden as rightfully his to carry.

I gazed into him at that moment, and saw him for what he was. A man who was slowly being eaten away by guilt, regret, grief, and duty. He carried on his duty as it slowly killed him, this was a man who was waiting to die.

I sighed, “Goddamnit, you really are sorry…” I said in a softer tone.

I held his gaze a while longer, trying to decide how I felt. No easy job, as there were many things to consider. As I was trying unsuccessfully to make up my mind, I felt Alistair shuffle nervously. Duncan and I had been staring at each other for a long time now, it was making him uneasy.

Finally I sighed again and shook my head, “I believe you. So… apology accepted.”

Honestly, I’d rather let it go for now. There was plenty of other shit going on. And though I didn’t like it, when I put myself in Duncan’s shoes, I could see why he had done what he did. On top of that, I didn’t _want_ to be furious at him. He’d saved my life at Highever, been my only companion during the first days of grief. I was willing to forgive him on account of what he had already done for me and what I had seen in his eyes.

“And I guess I’m sorry for what I said,” I added.

I felt the tension ebb away and Alistair let out a sigh of relief. I looked to Alistair, who was staring at his feet, and back to Duncan. Neither said a word. So, I broke the silence.

“So is that it then? I’m a Grey Warden?” I asked of them.  
Alistair burst out into laughter, “is that it?” he repeated, “Maker, were you expecting more lethal rituals?”  
Duncan gave the younger man a stern look, “remember the sacrifice, Alistair.”  
“Right, I apologize. Only one of us died during my Joining... But I’m glad at least one of you has made it through.”

He pulled me to my feet, _“Maker_ that hurt,” I groaned, “give me a minute.”

I steadied myself, which took a few moments but eventually I felt able to stand up straight on my own. Control over balance regained, point for me. I thanked Alistair, and turned my attention to Jory and Daveth. I barely knew them, and I didn’t even like them. But seeing them dead on the ground was still difficult.

When I turned back around I saw Alistair holding out a pendant, “it contains a drop of blood you drank, to remind us of our brethren’s sacrifice,” he said, “and that one day we will join them again.”

Everything went so fast after that. After fetching Asher we went to speak to King Cailan and his General, Teyrn Loghain. I don’t know why I was included while they summarized tactics. Alistair and I were to light a beacon on top of the tower of Ishal, we would take no part in the actual battle. Alistair waited until King Cailan, Loghain, and the others were out of ear shot and voiced his disagreement.

“So he needs two Grey Wardens holding a torch up there, just in case?” he protested in a quiet voice.  
“You have no choice in the matter, your King demands it,” Duncan said dismissively, but Alistair wasn’t done.  
“So you put us on the side line,” he crossed his arms, “you know we need to be down there with the other Wardens. And I’ve seen Fela in action, you don’t want a fighter like that on the side line.”

Thank you Alistair, please keep up the compliments.

“I agree with Alistair, if the tower is secure, we can be of more use to you on the battlefield,” I added.

“You will obey the King's command. Now go, you have less than one hour.” With that, Duncan turned and left.

"Fine," I mumbled and turned towards the bridge we needed to cross to get to the tower. “You coming?” I asked Alistair as I started making my way in the tower’s direction. He nodded stiffly and followed me.

For all our disappointment, our task turned out to include darkspawn after all. We were making our way across the bridge when the fighting broke loose. The clanging of metal was deafening, we were surrounded by war. We had a close call when the bridge took a hit from a catapult, but we made it across in one piece.

A mage came running toward us when we reached the other side, “you! You are Grey Wardens, correct? The tower, it’s been overrun with darkspawn! T-the beacon, we need to light the beacon!” I looked at Alistair as I drew my rapiers.

“Sounds like we need to clean house,” he said as he drew his shield and longsword.  
“Let’s get to work then,” I answered.

* * *

We fought our way up to the tower with the mage providing support. Asher hurled himself at any darkspawn limb he could get, we made a great team, Asher and I. But then there was Alistair, if he had been holding back in the Wilds, he certainly wasn’t holding back now. He was a monster on the battlefield, mowing down hurlocks and genlocks with ease. At one point he nearly cut one of the _armored_ darkspawn in half through its belly. We fought back to back, Asher by my side.

As the last darkspawn fell to my blades, we ran up to the tower. Inside we faced more darkspawn, they had created a bottle-neck of sorts by positioning fortifications in such a way that we could only reach them from one opening. And, of course, they had set the fortifications on fire. The fortifications would burn up eventually, but nowhere near quick enough for us to light the signal. If we didn't choke on the smoke before that happened.

We eventually managed to hack our way through the lines of darkspawn. An arrow had grazed my neck where it was exposed. Luckily the damage was minor, the bleeding was minimal and easy to stop. It didn’t slow me down one bit. We slowly made our way up through the tower, fighting darkspawn every step of the way. We lost the mage at some point, a genlock snuck up from behind and slit his throat, I tried not to think about it. I worried we would be too late.

* * *

I kicked the door open, we had finally made it to the top. Unfortunately more darkspawn awaited, this time, accompanied by an ogre.

The smaller darkspawn we took out quickly, but the ogre was still alive and kicking when the last one fell. The beast was huge, swinging its fists at us and anything else it could find. Alistair had his shield and strength to defend himself, I had my dexterity.

When Alistair deflected a blow from the ogre with his shield, I ducked under its arm. I landed on my haunches and spun around to jam both my blades into the back of the creature’s knee. Then made a swiping motion, putting all my weight behind it and cutting into its flesh. I severed the tendons in the back of the creature’s knee. It let out a bloodcurdling howl as it went down on one when the leg gave out.

Alistair took this opportunity to leap up to the creature’s chest with his sword held high. He plunged it into the area just above the collarbone, and the ogre went down. Alistair pulled his blade out as I drove mine into the ogre’s neck. It knocked me aside while reaching for Alistair who now stood on top of its chest and drove his sword down into the ogre’s heart with all his might. It stopped moving.

Alistair helped me up, we were both out of breath, wounded, and exhausted.

“There, the hearth!” he pointed as he pressed a hand to his side and groaned, I rushed over to toss in the torch that hung above it. The mages must have done something, as soon as the torch hit, flames roared up supernaturally high and fast. It was very satisfying.

Alistair hurried as best he could to the edge of the tower to look out over the battlefield, I quickly joined him. Loghain’s forces should flank the horde now.

“No-” Alistair muttered when he saw what was happening, “no, no, no! They are retreating!” he made no effort to hide the panic from his voice.  
“Loghain,” my voice was barely above a whisper, “he betrayed us. Why would he betray us?”

Alistair opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by more darkspawn pouring out of the tower and charging us.

We fought for as long as we could, but there were simply too many of them. We were wounded and exhausted. I don’t know where Asher was at that moment, I despaired at the thought of my pup lying dead somewhere amongst the darkspawn.

At some point I took a sword to my side, then everything went black.


	4. 'Fuck it, let's kill an Archdemon!'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After falling in battle atop the tower of Ishal, Fela wakes up in familiar surroundings. She isn't sure why though, but she gains a valuable companion and decides not to fuss about it. Morrigan leads the Grey Wardens to Lothering, where Fela makes a new friend and gains custody over a lumbering giant.

I woke up stripped nearly naked in unfamiliar surroundings. I was in pain, a lot of it. I slowly examined my wounds, which had already been treated. Someone must have saved me. Huh, lucky.

“Ah, ‘tis good to see you awake. Your companion was starting to get worried.” I recognized that voice, it was unmistakably Morrigan’s.   
“Yeah, uh, thanks. It would appear I have been saved from certain death,” I croaked, I felt at my throat and vaguely remembered the arrow that grazed me when I felt the wound.

_The tower._

“The battle! Are there any survivors?” I pleaded attempting to get up. My head started pounding at the effort and I lay back down.

“Easy there,” Morrigan said, sitting down on the bed next me and gently pushing me down, “I’m afraid the battle was lost when the General retreated with his forces. He quit the field. My mother rescued you and your companion from the tower. Now, if you want to try getting up again, go slow.”  
“My companion… Alistair! Is he ok?” I felt a rush of terror at the thought that he might be dead on top of that tower. And Asher, what had become of my pup?  
“He is fine, he is right outside. But, he is not taking it well. You should go talk to him,” Morrigan said.

“Thank you Morrigan, for everything,” I said and slowly started my second attempt at sitting up.  
“You’re… welcome,” she mumbled, as if she didn’t know how to respond.

Morrigan crossed her arms and got up to lean against the wall while I slowly put some clothes on. My head hurt when I bent over to put my pants on, and lifting my arms was agony. I remembered taking a sword to my side, thank the Maker for ribs. Even if they hurt like hell now. I just pulled my shirt over my head, not bothering to wrap the long piece of cloth around myself that I used to support my breasts. My armor could wait, and I made my way outside.

* * *

“Ah, you are awake, would you please inform your companion you are fine so he can stop his belly-aching?” Flemeth greeted me, I gave her polite nod in response.

“Oh thank the Maker,” Alistair said when he saw me, “I was afraid you would never wake up.” He put his hands on my shoulders, I slightly winched when I felt a stab of pain from my ribs.  
“Yeah, well, no rest for the wicked.” I gave him a wan smile, hoping to diffuse some of the obvious tension.

I saw a smile play around Alistair’s mouth but his expression remained worried. I didn’t blame him, I could see the question plain on his face. What in the Makers name were we supposed to do now?

First things first.

“Are you alright?” I asked him.  
He lowered his eyes and nodded unconvincingly.  
“You uh, haven’t seen Asher anywhere have you? Any idea what happened to him?” Alistair shook his head.  
“Asher? The mutt that wouldn’t leave your side on top of that tower?” Flemeth asked.

My insides fluttered, Asher, ever the protector. She had seen him, maybe he was ok.

“Have you seen him? My Mabari?” I asked, not bothering to hide my worry.  
“Yes, I assumed he was yours. Last time I saw he was alive and not willing to let me take you,” Flemeth said.  
“Did he attack you?”  
Flemeth just laughed, “no he did not, smart dog. He might have tried to follow his mistress,” she offered.

At least my pup was last seen alive, protecting me, perhaps he was still out there.

“What do you mean? Was he unable to follow?” Flemeth laughed again, she was getting on my nerves now. What if he was hurt?

“How much of the battle do you remember?” Morrigan asked.  
“We lit the beacon, saw Loghain retreating, and then we were overrun. I passed out when I took a blow to my side. Then I woke up here,” I said, not understanding what Morrigan was getting at.  
Morrigan took it upon herself to explain, “mother turned into a giant hawk and picked you off the tower. One in each talon.”

I let that sink in for a while. I tried to picture the Mabari’s response to a giant bird flying off with his mistress.

Alistair spoke up, “Mabari are known to be unusually clever and loyal to their masters. I wouldn’t be surprised if he is tracking you down as we speak.”

It was a comforting thought, and he was right about Asher’s loyalty. We had been inseparable since the day my father gave him to me. It hurt to remember Asher as a puppy, a happy, energetic, and rambunctious puppy. Maker, I hoped he was ok.

“If I may be so bold, do you not have more pressing matters to attend to?” Flemeth asked in her mocking and disapproving voice. I met her gaze, there was steel and molten glass in her eyes. Again, I felt a scratching at the back of my mind. Flemeth was seizing me up with her calculating stare, making me feel like prey. Yes, that was what the scratching in the back of my mind was, it was warning me of a predator.

Beneath her gaze, I felt naked and exposed. Refusing to let her intimidate me, I stared back at her. Studying the seemingly frail old woman, searching for what is was that set me on edge. Some hint, a piece of the puzzle of what she was. What might this predator want from me? What was it that she desired?

“The Blight has to be stopped,” Morrigan stated, jerking my attention back to her, she looked at me with stern golden eyes, “is that not your job as Grey Wardens?” she added. I looked at Alistair, he was the real Grey Warden here, not me.  
“Where do we even start?” I half asked him, half asked myself.  
Alistair looked at me with a defeated look in his eyes, “all of us have perished in the battle, Duncan, the King… I don’t even know where to find any other Wardens. Perhaps in Orlais but we could never make it there and back in time to stop the Blight.”

He was right, there were only two of us now. Only two Grey Wardens left to stop a Blight, how the hell do you even do that? It sounded ridiculous, it almost caused me to let out a desperate laugh.

“Well I guess it’s up to us then, fuck it! let’s go kill an Archdemon!”

When the words left my mouth I started laughing anyway, it was absolutely preposterous. Alistair gave me a horrified look, I’m not sure it was because of the Archdemon or because he thought I had gone insane.

“I’m sorry, I-I just… I mean, what are _we_ supposed to do? I would be soft in the head to go toe to toe with an Archdemon.”  
Alistair lowered his eyes in defeat, “please, don’t walk away now,” he whispered, “I cannot do this on my own…” he looked up at me, “I need you.”

I immediately felt like an asshole, how could I ignore that look in his eyes? He looked so alone and vulnerable, and I had taken quite a liking to him. Hell, when I thought he might be hurt or dead it felt like my insides had spontaneously shredded themselves.

“I’m sorry,” I began, “it’s just that, I have no idea where to go from here. I wasn’t even a Grey Warden mere hours before the battle itself.”  
“If I might offer some advice, do you not have three treaties in your possession? The kind that obligates others to come to the Grey Wardens aid?” Flemeth said.  
“Of course! The treaties!” Alistair stood a little straighter, “they bind the Circle of Magi, the Dwarves of Orzammar, and the Dalish elves to us. We might stand a chance if we can build an army,” he said.  
“That is what Grey Wardens do, is it not?” Morrigan added, like it would be that simple.

There was no doubt in my mind these two had some stake in it. I thought about it for a while, it reminded me of the Joining ritual. Either definitely die, or maybe die. Either try to run away, let the Blight happen and perish with the rest of Ferelden. Or take my chances and try to do something about it.

“Well, lying down to die is certainly not going to accomplish anything. Might as well go do something about,” I said, and locked eyes with Alistair again, hoping he would understand the message I was trying to send him. We only had each other now, and I’d be damned if I let it be taken away from me yet again.

“Till death do us part then, let us hope he is in no hurry,” I smiled at Alistair, who blushed and looked away.

We moved to gather what few things we had with us and got ready to leave.

“I shall go prepare dinner then, mother. Will we be entertaining two or no guests?” Morrigan asked.   
“Don’t be silly girl, you are going with them.”  
“What-,” Morrigan began but Flemeth interrupted her.   
“Bah, you've been itching to get out of the Wilds for years, and now an opportunity arises. You will be needed as their guide, you will see this through,” she said coldly.

I saw Morrigan’s internal struggle, I guessed it was between convincing her mother to let her stay or leaving with two strangers on a fool’s errand.

“We do need all the help we can get,” I offered, Morrigan just looked mortified.  
“Do I get no say in this? Mother, this isn’t how I wanted this,” she said giving her mother a hurt look.  
“I know girl,” Flemeth said with an unexpected softness in her voice, “but you must. The Blight threatens us all, even me. I send you on this task, because it is of outmost importance, not out of spite.”

Morrigan stared at her mother for a while with an unreadable gaze.

Finally she spoke, “very well, I shall gather my things,” and disappeared into the hut.

Flemeth turned to us, “I give you that which I value above all, I do this because you _must_ succeed.” Her gaze bored into me again, then I saw something. It wasn't quite fear or worry, it was more like a melancholy of sorts. The kind of melancholy you only see in people who have lived long enough to understand something I couldn't quite reach. Yet. 

Alistair gave me a questioning look, I suppose he was not too thrilled to have Morrigan join us. I was fairly certain she was an apostate, and who knows what more. The almost-Templar’s hesitation was to be expected. But it didn’t outweigh Duncan’s words; Grey Wardens find help where ever they can get it, we must do what is necessary. I would let him come to that conclusion himself and left it alone.

Loud barking came from within the forest, it was unmistakably Asher. My heart jumped and I called him. He came bursting out from the trees at top speed and tackled me to the ground to lick my face.

“Ow, ow, ow, stop that! I love you too boy but you’re hurting me!” Asher got off me and I scratched him behind his ears while still on the ground. I needed a moment to catch my breath.   
“I am _so_ glad you’re here. Are you hurt boy?” I sat up and examined him closely, apart from a few scrapes and probably some impressive bruises, he was fine.   
“Good dog, I can always count on you, huh?” He let out a happy bark. Morrigan emerged soon after my reunion with Asher. She briefly said goodbye to Flemeth and offered to guide us to Lothering, a small town not far from there.

* * *

I walked in between Alistair and Asher, Morrigan was in front of us leading the way. Again she managed to keep us from running into any darkspawn.

“So, where do you think we should go first?” Alistair asked. I would have been content to travel in silence, I was busy being miserable and nursing my many injuries, but Alistair just seemed unable to keep his mouth closed for ten consecutive minutes.  
“Too soon to say, we should gather some information at Lothering,” I said, hoping he would let it drop. He didn’t of course.  
“Well, I was thinking. Maybe we should go to Arl Eamon in Redcliffe.”

That gave me pause, why would Alistair suggest that? I guess he was finally getting the conversation he was trying to have for the last hour.

“What makes you say that?”  
“Well, before I came to the Chantry, I was raised by the Arl,” Alistair began, but he paused.

So _now_ he was finally shutting up. Time for some pay-back then.

“You are going to have to elaborate,” I said in my most serious tone.  
“Right well, I haven’t had a chance to tell you this before. Darkspawn, and ogres, and near death and all that.”  
“Go on, you can tell me,” I encouraged.  
“Ok, so, I’m a bastard. And before you say anything, I mean the fatherless kind. My mother was a serving girl at the Arl’s estate. She died giving birth to me, and the Arl took me in. He practically raised me.”  
“So how did you end up at the Chantry?” I asked.  
“The Arl eventually married an Orlesian woman, Isolde. It caused some problems with Loghain, but he loved her. She… saw me as a threat, I suppose. I am certain she was wondering if the rumours that the Arl was my father were true. And she is nothing if not proud, she went out of her way to make sure I knew I was unwelcome. I was a blemish on their reputation you see, so I was sent to the Chantry at ten years old. By then, Isolde had made sure I felt no longer at home with the Arl.”  
“What a horrible thing to do to a child.”

I felt truly sorry, Alistair was so full of life, so playful and kind. He was the least unlikable person I had ever met. Even if he never did shut up.

“I was so angry, I destroyed my mother’s amulet. It was the only thing I had of her. I tore it off my neck and threw it against a wall, it shattered.” I could hear his voice crack, but he didn’t stop talking.   
“The Arl came to visit me, but I was determined to be bitter. I hated it at the Chantry, and I blamed him for all of it. Eventually, he just stopped coming.”  
“You were young, you felt abandoned, it’s not strange you took it out on the Arl,” I gently touched his arm, hoping to comfort him. Asher decided to walk around me and nuzzle Alistair’s hand.  
“Thanks, both of you,” Alistair said while petting Asher.

“So you’re thinking the Arl might help us?” I asked.  
“I know he will, he is an honourable man. He will do what’s right.”

I couldn’t help but think Loghain was an honourable man once too, but I kept it to myself.

“Sounds good, when we get to Lothering we should get supplies and a map. Then we can decide on a route and see where we go next.” Alistair noticeably lit up.  
“I told you I had many great ideas,” he smirked.  
“It’s not exactly in the same category as slaughtering darkspawn to cope with grief but it is a great idea indeed.”  
Morrigan scoffed, “are you two done with your little heart to heart? I have spotted bandits up ahead blocking the way to Lothering.”

_Great._

I wasn’t looking forward to a fight, walking had helped a bit with the pain and stiffness, but I was still in pretty bad shape.

“Let’s see what they want, I’d rather avoid a fight. Alistair, look menacing. Morrigan, give your best interpretation of the Witch of the Wilds. Asher, show them what a bloodthirsty, poorly controlled, Mabari war hound looks like.” Alistair snickered at that, and noted that Asher was too adorable. Asher was eager to prove him wrong.

The bandits claimed to be toll collectors for the Imperial Highway. One of them must have been dropped on his head one too many times as a baby, a shame he was the only one willing to let us pass without a fight. We ended up fighting the bandits anyway, thank the Maker for Morrigan. She was an apostate indeed, she froze the bandits where they stood. It didn’t take much for us to cut them down.

Alistair and I were both severely wounded on the tower of Ishal, Flemeth had treated our wounds well but they were still there. And they hurt. We would probably have been able to put up a fight, maybe even win, but the cost would have been great if Morrigan hadn’t been there. I thanked her and told her I was glad there was an experienced mage with us. She nodded in recognition.

Let’s see if we can thaw this ice queen’s heart. I’d rather travel with people I could trust, so I needed to bond with her. Unfortunately, she and Alistair did not get along.

“I do wonder Alistair, are you not the senior Warden?” Morrigan asked as we entered Lothering, it was impossible for that woman to speak without sounding like she was either mocking you, very bored, or planning to kill you.  
“I was a Warden before Fela, yes. If only for six months,” Alistair answered, he was obviously uncertain about where this was going.  
“Curious, you are the senior Warden and yet you choose to follow. Is this common policy within the Grey Wardens? Or a personal one?”

I winched, Morrigan knew just how to press Alistair’s buttons.

He responded defensively, “what do you want to hear? That I prefer to follow her? I do.”  
“My, my, so defensive, I wonder is it your pride? Or is it because you’ve been caught staring at her backside?” Morrigan purred.

I held back a girlish giggle. Then I winched at myself. So Morrigan caught Alistair watching my ass, he wasn’t the first guy to do that. I couldn’t help but like it though, even if I didn’t want to admit it.

“Yes, you have hurt my manly feelings, all _one_ of them,” Alistair dismissed.  
Morrigan chuckled, “say no more.”   
“I hate you,” Alistair said. And then they went back to awkward silence.

I decided to visit the inn first, and not just because we needed to eat. I was out to find information, best place to do that is a tavern where the ale makes for loose tongues. Before we went in we were warned by a refugee, it was overcrowded and there were currently some troublemakers inside. Loghain’s men I guessed. And sure enough, the moment we entered we were surrounded by armed men. They didn’t look much like soldiers, I guessed they were mercenaries.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” their leader began, “where might you be off to?” He smiled menacingly. I counted five men, we should be able to take them. I scanned their armor for exposed flesh and other weak spots.  
“To have a drink my friend,” I said in my best impression of 'just a regular friendly person,' “tis been a long way down here, long enough to make a girl mighty thirsty. Why don’t you join us for a drink?” I batted my eyelashes at him smiling sweetly, hoping he would fall for it.  
Before the man could answer another spoke up, “but boss, weren’t we just looking for a woman with exactly her description?”

Of course, Loghain would have known we were at the tower of Ishal instead of dying with the rest of the Grey Wardens on the battlefield. And he knew our names and what we looked like, damnit. Well, jig was up.

I broke into a menacing smile, “and what would make you look for someone like me?” If flirting didn’t work, I could intimidate.  
“Loghain has declared all Grey Wardens surviving the battle at Ostagar traitors to the throne. There is a pretty price on that pretty head, he doesn’t need it to be in one piece though, maybe we can find some use for that mouth of yours.”  
I grinned even wider and drew my blades.   
“Last chance, get the fuck out of here, or I’ll gut you like the pig you are.”

My voice was calm and cold, I felt the adrenaline rush through my veins. My senses sharpened, and time seemed to slow down around me.

“Well there is no need for all of that unpleasantness,” a redheaded girl in Chantry robes stepped in between us, “let’s have that drink, hmm?”

_Nice try._

She was pushed aside and I attacked. Surprisingly the girl rolled onto her feet immediately and joined our tavern brawl. She was good too, we made short work of them. I was about to land a final blow to the last one when he begged me to stop.

“Please! Please, you win Warden, I never saw you here,” he spoke in a trembling voice, “please good lady, I have a family.”  
“You should tie up loose ends Fela, if you are being hunted you don’t want to leave him alive so he can find more friends and come back,” Morrigan said. She was right of course, but I had gotten past blind rage already, I was ready to play a little game with Loghain.

“Take a message to Loghain,” I spoke coldly, “tell him we know, and that the Grey Wardens are coming for him. Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.”

The man stuttered a thanks and an apology and rushed off to deliver my message. Morrigan rolled her eyes at me, but Alistair gave me a nod and an approving look. I turned to the redhead that came to our aid.

“I owe you my thanks, my name is Fela. What might I call you?” I extended my hand and she shook it.  
“Leliana, a pleasure.”  
“You fight well, they don’t teach sisters that in a Chantry do they?” I asked, Leliana smiled.  
“What makes you think I was always in the Chantry? Many of us have led more… colourful lives, before devoting ourselves to the Maker.”  
“I would love to hear more, might I meet you later to share a bottle of wine? As a thank you for your assistance.”

That’s right Fela, find help where ever you can get it.

“Can I come?” Alistair blurted out, I nearly burst out laughing. It sounded so happy and excited.  
“If that is alright with you, Leliana?” I looked from Alistair to her.  
She gave us a warm smile, “it would be my pleasure, and what of your other companions?”

Morrigan made a half-assed attempt at some bad excuse. Asher barked happily.

* * *

We helped out where we could, disposing of more bandits, collecting elfroot, finding mothers of lost boys, exterminating wolves and bears, the list goes on. The Chantry compensated us nicely, I send Alistair to gather any supplies we might need. I wandered through Lothering with Morrigan and Asher. I tried to make some small talk with her, but she was having none of it. I guessed she was mad at me for letting one of the mercenaries live. Well, tough luck for Morrigan. Her moral compass was way off anyway.

“Look there,” Morrigan pointed, “a Qunari prisoner.”

I looked to where she was pointing to see a brown skinned giant sitting in a cage. I couldn’t help but think that he could have busted out of there at any given moment, he was intimidating.

“I do wonder how a village full of spineless cattle managed to catch a Qunari?” Morrigan mused.  
Well, I was taking Duncan’s words to heart.  
“You want to find out?” I asked her.  
I could tell by the glimmer in her golden eyes she was excited to talk to the Qunari.   
“If you wish,” she said dismissively.

_Try harder next time Morrigan._

We made our way over to the caged Qunari, he looked at us menacingly.

“What do you want?” he spoke in a monotone but harsh voice.  
“I was just wondering how you got here?” I wasn’t sure how to approach him, so I decided to be as honest and non-threatening as possible.  
“I will not entertain you, now leave me be.”

_Straight to the point then._

“Tell me, how is it that these villagers managed to imprison a mighty Qunari? Surely they are no match for you?” I asked him.  
“You are correct, I surrendered.”  
I was starting to get a feel for his attitude, I could pry more out of him, “and why would you do that?” I asked.  
“To repent,” he stated.  
“For what?”

Now we were getting somewhere, don’t shut up now.

“I murdered a family of eight, including the children, at their farm.” Wow, this guy did not beat around the bush. It certainly gave me pause. But he would be a great addition to our party, Qunari were extraordinary warriors.   
“I appreciate you are being honest and straightforward with me.”  
“Your thanks are wasted,” he said.

_Piece of work._

“How long have you been in here?”  
The Qunari thought for a moment, “twenty, twenty-five days? I stopped counting,” he said, like he was stating that the weather was currently dreary.  
“Did you survive three to four weeks without any food or water?”  
“Yes.”

Wow, impressive considering he seemed to be in reasonable shape.

“Why haven’t they killed you?” The Qunari didn’t respond.  
“This is a proud and mighty creature, ‘tis not justice to just leave him out here for the darkspawn. Either kill him or set him free,” Morrigan spoke, did I detect a hint of hope in her voice?  
I turned to the Qunari again.

“You said you wanted to repent, I don’t see how dying in a cage helps you do that.” The Qunari looked at me questioningly.   
“If you wish to repent, you can help me and my companions to stop the Blight. A warrior of your obvious calibre would be an invaluable addition. You could help Ferelden, and by doing so repent for your crimes.”

The Qunari considered this for a moment, and he extended his hand, I shook it.   
“Call me Fela, I am a Grey Warden. This is Morrigan, and Asher.”

Now if I were being truly honest, I was kind of afraid he would attack me once I came within reach. But I was not being honest, I was acting very brave while feeling very stupid. But the Qunari shook my hand surprisingly gently and let go.

“Sten,” he answered, “how do you propose to convince the humans to let me join your ranks?”  
“That is going to take some persuasion, luckily I am a very persuasive person. You were imprisoned by the Chantry?” Sten nodded. “I will be back later, I might have made a friend who could help me convince the Revered Mother to let you join me. Or would you like to bust out of there yourself?”  
Sten shook his head, “I will wait.”

Well, this was turning out to be a very productive day, considering I nearly died hours ago.

As we walked back towards the inn to meet Alistair, Morrigan stopped me for a moment.

“Could I have a word?” she asked.  
“Sure,” I said and waited for her to begin talking.  
“What do you intent to do with the Qunari? Sten?” she asked.  
“Exactly what I just told him, I want him to help us fight the Blight. Why?” I answered.  
“And that girl at the inn, Leliana, what about her?”  
“You got me, I was hoping to make another ally.”  
“Is that what you were doing while we were wasting time hunting down bandits, picking flowers, and tracking down dead mothers?” Morrigan huffed.  
“You are going to have to speak plainly, Morrigan,” I crossed my arms.

“We are wasting time, you’re soft and you cannot resist playing hero.”   
“I said speak plainly, not 'start insulting me,'” I said icily.  
“We should be going after those treaties, maybe Alistair’s would-be-father. You waste too much time on trivial things and it’s slowing us down.”

_Good, now we got that out in the open._

“Are you saying I should sit on my ass while Alistair gathers our supplies? Should we not gather any strength we can now that we’re here anyway? You seemed excited enough to go talk to Sten, don’t deny it I saw it in your eyes. What is the real issue?”

“Why am I still here?”

_Ah so that’s what this was about._

“Because you are a very able mage and you have proven yourself an excellent guide. You make quick decisions and although I think your morals are way off, you are an important addition to our party I would not want to miss. You and your mother saved our asses, there would be no Wardens at all to stop the Blight if you hadn’t stepped in. But perhaps you should answer your own question,” I said.

So she was feeling insecure, welcome to the _Goddamn_ club. Try being told you are one of two people being charged with stopping a Blight.

“You don’t wish me to leave then? Because I… helped?”  
I nodded, “exactly, we need you Morrigan. But that doesn’t mean I don’t need other people with other talents as well. We are on a preposterous quest to slay an Archdemon and end a Blight. Chances of success are barely even there. But if we do nothing we can expect certain death due to that very same Blight. And I don’t know about you, but I am not wasting an opportunity to increase my chances of living to tell the tale.”  
“That is a very pragmatic way of looking at it,” Morrigan said, somewhat relieved but I noticed she was still slightly disappointed.

“Why are you afraid that I don’t want you here, Morrigan?”

Busted, the witch knew it, I knew it, even Asher knew it. Morrigan just stared at me furiously. _Try harder next time and maybe you won’t get caught_.

“Very well,” she finally said, “I know you don’t trust me. I wish to remind you I have done everything in my power to keep you safe.”  
“I never forgot, didn’t you just hear me?”

And she stormed off. Great talk Morrigan.

I met Alistair in front of the inn, I told him about Sten before we went inside to meet Leliana. He was… less than thrilled. But he eventually agreed that Sten would be a great help. Thank you Duncan, for handing me that trump card. I have been making good use of it. Try being put in charge and then questioned at every step you take. Judge me later.

Leliana was playing her flute when we entered the inn. I ordered a bottle of wine, three glasses, and a bowl of water, and sat down with Alistair and Asher. We waited for Leliana to finish her song and come to us before opening the wine. It was an… interesting talk. Apparently Leliana had a vision some time ago, she didn’t need to be convinced to join us. She straight up offered her help herself. Crazy as it may seem, she was convinced the Maker wished her to aid us in stopping the Blight. I wasn’t going to say no. Turns out that this Chantry sister was once an Orlesian bard. She wouldn’t tell us much about her previous life, but she told us enough to know she would be a useful ally. She possessed certain skills, such as stealth, lockpicking, manipulation, and killing. I managed to convince her to help us free Sten, and she in turn convinced the Revered Mother to release him into my custody after summing up all we had already done for Lothering.

We found Morrigan waiting for us with Sten. I gave her a nod, which she returned. I took that as a good sign. There was a brief moment of tension when I released the huge man, but he simply asked me to lead on and followed quietly. We met two dwarves on our way out of Lothering, Bodahn and Sandal Feddic. Bodahn opted to travel with us, I warned him about the dangers but he seemed to feel safer with us than alone. Bodahn was friendly enough, and more than happy to trade. His son, Sandal, was a bit soft in the head but sweet. And Maker did the boy know his way around enchantments. We set up camp and divided the watch after dinner. Morrigan would take first watch, and Alistair and me would take second and third. Leliana would relieve us in early morning. I wasn’t quite comfortable enough with Sten to let him watch us while we slept, not yet anyway.

Before I went to bed, I decided to check on Sten. I walked over to where he was sitting.  
“How are you holding up Sten?” I asked, better to be blunt with the guy, he seemed to appreciate that.  
“Why do you ask?” he replied.  
“You have been in that cage for weeks, without food or water. I need to know if you are ok in case we get into a battle,” I explained.  
He nodded, “you wish to know if I am in fighting condition,” he began, “no need for concern, I am well enough.”  
“Glad to hear it,” I said, “is there anything you need?”  
“No.”

Alright, loud and clear Sten, good talk. You big weirdo. I bid him goodnight and sauntered off to my tent. I fell asleep quickly, but it didn’t last.


	5. Hi, my name is Fela and this is my baggage.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela finds Alistair by the fire. In the privacy of night, Fela feels comfortable enough to share some details about her life. It gets pretty angsty, but these two need to develop a relationship, so bear with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to get triggery. Rape, violence, nightmares, I promised to give the warning but I don't want to spoil it either. If you want to read the chapter but skip over the triggery bit, stop reading when Alistair asks how Fela came to suffer from nightmares, I marked it with stars. You can pick up reading at the second row of stars. The rest is also a little angsty, but at least it's canon-typical angst. I mean, Fela lost her entire family, a little angsty writing seems justified.

I woke up with a gasp and sat up in alarm. Asher was next to me, softly whining and licking my hand. “It’s ok boy, just bad dreams.” He let out another quiet whine and I reached to pet him. “Good dog.”

When I was younger I was plagued by nightmares, Asher was always by my side to comfort me. It was one of the reasons my father got him for me, to help me sleep and make me feel protected at all times. The stress caused by losing my family, the Joining, and the battle at Ostagar must have brought them back to the surface. They had been back since Highever. I decided to get up since I wasn’t getting more sleep any time soon, might as well start my watch.

When I crawled out of my tent I saw Alistair sitting by the fire. His features barely lit by the soft flames.

“Bad dreams?” he asked when we locked eyes.  
I nodded, “don’t worry about it, I’m used to it,” I said as I sat down next to him and pulled a blanket around my shoulders.  
“The Joining always causes nightmares. It has something to do with the transition after acquiring the Taint. It connects us to the darkspawn, to the Archdemon. In our dreams we… tap into their hivemind.”

That made sense, I did dream about the horde and the Archdemon. But I had been having nightmares again ever since I lost my family, so I didn’t think too much of it.  
“Anyway I heard you thrashing around, I felt I needed to tell you.”  
I paused for a moment, “thanks, Alistair.”

We both stared into the fire for a while. But of course the silence didn’t last long, I was sitting next to Alistair after all.

“So who are you really?” he quietly asked me.  
“Fela, and a Grey Warden like you.”

It was a weak counter, I knew it wasn’t what he was asking.

“I mean before you were a Grey Warden. You are obviously well-educated, well-trained too, and I dare say you may have spent some time at court. Regular girls aren’t like you.”

I sighed. It had only been a matter of time before there was no more avoiding this conversation.

“My full name is Fela Cousland, Teyrn Bryce Cousland was my father.” I paused to see how Alistair would react, but he just waited patiently for me to continue. “We were betrayed by his vassal, Rendon Howe,” I spat out his name as if it was venom. “When my father was getting ready to march for Ostagar, Howe’s forces were delayed. My father agreed to wait for his forces and send my brother, Fergus, ahead with ours. That night Howe’s men sacked the castle. They killed my sister-in-law and my nephew in cold blood. I found their bodies in their beds. They gutted my father, he was unable to flee with my mother and me. She… she stayed behind… until the end. My parents, they told me to go, to live. Duncan dragged me away. I kicked and I screamed but there was no fighting him,” my voice broke, “I wanted to stay, to defend them until death. I should have died with them,” my words were barely above a whisper, tears ran down my cheeks into my neck.

“Duncan saved my life,” I finally said and gave Alistair a sad smile.

He moved to put an arm around me. I quietly wept against his chest. I felt so lost, so alone, my heart hurt with every beat. I was so tired, too tired. I could feel myself dying agonizingly slow. But death wouldn’t come, I wanted nothing but to let myself sink into oblivion. To cease existing. I was in too much pain.

Alistair just held me, whispering comforting words. Asher came out of my tent and snuggled up against Alistair and me. I stroked his head and buried my face in his fur, Alistair’s arms still around me. Until finally I ran out of tears. Alistair and Asher cradled me, desperately trying to ease my pain. Eventually the calm set in, finally I felt a sliver of relief. Everything inside me was quiet.

I lifted my head to look at Alistair, the warmth in his eyes was unexpected. We shared something in that moment, we had both lost our home, we were both saved by Duncan, and now we had lost him too.

“Duncan saved you too,” I whispered, “he was a good man.”  
“I should have been down there with him,” Alistair said, “Duncan should have been the one that lived, not me. He would have known what to do…” He stared into the fire, the warmth from his eyes was gone, I saw only sorrow.  
“Don’t say that,” I began, “I.. There was nothing you could have done, you would have died with him.”  
“Maybe I should have…” the words were barely audible.

Then he looked back at me, “I guess you know exactly what that feels like,” he said, “you just basically said the same thing about your parents. And I was thinking the exact words that you just used.”  
“A fine pair of Grey Wardens we make,” I said with a slight smile, “we are both convinced we should be dead but here we are, on a quest to stop the Blight. Couple of misty eyed rookies with no clue.” Alistair chuckled at that.  
“Who are you calling a rookie? Speak for yourself,” he teased.

We shared a smile that felt like a breath of fresh air.

I leaned against him, “we are in this together Alistair, I was serious about killing the Archdemon,” I whispered.  
“Like you said, until death do us part,” he answered.

We spend the rest of the night talking about our pasts. He told me about life in the Chantry, how the silence would drive him insane until he started screaming at the top of his lungs just to see who would come running. I told him about Highever, how Asher always raided the pantry, and how my brother and ser Gilmore were secretly training me until my parents finally gave in. He told me about the time he spent in Denerim with Arl Eamon, before he married Isolde. I told him what I thought of Isolde, which was nothing nice. He told me what he thought of Rendon Howe, which was worse. And we just enjoyed each other’s company.

I had been starved for some companionship, as much as I love Asher and the way he comforts me when he notices my melancholy, our conversations were rather one-sided. Seeing as he lacked the ability to speak back. Alistair spoke back a lot.

Apparently he had a fondness for cheese that bordered on a slight obsession. The same was true for his hair. He had studied history at the Chantry, aside from training to become a Templar. It wasn’t long before I felt like I completely knew him. There was something disarming about him, and I spoke more openly to him than I had to anyone else.

****************************************************************************************

  
“So how is it that you suffered from nightmares as a child?” Alistair asked, “did something happen to you?” I stared down at my hands, I hadn’t spoken about that for years. As I sat fidgeting with a twig I had picked up at some point, Alistair waited patiently.

“That is a story I haven’t shared with many people,” I said hesitantly.  
“It’s ok if you don’t want to talk about it, I imagine it must have been something that made quite an impact,” he said.  
“Yeah, you could say that again,” I mumbled.  
“What?” Alistair asked, catching me off guard  
“What?” I asked back. “Oh sorry, yeah uhm. It had a very large impact.”

I paused for a moment before I started, “I used to love to ride horses when I was a kid. I was at the stables every chance I could get,” I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them before continuing, “there was this stable hand, an odd fellow. Didn’t talk much to anyone, kept to himself as much as possible. Fjodor was his name. No one really knew the guy, we knew his name, we knew his job, he did it well. But that was it,” I stopped talking again for a moment to gather my thoughts. I was still looking at my hands, where I was rolling the twig between my fingers.

“When I was ten years old, my parents got me a horse of my own. I was to take care of it all by myself, they wanted me to learn responsibility. And so I spent even more time at the stables. Fjodor helped me take care of the horse, taught me how to brush her, how to saddle her, keep her hooves in good condition, clean out her stable, you name it. Everything I know about tending horses, I know from him,” I took another pause, my hands were shaking now, and I had stopped playing with the twig, “I trusted Fjodor, he had been a kind of mentor to me. Then one day, I had just returned from riding, he was waiting for me at the stables. He offered to help me tend to the horse,” I balled my hands into fists, snapping the twig in one of them, I was crying again.

“He put a knife to my throat when we were alone in the stables. He told me to be very still or he would cut my throat. He… he tried to rape me.”  
Alistair looked at me in horror, “A trusted friend!?” he whispered sharply, “a trusted friend did that to you?”

He couldn’t believe it, neither could I when it was happening.

“I struggled, I panicked and somehow, I got the knife away from him. But he didn’t stop, he started strangling me. And then I stabbed him in his neck, severed his jugular. Like Fergus and ser Gilmore had taught me.”

My hands stopped shaking as I looked up to Alistair, “I killed the bastard." 

"He was still on top of me while he bled out, I was covered in his blood when another stable hand came to check on all the ruckus. When he saw Fjodor on top of me, dead, with his dick out, he immediately moved to help me. But I was in such a state of terror I wouldn’t let him near me. Eventually another servant came and went to get my parents,” I breathed in deeply, “I have never regretted it, he got what he deserved. But I kept reliving it in my dreams. It was so bad for a time that I needed to be dosed with a tranquilizer before I went to sleep. I had night terrors, where I physically acted out the dream. Fergus finally convinced my parents to let me study martial arts. Apparently the fact that Fergus was the one who taught me to go for the jugular was what made them change their minds. Thanks to Fergus and ser Gilmore I was able to defend myself, thanks to them I managed to stop Fjodor from raping me.

I was only eleven years old by that time, but I had… matured early. The thought of me having a rapist’s baby while I was still a child myself was too much to bear for my parents. I have been training every day ever since. Eventually I got most of my confidence back. But the nightmares kept coming, for months one of my parents or my brother slept in my room with me. To wake me up when the nightmares came. It was a major strain on our family, we tried everything, potions, herbs, magic, nothing ever kept the nightmares away for long. As time went by the night terrors became less frequent, I learned how to manage the nightmares. And I got on with my life. For my eighteenth birthday, I got Asher. The breeder was somewhat of an eccentric. He had trained my pup to recognize the signs of me having a nightmare and wake me up. The man was an absolute genius. Thanks to Asher, my nightmares finally stopped. I’d only started having them again after losing my family.”

  
*************************************************************************************

Alistair stared at me, “to go through all of that with your family, to be loved and supported to such an extent. And then have them taken away by the betrayal of yet another trusted friend,” he whispered.

He voiced my feelings perfectly.

“I am still half convinced it’s slowly killing me,” I said with a defeated smile, “I am no stranger to depression, after what happened with Fjodor, well, I have already danced to that tune more than once. I’ll be ok eventually, it’s just going to take a very long time, and a lot of dead darkspawn,” I smiled at Alistair again, more sincerely this time.

“I happen to be an expert on killing darkspawn, I would be happy to teach you a thing or two,” Alistair said playfully.  
I chuckled, “I’m sure you would. You know your way around a battlefield.”  
“As do you, my Lady.”

“Don’t do that,” I groaned,  
“Don’t do what, my Lady?” Alistair said innocently.  
“That! Calling me ‘my Lady’ I am just Fela now.”  
“As you wish,” he replied.

“Need I remind you I am very skilled in killing people who are bigger and slower than me?”  
“Are you calling me slow!?” Alistair acted offended.  
“Are you done calling me ‘my Lady’?”

We stared at each other for a while, and then burst out quietly giggling. Hoping we wouldn’t wake the others.

“Alright, alright, Fela-” Alistair began, but he had another fit of giggles, “Fela,” he began again, “have I told you that I’m glad that you’re… you… instead of some other Grey Warden?”

I blushed deeply at that, judging from my burning cheeks, I could only hope it wasn’t visible in the dim light of the fire.

“I… thank you, Alistair. I’m… glad that you’re you too. Makers breath, I lost everything just days ago and you already have me laughing again. I actually feel ok right now. If you keep working miracles like that we might even stand a chance at stopping the Blight.”

We continued talking until morning. We never woke Leliana up, neither of us felt like going back to sleep anyway.


	6. Private Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Fela continue to bond. I am not much for the slow burn with 'accidental' cuddling and such. To me, these guys are adults who know what they want. Alistair may be inexperienced, but I like to think that their circumstances make him a little bolder. Flirting suddenly doesn't seem like such a big deal when you expect to die within the year, Blights do that.

When the sun came up, our companions started to rise. Since they were awake now I decided to take a bath in a nearby stream. I came from luxury, I wasn’t used to going without a bath for so long. I felt filthy. The water was freezing cold, another thing I was not used to. But I stripped naked, grit my teeth and dove in anyway, I came up cursing loudly. Maker’s breath it was cold. I quickly started washing myself as best as I could when I heard Alistair calling.

_Shit._

“Fela? Are you ok?”

_shit, shit, shit!_

“I’m fine!” I called back, “just… stay where you are!” I quickly got out of the water and wrapped my towel around myself.

“Are you still there Alistair?” I called.  
“Yes, is something wrong?”  
“No, no everything is fine. It’s just that I am not used to bathing in cold water.”  
“Oh, I’m sorry… I didn’t realize you were, uhm, bathing.”

An awkward silence followed.

“I’ll get dressed ok, I’ll meet you back at camp,” I called, breaking the silence.  
“Yes, great idea. I’ll be right there… at camp… if you need me.”  
“Thanks Alistair.”

_Fantastic, good job at avoiding a huge cliché. Damnit Fela, stop behaving like a damsel in distress! So what if he maybe saw your boobs, they happen to be gorgeous. It’s not like there’s a lot of privacy, shit happens. Maybe next time you walk in on him bathing, what then? Swoon?_

I was still mentally kicking myself when I got back to camp. We shared a quick breakfast before I laid out the map so my companions could see where I was pointing.

“We are here now,” I said pointing at Lothering, “we have treaties for the dwarves,” I pointed to Orzammar on the map, “The Circle of Magi,” I said while moving my finger on the map again, “and the Dalish, who should be somewhere in this area,” I moved my finger around the Brecilian Forest on the map.

“Alistair suggested we also go to Redcliffe, he knows the Arl and is certain he will aid us,” I said, pointing to Redcliffe, “looking at the roads, I suggest we go north to the Circle of Magi first, then travel south again along Lake Calenhad to Redcliffe to resupply. From there we make our way to Orzammar before travelling east to track down the Dalish. I propose we search for them last because they don’t want to be found, which could cause us to spend a lot of time searching for them while we could have been gathering allies that actually stay in one place. We sort of have a time limit here. Any objections?” I looked around to my companions.

“No objections, splendid,” I moved to pick up the map when Sten spoke up.

“How will this traveling end the Blight?” he asked in his low harsh voice.  
I stood up to look at him, “the darkspawn horde is immense, we cannot take them on all by ourselves. And there is also the Archdemon, which happens to be a very big, ugly dragon. You don’t want to face one of those unprepared. These treaties oblige certain parties to come to our aid. We will need their troops. Meanwhile we need to gather as much information we can get, as many allies as we can get. We can only do this if all of Ferelden is with us.”

The large Qunari nodded but didn’t seem satisfied. I shrugged it off, told everyone to pack their things and get ready to go.

* * *

I think Alistair was avoiding me a bit, the guy did grow up in a Chantry after all. I spent a lot of time trying to get to know Leliana, I figured I should bond with all my companions. Leliana seemed like a good place to start, she was easier to talk to than Morrigan and Sten to say the least. She may have been a little loopy when it came to her faith, but I must say she had interesting views. Views that I preferred to those of the Chantry, honestly. I was never a fan. She was also kind, and intelligent. She noted that I was making an effort to get to know my companions. Then she complimented me by saying it was important for a good leader to maintain close relationships with those that followed her.

She winked at me, “so, you and Alistair never woke me up for my watch? Care to share some of the details?” she asked.

I was a little surprised by how forward she was, but I figured she had told me so much about herself that I owed her a bit. Did she do that on purpose? Damnit, she’s good! I decided to tell her anyway.

“Grey Wardens are often plagued by nightmares, especially the ones who join during a Blight. Alistair offered me some support, he knows what it’s like,” I offered, all of it was true.  
But Leliana was not satisfied, “I thought I heard you guys talking last night,” she looked at me expectantly.  
“We talked about a lot of things, you’ll have to be more specific.”

She grinned, I had just confirmed we had spent a very long time talking. But you know what? I felt comfortable telling her. Even if she was, perhaps subconsciously, using some interventions that kept goading me into telling her more without her asking a specific question. Clever girl.

I smiled at her, “what do you want to know?”  
She returned my smile, “so are you guys becoming close?”  
I thought about that for a moment, “I think so, yeah. Please don’t tell anyone,” I could play games too Leliana, “I think he saw me naked this morning when I went to take a bath.”  
She giggled girlishly and gave me a knowing smile.

Now that we shared a little secret, she owed me. It was simple cognitive dissonance, the fact that I had entrusted her with something innocent but personal, would cause her to subconsciously justify honouring my trust. Causing us to quickly grow closer. And she knew it.

“You play the game like you have experience,” she said.  
“Well I did grow up as a Teyrn’s daughter. I spend my fair share of time around high nobility,” I replied. Leliana was not playing me anymore, she was speaking to me as her equal. I rewarded this with more personal information that gave us more common ground.

“Really? And where does a Teyrn’s daughter learn to fight like you do?”  
“In her father’s backyard actually,” I laughed, “my family thought it was important I learned how to defend myself.”  
“A wise choice,” Leliana said, “a deadly combination of beauty, brains, and skill,” she added, making me blush.  
“You flatter me,” I said.  
“Merely stating truths, Alistair sees it too,” she replied.

That made me blush even deeper.

I gave Leliana a shy smile, “am I that obvious?”  
She giggled, but did not deny it.

“What are you two whispering about?” Alistair joined us, not avoiding me anymore I see.  
“Fela was just telling me about a former lover,” Leliana lied, I looked at her in disbelief.

_Leliana, what are you doing?_

“Oh?” Alistair said, looking at me.

I couldn’t meet his eyes, I tried to mumble some half-assed explanation. But I wasn’t fooling anyone. Goddamnit, Leliana was steering the conversation with just one sentence.

“You um, remember I told you about ser Gilmore?” I asked Alistair, “he was my first… lover. When we were teenagers, and he was still a squire.”  
“Really? The guy who helped train you?” Alistair asked.  
“Yeah well, there was a lot of physical contact, and fighting gets your blood pumping, you know?”

By the Maker I hoped that was a sufficient explanation, _please drop it, please drop it, please drop it._

Alistair gave me a hungry look for the briefest of moments. It send a thrill up and down my spine. He grinned boyishly, “so, for how long were you… involved with him?”

_Damnit Alistair, you were supposed to let it drop!_

“Not very long, my mother found out and ordered me to end things. I didn’t see much of him after that, we were forbidden to see each other and he was sent away for a few years. I was afraid I had ruined his life and kept my distance when he returned as a Knight years later. That’s the life of a young highborn Lady, we aren’t supposed to dally around. We are supposed to find a husband and bear children. You will have a hard time doing that if you mess around with squires,” I had not noticed Leliana slip away, Alistair and I were alone now.

 _Leliana you are perfectly devious._ I didn’t mind, in the slightest.

“Soooo…” I began, trying desperately to think of something to steer the conversation away from myself, “Your turn,” I said.  
“What do you mean, my turn?” Alistair asked.  
I tried to look innocent, “if you grew up in a Chantry… have you ever…” I gave him a meaningful look.

 _That’s right, your turn to spill the beans about your love-life_.

He didn’t bite, “have I ever what? ”  
“Had sex?”  
He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, “wow, uhm, I’ve certainly never had a woman just come up and ask me that.” It was his turn to blush now.  
“So have you?”

I wasn’t going to let him off that easy.

“I have never had the pleasure, no, the Chantry isn’t the place for young, rambunctious boys.”  
“So you’ve never had the opportunity then.”  
“Well there was this one time in Denerim… when this girl… anyway, I wasn’t raised to take that sort of thing lightly. A gentleman must show self-restraint. Nothing wrong with that right?”  
“Nope. Self-restraint is a virtue after all,” I winked at him and excused myself.

Let Alistair stew in that for a while.

* * *

When evening came we stopped to make camp. So far we hadn’t encountered any darkspawn, I took it as a good sign. I set up my tent and went to start dinner preparations. Morrigan already had a fire burning, another perk of traveling with a mage.

“Have you come to help me prepare dinner?” Morrigan asked surprised.  
“Why not,” I said, “I figured you could use an extra pair of hands.”

She didn’t protest, I put a pot with clean water close to the fire and started to chop an onion. We worked in silence, I think she appreciated that.

Eventually Morrigan broke the silence, “we covered a lot of ground today, we will be at the tower of Magi sooner than expected at this rate.”  
I smiled at her attempt at small talk, “indeed, I had expected some bandits at least,” I said.  
That earned me a grin, “to quench your insatiable bloodlust?”

_Was that a joke? From Morrigan?_

I smiled back at her, “I’m not complaining, I just expected more… obstructions.”  
“As did I,” she said. For Morrigan’s standards, this was a very pleasant conversation. This was progress.

“Morrigan?”  
“Yes?”  
“I do trust you, you know that right? But I am no fool, I know you have an ulterior motive. But whatever that might be, you are there when we need you and that’s what matters.”

She nodded, and I decided to leave it at that. She needed to be given the space to come to me, much like a wild animal, I needed to _earn_ her trust. I wasn’t getting it for free. But maybe, if she felt comfortable enough around me, she might confide in me. All I could do was wait and remain available.

I decided not to bug Sten tonight and go to sleep early, I was not going to get much of it. But I had to try at least. We had divided the watch after our meal and I went straight to my tent. Asher followed me and laid down next to me. I snuggled up to the large dog and scratched him behind his ear. I fell asleep within minutes.

* * *

Asher woke me once by licking my hand. My dreams had been getting unsettling, Asher just prevented me from having a nightmare again. I went back to sleep, coddling my dog.

When I awoke the second time, Asher wasn’t next to me. He must have gone off doing whatever Mabari do in the middle of the night.

It was fine, I mean if the dog needed to pee he wasn’t going to do it in my tent. I didn’t raise him that way. I shuddered when I woke up, I had been dreaming about the Archdemon again. I could still feel a faint buzzing in the back of my mind, making it impossible to go back to sleep.

I decided to sit by the fire. And sure enough, Alistair was there too.

“You really don’t sleep much do you,” I whispered as I sat down next to him.  
“Well, we don’t all have a trusty Mabari to watch over us.” He was petting Asher who was curled up next to him.

 _So that’s where he went_.

“Are you alright?” I asked.  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, he didn’t convince me.  
“I dreamed about the Archdemon again…” I told him in a whisper.

That creature struck some primal nerve deep within me, and it screamed and wailed at me that I was going to die.

“Me too,” Alistair whispered.

We huddled together under a blanket, it was a cold night. Asher gave a quiet whine, letting us know he sensed our distress. “Good boy,” Alistair whispered and stroked Asher’s head. We quietly stared into the fire for a while. We didn’t need words to know each other’s thoughts.

Alistair eventually broke the silence of course, “the Archdemon, it… talks… to the horde. Some of the older Wardens said they could understand it a bit, but I sure don’t. We are connected to it through the Taint, but having a connection to it certainly doesn't make it any clearer to me...”

I slowly nodded, “I see what you mean… I don’t understand it either. All I can get from it is a sense of pure hatred and ferocious bloodlust. It terrifies me to think about having to face a creature that is just aching to tear me apart. To obliterate me, and everything else. The drive for destruction is so strong… I’m certain nothing else exists inside that creatures mind anymore, if anything else ever did. It’s not so much an individual as it is a natural force.”  
Alistair nodded in return, “an apt description.”

We fell silent again.

“You are very observant, do you know that?” Alistair said without taking his eyes off the flames.  
“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment,” I responded.  
“Good, it was meant as such,” he replied.

We fell quiet once again. Something was bugging him, other than the Archdemon.

I turned my head so I could look at him, the expression on his face was worried. But that was to be expected. I looked for something more, some hint of what was bothering him. I got nothing. “Is something else bothering you?” I asked shyly.

I didn’t want to manipulate Alistair, I would have to be honest and speak plainly. He wasn’t like Leliana, or Morrigan, least of all Sten. Save for their aptitude for violence.

Alistair didn’t reply right away, my guess was that he was considering telling me something. But I sensed none of the sexual tension that was between us earlier today. I only sensed dread and worry, this was about something else. He shook his head without saying a word.

 _Very much unlike him_ , I noted.

“I can tell there is more on your mind than just that Archdemon,” I spoke softly, “you were there for me last night, when I poured out my heart and soul and told you of my darkest thoughts. I can be there for you too, if you’ll let me.”

He finally turned to look back at me, I felt a stab of fear and melancholy when I met his eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was his or mine.

I tended to absorb other people’s emotions, sometimes it was hard to distinguish which belonged to me and which belonged to someone else. It was one hell of an advantage most of the time, I had developed a very accurate bullshit-detection skill. But right now, it wasn’t helping.

“You’re right,” Alistair began, “no sense in denying it. Least of all to you.” I remained quiet and waited for him to continue. He seemed to be considering his next words very carefully, “can we just ignore it for now? Please?”

Not what I expected but I nodded.

“Alright, you’re the boss,” I said respectfully as I pulled the blanket closer around myself. Patience is a virtue after all. I was fairly certain he did _want_ to tell me, but he simply wasn’t ready. All in due time.

After another heavy silence Alistair decided to switch topics, “so tell me more about this ser Gilmore.”

_Oh crap._

He grinned when he noticed my blush. Damnit I was so hoping it wouldn’t be visible in the dark.

“I do so enjoy making you uncomfortable,” he said with a wicked smile.  
“You’re not going to let this one go, huh?” I asked hopefully.  
“Nope.”

I let out a defeated sigh, “alright, I guess we are doing this. What do you want to know?”  
Alistair thought about it for a moment, “so how long had you known him? Before there was a lot of physical contact and fighting got your blood pumping?”

That wicked grin of his, I couldn’t help it, it was doing things to me.

“He had been around for as long as I can remember, his father was captain of our guard. I had known him since we were just little kids. Fergus and him had always been close, they were the same age. I was a few years younger. And I adored my big brother, so naturally I bonded with ser Gilmore too.”

“So when did they start teaching you how to fight?”  
“Roughly about the same time they started training. I hated that I was not allowed to join them, and Fergus decided to teach me what he learned. Ser Gilmore helped. I was seven I think. Fergus felt that, as a girl, it was all the more important that I learned how to defend myself, he wasn’t going to let his little sister be an easy target, he said.” 

I smiled at the memory of a ten year old Fergus, he was always so protective of me. And his logic was flawless if you asked me, big brother couldn’t be around _all_ the time, so I needed to learn how to defend myself, even if my parents strongly disagreed at the time, they felt I was too young and wanted me to stick to archery. By the Maker I missed him and the rest of our family. A tear rolled down my cheek at the memory, I had always felt loved by my big brother, and he never faltered in his role. But he was lost to me now.

Alistair reached up to wipe the tear away. His hands were rough and calloused but his touch was surprisingly gentle and soft. After confiding in Alistair last night, he understood just how important my brother was to me. If it hadn’t been for Fergus, my life would have taken a very different course. Possibly as the teenage mother of a bastard child conceived through rape. I owed Fergus my life and my freedom. He was my hero.

“I wish I had a brother like yours,” Alistair whispered softly.  
“You would have liked him,” I said, “you are very much alike. Although I suspect he would have kicked your ass if he found out you were prying into my love life. I thought you were raised as a gentleman?” I teased.  
“Hah!” Alistair puffed up his chest, “he would be welcome to try.”  
“Hmm, maybe I should do it myself, considering his absence. He taught me well you know.”  
“Is that a challenge?” he asked me playfully.  
“Is it?” I countered.

Another staring contest, and another fit of giggles.

“Hmm, I think I would enjoy sparring with you. You’re something else entirely, nothing like the big burly men I am used to sparring with,” Alistair said quietly.  
“In more ways than one I suspect,” I replied suggestively.

I was flirting with him, the realisation causing a hurricane of mixed emotions, grief, guilt, excitement, fear, lust, I could go on endlessly. It made my head spin. But caution and etiquette had flown right out the window when I lost everything dear to me.

_So screw it._

I was no noble Lady anymore, my name meant nothing, Howe took care of that. My parent’s words echoed in my mind, telling me to go, to live, and to thrive.

“Well then, I challenge you to a duel, Lady Cousland.”  
I glared at Alistair, “I told you to stop calling me ‘Lady’.”  
“Make me,” he replied flippantly, “do you accept my challenge?”

Oh, he was so going to swallow those words, along with a mouthful of dirt.

“I accept, we shall face each other at dawn.” Alistair grinned, I couldn’t help but feel that this was exactly what he wanted.   
I was also totally fine with that.


	7. Flirtations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela and Alistair head out for their sparring session in the morning. Which leads to some light fluff. Zevran joins the group, and Alistair sets some boundaries.

I shared more stories about Fergus and ser Gilmore. Alistair was the perfect audience, laughing and gasping at just the right moments. It wasn’t long before the horizon showed the first signs of dawn. We decided to wake up Leliana for her watch this time. She smiled knowingly when we went off to find a more secluded place for our duel. I didn’t feel like having them watch and judge. Eventually we reached a clearing near a stream. Perfect.

“So we’re going to have to set some rules,” I said while tying my hair back, “hand-to-hand combat, no armor, no weapons. No sense in taking any unnecessary risks.”

Alistair agreed, albeit a little smugly. He was convinced his size and strength would give him a major advantage over me, he was wrong.

“First one to yield, or pass out, loses,” I said, as I planted my feet firmly on the ground and got ready for the duel.   
Alistair chuckled “we’ll see about that. Ready?”   
“Ready.”

We circled around each other, testing and probing, to get a feel for each other. Finally Alistair lunged and tried to grab me, I gracefully evaded and landed a blow to the side of his head. Not a particularly hard blow, I was purposely letting him underestimate me, victory would only be sweeter.

Alistair was unphased by my punch, makes sense that he could take a few. He came for me again, I neatly stepped out of the way and delivered a blow to the back of his knee. He went down on one of them but quickly jumped up and out of the way as I spun back around to kick him in the chest. I missed.

“Taking the same approach as with the ogre I see,” Alistair taunted me as we circled each other again.   
“Your words not mine,” I said, “but I don’t remember cuffing an ogre on his ears like a child.”   
“What-” Alistair began as I cuffed him on the side of his head again.

He grabbed my arm this time, I broke free easily by stepping forward and ducking under his arm, forcing it in an unnatural position and allowing me to free myself. I elbowed him in his side and spun to deliver a low kick to his legs. He jumped out of the way just in time.

“Sneaky,” Alistair said, circling me again, “you fight dirty.”   
“All men call it dirty fighting when you don’t rely on brute strength alone,” I countered, “it’s just your manly pride talking.”

I gave him a wink and brushed my hair back, taking care to make the motion distinctly feminine. That gave Alistair an idea apparently, he came at me with a flurry of blows, forcing me to evade until he saw his chance and grabbed my hair.

“How is that for dirty fighting?” he asked as he pulled me towards him.

I punched the back of his arm just above the elbow as hard as I could, causing his hand to go numb and allowing me to free myself once again. I had momentum now and his right hand was useless, I knocked his other fist aside and hit him just below his ribs. He gasped and bent over as I brought up my knee to his chin, the blow disorientated him. He staggered backwards as I advanced, he managed to hold me off reasonably well. But he took a lot of hits from me, I was much quicker than him and I knew exactly where to strike.

Suddenly he dodged one of my kicks and used the moment to punch me square in the jaw. It knocked me back but I didn’t fall.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry! I got carried away,” Alistair began, obviously shocked by his own actions.   
I spat a bit of blood, “never apologize for landing a blow that you earned,” I wiped my mouth, “and don’t forget, it was you who challenged me. You don’t get to back out now.”

We were circling each other again, “have you ever even hit a girl before?” I was taunting him, I already knew the answer, such a gentleman.

“There is a first time for everything,” he countered and struck again.

This time I saw the blow coming, using his own momentum, I jerked his arm forward as I stepped aside, causing him to stumble. I tackled him to the ground, taking him into a headlock, “do you yield?” I asked. Alistair responded by struggling against my hold, “no?” I asked teasingly, “I could choke you until you pass out too.”

He managed to reach my belt, grabbed it, and pulled hard. It forced me to let go as he dragged me down over the ground. Suddenly he was on top of me, pinning my wrists to the ground. Pity for him I was very nimble. Instead of struggling against his weight with my arms, I used it to anchor myself, and pull my legs up and under his arms so I could put my knees against his chest and push him backwards.

He let go of my wrists as I pushed him back. Then grabbed my legs and positioned himself on top of me again, this time pinning my legs under him firmly. I reached up to throw another punch at him, which he knocked aside and he pinned my wrists to the ground again.

_Not the first time someone tried that, Alistair._

With one leg stretched out and one leg pulled up I bucked my hips and managed to throw him off me, partially. He didn’t let go of my wrists and ended up pulling me with him. I was on top of him now, pulled myself free, rolled backwards and back onto my feet. Alistair got up too.

“I am really enjoying this,” I told him and bit my lip. We were circling one another again.

“The part where you get to punch me or the part where this gets your blood pumping?” Alistair sneered with an innocent smile.

That’s it, he is going down, now. I charged him, unleashing a series of kicks and punches. Finally I gave him an uppercut that had all of my strength behind it. And he went down.

I stood over him, ready to counter any tricks “do you yield now?”   
“Alright, alright, you win, I yield,” he groaned.

I smiled and reached down to help him up. Of course, Alistair _did_ have more tricks. He tried to grab hold of my wrist and pull me down, I twisted away my arm just in time.

“Now _that_ , counts as dirty fighting,” I said teasingly, “try harder to surprise me next time.”   
Alistair sat up chuckling and gave me an impish grin, “ok, my ass has been properly kicked.”   
I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms in front of my chest, “is it though? I think you have a few more rounds in you.”   
“Nope, I gracefully accept my defeat,” he replied.

I chuckled, “I am giving you another chance at pinning me to the ground, that was your plan, wasn’t it?” I said with a knowing smile.   
“I wouldn’t dream of putting your Ladyship in such a position,” Alistair said innocently.   
I cocked my head, “you don’t? Ser, I have half a mind to lecture you about the birds and the bees.”   
Alistair burst out laughing and blushed, “I have half a mind to let you,” he said with a grin and let me pull him up, no tricks this time.

We stood bare inches apart, still breathing fast, my hand in his between us. With his other hand, he gently took my chin to inspect my jaw where he’d hit me. He smelled of grass, clean sweat, and smoke.

“Sorry about that,” he said as he ran his thumb over my jawline.   
I giggled, “sorry about that,” I pointed at his chin, “and that,” his eye, “and that,” I proceeded to point out all the places where I’d hit him.   
“You should be,” he said playfully, “I bruise easily you know.”   
I smiled, “it adds to your ruggedly handsome looks.”   
“Handsome, you say?” Alistair replied with a playful smile, “is this where I get to tell you the same?”

Then he frowned at himself, “that sounded a lot better in my head.”   
I chuckled warmly, “it’s certainly original, I’ve never been called ruggedly handsome before,” I stepped just a little closer, putting a hand on his chest and looking up at him.

Alistair looked back at me, and hesitantly put an arm around my waist, pulling my body ever closer to his. He put his other hand on my cheek. I felt his heart race under my palm where I touched his chest as he leaned in for a shy kiss.

His lips touched mine, light as a feather at first. Then more confidently as I kissed him back and put my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his. The kiss slowly grew more passionate as we melted into each other. I wanted him, so badly that I ached for more. I forgot everything else in that moment, there was only Alistair and our kiss.

“I yield,” I whispered against his lips as the kiss broke.   
“That wasn’t too soon, was it?” Alistair asked with a dreamy smile.   
I gave him a sly grin, “I don’t know, we should do it some more so I can be sure,” I replied and put a hand behind his head to pull him in for another kiss.

Then I heard Leliana calling for us, shit.

_Damnit Leliana, if you are going to coerce two people into, well,_ this _, at least give us some privacy._

We stepped apart instinctively.

“Breakfast is ready,” Leliana said as she emerged from the surrounding shrubbery. “Are you two done sparring?” she asked innocently. “Yep, I won.” Alistair declared smugly.

_Liar_.

“Hmm, judging from that magnificent black eye I would think differently.” Leliana pointed out.

I snickered. _Busted, Alistair_.

“You only won the _second_ round, Alistair,” I said, giving him a wicked smile and watching him blush deeply.

The three of us walked back to camp, Leliana refrained from playing games. Alistair and I pretended to give each other tips about our combat styles. When we reached camp, Morrigan immediately started laughing at our dishevelled states and congratulated me on giving Alistair a black eye. Sten remained quiet. I only hoped that they believed that we were just sparring. Which was kind of true.

After breakfast I went back to the stream to clean myself up, I announced it this time. Alistair joined me, it only made sense that we would freshen up. We were covered in dirt and leaves, and even a little blood, after all.

I took off my boots, and waded into the stream to wash my face. Alistair did the same, but he also proceeded to take off his shirt so he could wash the sweat off his torso. His beautiful, muscular torso.

_Behave, Fela, control yourself!_

I would have done the same, but taking my shirt off in front of him seemed a little weird, we had only kissed once, not one hour ago. It didn’t stop me from stealing glances though. I was pleased that our kiss hadn’t made things awkward, he was still chatting away like he always did and even playfully splashed me a couple of times. I decided not to ruin it by steering the conversation back to where we were headed before Leliana showed up. I was expecting a night time chat by the fire, we could talk then. Or not, who knows what might happen.

When we came back to camp, we got ready to leave. It wasn’t long before we were on the road again. I noticed that Morrigan and Sten were contently quiet while walking next to each other. Good, it was a nice change from the constant bickering between Alistair and Morrigan. Leliana, Alistair, Asher, and I walked up front. Idly chatting away. Today’s journey was promising to be blissfully uneventful. But of course, it wasn’t.

It was around midday that we were approached by a young woman, she was frantically screaming about being attacked and wanted us to come and help. I immediately smelled bullshit, but Alistair wouldn’t be Alistair if he didn’t immediately run off to help the girl. I gave my other companions a look of caution and nodded for them to follow.

Long story short, it was an ambush. We were surrounded immediately and had no choice but to fight our way out. Thank the Maker we got the extra muscle with Sten and Leliana. We cut them down effectively, none survived. Or so I thought. Turns out one of them was still alive.

* * *

“Oooh… I was expecting to wake up dead, or not wake up at all. As the case may be.” I turned to see where the voice was coming from, it was a fair-haired elf, still lying on the ground and rubbing his head.

“Tell me, what do you intent to do with me?” he asked when he met my eyes.   
“You are going to answer a few questions for me,” I said coldly as I squatted in front of him and put the tip of one of my blades under his chin.   
“Ah, so this is to be an interrogation then, allow me to save you some time,” the elf spoke in a thick Antivan accent, “my name is Zevran, Zev to my friends, I was send by the Crows. Courtesy of a… Loghain I think, yes Loghain.”

_Of course_.

“You are an assassin then, great. Are there any more of you coming?” I made no attempt to hide my impatience and pushed my blade a little firmer against his neck.   
“There is no easy answer to that question,” Zevran began.   
“Try me.” I interrupted.   
“Very well. I take it you have not heard of the Antivan Crows, we are an assassins guild. When a person wants another person dead, they approach one of our representatives. The contract is then put up for auction, so to speak. Any crow can make a bid, the contract is then assigned to the crow who made the best bid.”   
I groaned, “so now that you have failed, another can pick up where you left off. Correct?”   
“Technically yes, I have no control over who, if anyone, accepts the contract.”

Great, just _great_! And I thought the bounty on our heads was going to be a problem, now we had an assassins guild after us too.

“If I may, I have a proposal,” Zevran spoke up again. I sighed and studied the elf, what the hell, might as well hear him out.

“Speak then,” I ordered, keeping my blade firmly in place against his throat. “Seeing as I failed to honour the contract, my life is forfeit. This is how it works. Either you kill me, or the Crows will. As it happens I like living. Spare me, and you will have my loyalty, my Ferelden rose. I know how to defend myself from the Crows, you could benefit from that.” “You must think I am very stupid. Would you provide me with the same loyalty you provided for Loghain? What’s to stop you from finishing the job?” I snapped at him. “I happen to be a very loyal person, up until the point that someone expects me to die for failing. Look, even if I did ‘finish the job’ the Crows would kill me for failing in the first place. Pledging my loyalty to a beautiful Grey Warden, is not so bad no? You live, I live, we join forces, all is good in life.”

I hated to admit that what he said made sense. Besides, his knowledge of the crows might prove invaluable if there were more of them coming. Plus, he was skilled. If I accepted Sten after what he did, why not Zevran? I lowered my blade and sighed.

“Wait, you’re not actually considering this offer are you?” Morrigan began.   
“Do you see any fault in his logic?” That gave her pause.   
“Fela, think about this, he tried to kill you,” Alistair joined in.

Look at that, Morrigan and Alistair agreeing on something.

“As much as I love the fact that you two are agreeing for once, given our own backgrounds, I don’t see why we shouldn’t accept Zevran into our little band of misfits on a mission to stop a Blight. And I am not about to refuse any offered help.” Their faces soured.   
“None of us have tried to murder you though,” Alistair groused.   
“Zevran isn’t the first and will certainly not be the last. If he betrays us, we will deal with it.”

And with that I pulled Zevran to his feet. “Thank you, I pledge my loyalty to you, from this day forward until such time you see it fit to release me. Until then, I am your man, without reservation.”   
“Very well, but I would check my food and drink more carefully from now on,” Morrigan said and she walked back to Sten.

Ah Sten, ever the stoic. He just stood there looking angry and intimidating as always. I was glad he kept out of this, arguing with Sten was impossible. The giant refused to see any other perspective than his own and barely ever spoke more than three words. The pot would reach a boiling point eventually but I was fine with letting it stew for a bit longer.

We continued our travels without further incident and set up camp for the night. We went on about our business as we had the nights before. Then the strangest thing happened.

I was just finishing setting up my tent when I heard growling. I turned around to see Asher and Sten growling and snarling at one another. I shared a look with Morrigan who just shrugged. I was just deciding if I should step in or back away slowly when I heard Sten speak.

“You are a true warrior among your kind. You have my respect.”

He was definitely addressing Asher, who replied with a happy bark. Then they went on to play fetch.

_What. The. Shit._

I burst out laughing and went back to finishing my tent. Good to see Sten was making friends. When I was done I approached Morrigan.

“You and Sten seem to be getting along,” I said. Morrigan just rolled her eyes at me, but I did see a slight smile play around her lips.   
“I figured you for the strong and silent type,” I said grinning. That got me a scowl, and a chuckle.

“What can I say, I grew up in a forest, he reminds me of the trees I spoke to as a child.”

Wow, that was a lot of personal information she just gave for free.

“What was it like?” I inquired.   
“Speaking to trees? Rather one-sided. But beggars can’t be choosers.”   
“True, but seriously, weren’t you lonely?”   
“I… am not sure what I would compare it to. Whenever I craved companionship I ran with the wolves, or flew with the birds. When I spoke ‘twas to the trees.”   
“You never longed for human companionship?” Morrigan shrugged.

And apparently that was all she had to say on the matter.

I decided to respect this boundary and not pry any further. Chances were, living with Flemeth, she came to dislike and distrust all people. And from what I had seen, Flemeth seemed to have the maternal instincts of a snake. No wonder she was slow to open up.

I had been busy socializing with my companions all day, only Zevran remained. He gave me a flirtatious smile when I approached.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of basking in your beauty?” he asked.

I was unphased. Try being a Teyrn’s daughter, I was no stranger to flattery. I got paraded around a lot during my mother’s unrelenting attempts at finding me a future husband. I was used to being objectified, after all, to many of my suitors I was a materialistic interest first, a brood mare second, and a person last.

“Care to answer some questions?” I asked as I sat down, ignoring his flattery.   
“Oh? This should be interesting, ask away.”   
“How did you become a Crow?” I inquired.

He proceeded to tell me how he spend his early childhood at a brothel. His mother had died during childbirth, and when he was old enough he was sold to the Crows on a slave market for fifteen sovereigns. Which was apparently a good price. He went through training, and survived, the very definition of being successful. All things considered, he felt he was lucky to have lived his life the way he did. When I expressed my disbelief, he told me what happened to boys who did not fetch a good price on the slave market. I suppose he had a healthy way of looking at it. He was dealt a seriously shitty hand of cards in life and he made the best of it. I did admire that, but I did not tell him. His flirting was getting on my nerves, I told him to stop of course. He refused.

“You know if you keep trying to flirt with me, I am going to have to keep shooting you down. Which is exhausting for both of us, so please stop it,” I told him, to which he replied; “Or, you just stop shooting me down and I show you what I have to offer. Surrender yourself to whatever happens, hmm?” he raised an eyebrow at me.   
“Ok, we’re done. Goodnight Zevran.”   
“Sweet dreams my Ferelden rose, I will meet you there,” he answered.

I was going to have to kick his ass some time.

Speaking of ass kicking, I should go find Alistair. I vowed to myself I would behave. The image of him naked from the waist up was still fresh in my mind. I had to focus to stop myself from biting my lip again. I found him sitting by a nearby pond, his eyes were distant, like he was in deep thought. He gazed out over the water. When he noticed me looking at him, he lit up.

“Back for round three?” he asked. That made me grin so wide it made me feel like a moron.   
“Hmm, how forward of you,” I sat down next to him but made no attempt to… ‘engage him romantically’.   
He chuckled, “any more advice on where to hit opponents where it hurts most?” he asked innocently.   
“Nah, I think you should learn that from experience.” I said, he chuckled again.   
“Did you want to go another round before dinner?” he asked innocently.   
“Hmm, tempting, I do so enjoy exercise.”

_Damnit, Fela! Stop with the sexual innuendo!_

Alistair didn’t seem to mind my flirtations one bit, though.

“What were you thinking about?” I asked him in an attempt to change the subject.   
“What do you mean?”   
“You looked like you were thinking rather deeply about something when I came over,” I explained.   
“Ah yes, well… beauty always comes with dark thoughts, as they say.” Deflecting questions with humour again, I just smiled at him.   
“So, are you ok?”   
“Never better,” he said as he put an arm around me and pull me in for a kiss.

So now we’re deflecting questions with kisses, not bad Alistair. I leaned into him to savour the kiss. Gently brushing his lips with mine. “Hmm, ok, you shut me up effectively.” I whispered against his lips. I let him kiss me again, it was deeper this time, more heated.

Then he stopped, and brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ears as he looked deep into my eyes. “Maker’s breath, but you are beautiful.” I blushed a deep red at the compliment.

He smiled, “you’re gorgeous and you know it, don’t tell me this is the first time you hear it.”   
That only made me blush more, “it’s… different, coming from you,” I whispered. “Different, is it? Tell me, different how?”

“You’re cruel, Alistair,” I gently bit his lower lip, “you know you have me right where you want me, must you tease me so?”

He loved the sweettalking, and I was shamelessly taking advantage of it. I moved to kiss his neck. He let out a delicious moan when I nipped at his earlobe. I moved to straddle him and roamed his shoulders and chest with my hands. Alistair cupped my face with his hands to move my kisses back to his mouth. He let go to slide his hands down my sides to rest them on my hips. I ran a hand through the hair on the back of his head and ran my tongue across his bottom lip. He tentatively opened his mouth, meeting my tongue with his. I could feel him shiver as he moaned quietly.

Then I felt his hands slowly moving up my thighs, tentatively testing how far he could go. I didn’t stop him, I didn’t want to. I moved to kiss his neck again and let my hands wander to the hem of his shirt, close to where I felt his erection press against my thigh, and slipped my hands under his shirt to tease his stomach with my fingers.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this, Fela,” Alistair said in a pained voice.   
I stopped and sat up to look at him, “says who?” I asked.   
“Says I,” he said softly, “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I have come to… care for you, dearly. I don’t want to ruin this, I don’t want you to think this doesn’t mean anything. But over these last few days… I don’t know, maybe I am fooling myself… am I? Fooling myself? Or is there a chance that one day, you might feel the same way about me?”

He looked so vulnerable, staring at me with those warm hazel eyes.

“I think I already do,” I whispered, “and if I remember correctly, _you_ kissed _me_ on two occasions now,” I kissed him again, teasing his bottom lip my tongue, “you’ve made your bed, now you have to lie in it.” I felt him shiver under my kiss.

He put his hands on my arms to stop me, “look, I know that most guys would leap at a chance to be with you. And Maker knows that I _want_ to. But I want to take time to do this right. I’m sorry if that… puts you off…” I gave him another kiss, more innocently this time.   
“Very well Alistair, you are in control,” I whispered in his ear.

He let out a laugh, “wow, ok. Great talk, I’m gonna go… take a cold bath or something, lest I forget why we are here.” He gave me another kiss before he got up and wandered off. I took my time to bask in the afterglow of the moment. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered so violently it almost hurt. Breathing in deeply, I could still taste him on my lips. It was like nothing I ever felt before.


	8. The Journey to Kinloch Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela and Alistair's relationship continues to grow and the group makes it to Kinloch Hold. Morrigan starts opening up to Fela, and the group is taken across lake Calenhad to the Tower of Magi.

I eventually wandered back to camp, stopped for a moment to tease Sten about playing with Asher, and went to sleep. Like clockwork, Asher woke me up from a nightmare, and I found Alistair by the fire.

“I was hoping I would find you here, yet again,” I whispered.   
He held out his arm inviting me to share his blanket, “promise you’ll behave?” Alistair asked playfully.   
“I promise, you’re the boss.”   
“hmm, I could get used to that.”

I snuggled up to Alistair and he pulled the blanket around me. A comfortable silence enveloped us as we stared into the flames. I could feel Alistair’s heartbeat, it was racing.

“I meant it you know,” I whispered, “I care about you too, a lot. More than I know how to tell you… And by the Maker do you drive me crazy, but… You were right, let’s take our time.”

He put his hand on my cheek and kissed me deeply. I knew I was saying exactly what he wanted to hear, but it also happened to be true. I don’t think two people can go through what we went through, come to trust one another as we did, and not form a deep connection. Hell, the Taint probably connected us.

I’d hate to compare it to the connection we have to darkspawn, but it made sense that we would be connected to each other too. Maybe that’s why I was having trouble separating Alistair’s emotions from my own. It would explain how he knew _exactly_ how to be there for me, how he knew just what to say. There was a rational voice in the back of my mind, warning me to be realistic, that the odds were against us, that one of us was likely to die, given our bat-shit-crazy quest.

I decided that was precisely the reason why I should treasure this. It was Alistair who breathed life back into me when we met, the one thing I could cling onto after losing everything else, he was the reason I was still here, the only reason I still gave a damn. I poured all of it into our kiss, desperate to show him how I felt. Holding on to him like my life depended on it. Our lips parted again eventually, his breath hot against my skin.

“I am a lucky man,” Alistair whispered.

“Tell me about your childhood again, before Isolde came into the picture,” I asked as I put my head on his chest, I needed to diffuse the tension before I got carried away, again. I did promise I would behave after all.

Alistair chatted away in that lovely soft timbre of his, I drowned my senses in him, his smell, his voice, the feel of his skin, his taste on my lips. It allowed me to forget my sorrow for a while, I felt like I had been holding my breath. Breathing in Alistair now… It made me shiver. He put his arms closer around me when he noticed.

“Are you cold?” he asked me.   
“No, just… really, _really,_ content,” I whispered back to him.   
Alistair smiled and kissed me again, “good.”

The rest of the night continued as the nights before had, with additional kissing and cuddling of course. I was on my best behaviour, giving Alistair control of how far things went. It wasn’t easy, mind you. I wanted him, and he knew it. He wouldn’t be Alistair if he didn’t tease me just a bit. We decided we would fight it out in the morning. Agreeing that it was important to keep up the sparring. Mistakes were bound to be made in battle, better to make them in a controlled environment. You know, where a mistake isn’t lethal. Sten was supposed to relieve us from our watch, that meant that one of us was going to have to wake him up. Neither of us felt particularly inclined to wake up the big intimidating Qunari.

“Ok, how about we flip a coin. Heads you wake him, tails I wake him,” I offered Alistair.   
He thought about it for a moment, and agreed.   
“Alright, but if I end up having to wake him and he tears my head off, I’m holding you responsible,” he said playfully.   
“So long as you don’t poke him with a stick, you should be ok,” I grinned, going through my pockets to find a coin.

When I found one I let Alistair do the honours and flip it. “Tails,” he said smugly.   
“Damnit! Fine, I’ll go wake him up.”

I was just about to get up when I heard Sten’s voice behind us.

“No need, you can keep your heads,” he said in his harsh monotone voice. It made both of us jump. I think I saw something of a smile play around the big Qunari’s mouth.

“Ah, sorry Sten, we didn’t mean to offend,” I offered.   
The big man just shook it off, “there is nothing offensive about truth,” he said.

That did not make either of us feel better but we sure as hell weren’t going to complain. We shared a look. Was he serious or was he making a joke? It was hard to imagine a guy like Sten to have any sense of humour. But then again, who would have thought he would make friends with my Mabari through a growling contest.

“Go on with your sparring, you’ll need it,” he said as he sat down by the fire and moved to put some more wood on it. Maybe he was starting to warm up to us ‘puny humans’, I wondered.

* * *

We decided on hand-to-hand combat again, like the day before. Alistair was quick to learn from previous mistakes, he made fewer attempts to grab my wrists and went for my upper arms and shoulders instead. Making it harder for me to hit where it counted and break free. In a contest of strength, I didn’t stand a chance against him, I avoided them at all costs. Make no mistake, I am not weak or fragile. But the guy is at least twice my weight, wears heavy armor day in day out and wields heavy weapons like they are sticks. I couldn’t compete with his muscle, and I had no intention of trying. Each time he managed to get a hold on me, I found a weak point, undermining his strength.

I hit him above the elbow a few times to make his hand go numb, like I did the day before when he grabbed my hair. He paused to ask me to show him exactly where to hit and why. I explained that there were certain points in a human body where the nerves lay close to the surface, pointing at several places. Hitting a nerve would effectively undermine control of certain body parts. Even if it was only temporary. Severing them with a blade, much like tendons such as those in the back of an ogre’s knee, rendered them useless. Often permanently.

“You are positively diabolical,” Alistair said, “remind me never to get into a serious fight with you.”   
“That’s solid advice for anyone,” I said with a, slightly puffed up, smile, “it’s all about exploiting an opponent’s weakness. Much like what you do when you use your strength against me, you know I don’t stand a chance in a strength contest so you actively try to get into them. I do the same thing, but I target other weak points.”   
“Like nerves, and tendons, and vital organs,” Alistair added to my sentence.   
“Exactly, you could do that too if you wanted but you don’t have to. For me it’s different, I am never going to grow as much muscle as you, brute strength as an asset is simply not an option. So I take a different approach,” I explained.

Alistair grinned, “clever,” he said, “but let’s not forget ogres and such, they are much bigger and stronger than me too.”   
“Which is exactly why I can teach you a thing or two to give you an edge if you ever get into a scuffle with an ogre without me,” I winked at him.   
“It certainly was some magnificent team work, back at the tower of Ishal,” he replied, as he came for me again.

This time backing me against a tree so I had nowhere to go. Or so he thought.

I jumped, using the tree as an anchor and pushing myself forward. I got one arm around Alistair’s neck before moving my body past him, using my weight and momentum, and pulling him down onto his back. I sat on top of him with a grin. I leaned down to kiss him. But Alistair had other plans. He took hold of my wrists again and pulled them down above his head. Forcing me to lean down on him, my breasts awfully close to his face.

“I thought you promised to behave,” he growled into my neck as I struggled against his grip.   
Finally I leaned down onto my elbows regaining some control of my position. “So teach me a lesson,” I taunted.

I felt his tongue against my neck right before he threw me off of him. I got to my feet to face him again.

“They don’t teach you that at the Chantry,” I said as I ran my fingers down my neck to the tops of my breasts. This time I came at him, thinking he would be too distracted to react quickly enough, he wasn’t. He caught my fist, pulling me past him and hitting my ass with an open palm.

He grinned mischievously, “you are rubbing off on me.”   
“I seem to have a corrupting effect on virtuous men.”   
“Oh, is _that_ what you call it?” he replied playfully.

I smiled my most devious smile before coming at him again, spinning to deliver a kick to his side. He caught my leg, I leaned into the motion and wrapped my leg around him. Allowing him to grab hold of my leg while also putting more of my weight on him than he was expecting. It caused him to stumble and release me. He rolled out of the way when I attempted to deliver a punch. We went back to circling each other.

I came at him hard this time, I used a complicated manoeuvre to spin around Alistair, using momentum to take him down to the ground in a headlock again. I made sure he couldn’t grab onto my belt this time, moving my hips whenever he tried. After some more struggling he tapped my leg, signalling me he was yielding. I released my grip on him. Alistair lay on his back, his head on my leg, panting heavily.

“That right there, what you just did. Spinning around me and taking me down like that…”   
I chuckled, “what about it?” I asked as I sat up to face him.

“How do you even do that? You did it before, you sort of… grab me, around my neck and use your weight to take me down,” he said as he reached up to stroke my leg.   
“In a nutshell, yeah. But I wouldn’t try it on an ogre,” I said with a grin.   
“Who taught you to do things like that?” Alistair asked.   
“When my parents allowed me to learn how to fight, it occurred to my trainer, the captain of our guard, that I would probably always be up against opponents that were larger and stronger than me. So he focused on technique and precision with me, it’s how I discovered I am ambidextrous-”

Alistair interrupted me, “you’re what?”   
“Ambidextrous means I favour neither my left or my right hand,” I explained.   
“Ah, you discovered a talent for dual wielding,” he replied.

“Amongst other things yes, but the captain also brought in a martial artist, Stella, from the east. My style is very different from that of people who are trained like classic warriors; soldiers, knights, Templars, you name it. Physical strength plays a large roll in those styles. As you know, that is not how most young women develop. I am no exception. I needed a style more suited for my body type and talents and ended up learning both, even if I favoured Stella’s. But knowing how my opponents are likely to fight is a major advantage. Eventually I started to combine Stella’s teachings with what the captain was teaching me. It wasn’t long before I was able to beat down any apprentice, and I moved on to the ‘big boy training’. Where I trained with Fergus, who was a particularly clever and accomplished swordsman, who also happened to be very eager to teach his little sister everything he knew,” I said the last few words with a sad smile, thinking back to training with my big brother.

“Fergus sounds like an amazing brother,” Alistair said, putting his hand on mine.   
“He was, or is, I’m not even sure he is still alive,” I said and Alistair sat up.   
“Why didn’t you tell me!? We could have gone looking for him, we still can!”

I shook my head, “when I arrived at Ostagar, King Cailan informed me that my brother was leading an expedition south. He wouldn’t be able to send scouts until the next day… There is nobody left who knew where he was, or even in which direction he went, or what he was after… All I know is that he was down in the Wilds somewhere when we were in the battle at Ostagar. There is a good chance he isn’t even alive anymore. And after being saved by Flemeth… We have only one priority now, which is doing everything we can to get a fighting chance at stopping this Blight… I can’t put my brother above all of Ferelden…”

I was crying again, it killed me to have to leave my brother behind, abandoning him. Alistair put his arm around me. And of course, right at that moment Leliana came calling that breakfast was ready.

“Are you guys done sparring?” she asked when she emerged from the trees. Then she saw me crying.

“What did you do Alistair!?” She snapped while rushing over to me to give me a hug.   
“Nothing! I-” he began, but I interrupted them.   
“It’s fine Leliana, we were just talking about my family. I miss them, that’s all…”   
“Oh you poor thing,” Leliana said softly, and she started wiping my tears with a handkerchief. “I’m right here if you need to talk,” she said with a warm smile.

I thanked her as she pulled me to my feet. We made our way back to camp, had breakfast, freshened up, and were on our way. Then it started to rain.

* * *

It started as a slight drizzle, but soon it was pouring. Dark clouds lined the sky, as far as we could see. It made for poor visibility and muffled sounds, we had considered taking shelter somewhere. But we decided not to delay and keep going, there was no way of knowing when the rain would stop. Since visibility was poor, and we were unsure of how far inland the darkspawn had gotten, we played it safe. So I walked up front while Alistair took the rear. Which did nothing for my mood, but seeing as we could sense any approaching darkspawn, and the others couldn’t, it made sense to travel this way.

As it would turn out, this did nothing to prevent us from being set upon by wolves.

It was Zevran who heard the first howl, stopping us in our tracks with an urgent, “wait! Did you hear that?” Asher immediately started growling, standing in front of me protectively. They had us surrounded. I cursed at how that seemed to be happening a lot lately. I drew my blades and heard the rest do the same. Morrigan warned us to stay back to back. Then they were upon us.

I swiped at the first that approached me and kicked it hard. The second I stabbed in the side before it could pounce on Zevran, who was expertly slicing away. I saw Asher being attacked by a particularly large wolf and rushed to kick it off of him, meanwhile Morrigan blasted two of them with lightning before they got to me. But she was too late to hit the wolf that was attacking Asher, which tackled me to the ground.

I struggled against the beast in a flurry of fur, teeth, and claws. Desperate to keep him away from my neck and my face. It was Sten who pulled the wolf off of me and stabbed it in the throat, spraying me with blood. The pouring rain mixing with the blood on my face and chest made for a very dramatic effect. It gave Alistair quite the scare. When the last wolf was cut down, I went to check on my companions. None of them was seriously hurt. Some scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious. And we moved on.

When we stopped to make camp, the rain was still coming down hard. It proved impossible to build a fire, unless Morrigan were to magically sustain it all night. We were all cold, and wet, and cranky. When I was done setting up my tent, I immediately crawled in, took off my wet clothes, and huddled in my bedroll to warm up. I had spread out my clothes and armor as best I could, hoping they would dry at least a little bit. Thankfully I found a shirt that hadn’t been completely soaked through my pack. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. And I was happy I was wearing it when I heard Alistair call if he could come in. Naturally, I let him in.

“You look positively miserable, my Lady.” I scowled at him. I was still covered in wolf blood, even if most of it had been washed off by the rain, I felt nasty.   
“Don’t you start,” I said, “or I’ll have to kick your ass again during our next sparring session.”   
He grinned, “I should hope so. Mind if I share your bedroll, I am freezing.”

I giggled when I realized I wasn’t wearing any pants, so I decided to give him a fair warning.

“You are more than welcome to share my bedroll, but I must warn you, my pants are over there,” I said pointing at my wet clothes. “And you’re going to have to take those wet clothes off, I would like to keep my bedroll dry.”

I half expected him to back down, but instead he said; “well, we wouldn’t want to huddle up in a wet bedroll.” He proceeded to take his shirt off, and I politely averted my eyes when he took off his pants. He was ice cold when I felt his skin against mine. It made me gasp involuntarily.

“Maker’s breath, you are cold,” I whispered. Alistair responded by giving me a big freezing hug, I yelped.

“You are an _evil_ man,” I growled at him. But my response just amused him.   
“Thank the Maker you are warm and well-behaved.”   
“I make no promises if you insist on trying to turn me into an ice cube,” I said defiantly. I settled myself against him, my back to his front. Less temptation that way, for me at least. Alistair put one arm around me and held me close.

“You know Leliana has been asking about us,” he said softly.   
“Oh? What did she ask specifically?” I asked.   
“Well, that’s just it. She vaguely insinuates a question without actually asking it,” Alistair said.

Yep, that’s how I knew Leliana.

“Ah, so what did she insinuate?”   
“Well, that’s open for interpretation, isn’t it?” Alistair said, his breath was hot against my ear, I shivered again.   
“How did you interpret it?” He was being intentionally vague, I guessed it must have been quite the personal question.

Poor Alistair.

He nibbled my ear and whispered, “something like this.”

He proceeded to kiss my neck. I closed my eyes and moaned softly when he reached the spot between my shoulder and neck.

“How do you expect me to keep up my good behaviour if you do things like that?” I whispered.   
“You really need to learn some discipline,” he whispered back and slid a hand under my shirt but he kept it on my stomach.

I turned my head back to be able to kiss him as I felt his excitement grow. Alistair’s hand slowly moved up to my ribs, but he made no move to touch my breasts as he kissed me deeply. His kiss becoming increasingly passionate.

_Taking your time indeed, Alistair._

“By the Maker you smell so good,” he whispered against my lips, before finally moving his hand to cup one of my breasts.

I supressed a giggle and the notion that I probably smelled like blood and wet dog right now. It took a lot off will power to keep following his pace instead of setting my own. He continued to explore my body with his hands. I rolled onto my back and pulled him in for another kiss, his hand slid down my leg and gently back up against my thigh, avoiding the more sensitive places.

“Alistair?”   
“Hmm?”   
“It’s getting really hard to keep my hands off you.”   
“So don’t.”   
“Are you sure? Yesterday you said you wanted to take your time.”

He gave me a warm smile, and another kiss, “I’ll tell you where to stop, if I decide to stop you at all.”

I proceeded to slowly caress his shoulders and his arms. Tracing the outlines of his muscles, “has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?” I asked him quietly as I admired his form, the shape of his jaw, the stubble on his chin, his lips.

_Oh god those lips._

I saw the hunger return to his eyes, and he kissed me hard. He devoured my mouth with his, holding me so close I worried he might crush me. I felt his arousal press against my hip, he moved down to kiss my chin, my throat, slowly moving across my collarbone as he pulled the fabric of my shirt aside. He still had one arm around me and used the other to move his hand so he could gently knead the flesh of my breast. I let out a deep moan, and ran my hands through his hair. He stopped to pull off my shirt, exposing me to him.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, making me blush a deep red, “especially when you blush,” he added with a mischievous smile, and leaned down to kiss my breasts.

I gasped, grabbing hold of the bedroll as I felt his breath on my nipple. I just lost it in that moment, I forgot everything but Alistair and myself. His body pressing against mine, his heat. There was nothing else. Until he stopped.

He got up to face me, “did you hear that?”   
“Nope,” I said and moved to kiss him again but he stopped me.   
“Wait.”

I listened closely. Just when I was about to say that I didn’t hear anything, I heard shrieking and felt a familiar buzzing in the back of my skull. _Shit._ Darkspawn were coming. We scrambled to get some clothes on, which was no easy task considering they were still wet, I picked up my blades, noting that Alistair was currently unarmed.

We burst out of the tent, surprising Morrigan and Sten, who had been keeping watch. Asher had been with them, and now started barking at the top of his lungs. Causing Leliana and Zevran to emerge from their tents too. It was still pouring rain, and it was dark now.

“We’re not alone,” Alistair said, we both turned when we heard another shriek, closer now. “We’re _really_ not alone.”

I barely know how to describe the source of the shrieking. Shadows seemed to cling to it, churning and coiling. It was horribly misshapen, grey skin pulled too tightly around it’s deformed skull. It had far too many teeth, and it wasn’t alone. Darkspawn came charging from the trees. I tossed Alistair one of my blades, and attacked. I was down one blade, and not wearing any armor, but I was also seriously pissed. Cutting darkspawn down left and right to make my way over to the shriek. I made a point of stabbing and slicing at its throat, severing it’s vocal chords. I grinned with morbid satisfaction as it fell and I turned back. Only two darkspawn remained by then, Sten and Alistair made short work of them.

“I hadn’t expected them to have made it this far north so soon…” Alistair began, handing me back my blade after wiping it on one of the dead darkspawn. I kicked at the shriek that lay at my feet.   
“This ugly motherfucker is new,” I looked up at Alistair, “have you seen one of these before?”

He nodded, but before he could respond, Morrigan cut in.

“Wonderful, now, we are all wet and cold again and our camp is compromised.” She crossed her arms and scowled at Alistair and me. I noticed she was looking at our dishevelled, armorless states.

“Why were you unarmed?” Sten asked Alistair.   
Before Alistair could come up with a response, Morrigan cut in again, “it doesn’t matter, we need to move.” And she started picking up her things.

I raised my eyebrows, I was certain Morrigan had put two and two together, but she seemed to be purposely ignoring it. Maybe she was warming up to me after all. Either that or she was going to verbally skin us later. Luckily, Sten dropped the question and proceeded to take down his tent.

“I think Morrigan just covered our asses,” I whispered to Alistair.   
He looked at me, then at Morrigan, and back to me again.

“As in she knew what we were up to and cut Sten off on purpose?” he asked, I nodded. “Huh, colour me surprised…” he mumbled.   
“I’ll have a chat with her later, she’s not as cold and uncaring as you think, you know,” I said.   
“Do you trust her? She is just so… mean,” Alistair responded.   
“Yes, the kitty has claws. But she’s still a kitty. And no, I don’t trust her entirely, I am certain she has some ulterior motive. Or at least Flemeth does. I told her as much and she didn’t deny it. But she is there when we need her, and she is powerful. You two may not get along but she is really not so bad as you think, if you know how to poke her the right way.”   
Alistair gave me a quizzical look before responding, “well you do seem to have a talent for poking people the right way,” he gave a boyish grin. I just winked at him and got on with taking down my tent. The rain made everything so much more difficult, I felt my heartbeat rise as my frustration grew.

After a long night of cursing and walking through the rain, we made it to Kinloch Hold in early morning. The rain had receded to a drizzle again, but everyone and everything was just soaked. So I decided we should have a hot breakfast at the inn, rather than eating dried meat and fruit out in the rain. It gave us a chance to dry up a bit before we went to the tower of Magi. Which greatly improved the overall mood. I took this chance to check on Morrigan.

“It occurs to me that there will be a lot of Templars at the tower,” I said as I sat down next to her.   
“Yes, not everyone is as fond of Templars as you are,” she responded coldly, as usual. I rolled my eyes, but didn’t take the bait.   
“You’ve been hunted by them, I need to know what to expect when we get there. Am I going to have to kill Templars to defend my favourite apostate?” I asked bluntly.   
She smiled a wicked smile, “you need not worry, I do not need your protection,” Morrigan answered. But I wasn’t satisfied.

“We’re here to gather allies, I’d rather avoid any witch hunts. I need to know, will they recognize you for who you are and will that be a problem?”   
Morrigan turned to face me, “do you wish me to stay behind?” she was getting angry.   
“No, I want you there with the rest of us. But I am not about to take a boat to a tower full of mages and Templars if it might mean one of my allies is going to be hunted,” I explained.   
“So you think I am a liability?” Morrigan snapped. “No, I think the Templars are a liability. I need you, but I am not about to take any unnecessary risks. You’re not expendable,” I said in a calm business-like voice.

I was intentionally playing on her pride, and on her vulnerabilities. It might seem manipulative but I really did need Morrigan, and I really did prefer to keep her out of Templar sights. When it came to Morrigan, you needed to know two things. One, she was proud and independent as a cat. Second, she was socially awkward and I suspect she had never really had a friend. Something which she craved, even if she didn’t want to admit it. That meant I needed to show I respected her before showing I was worried about her. And it seemed I hit just the right spot, her anger simmered down.

“Very well,” Morrigan began, “so long as I don’t use any magic in front of them, they have no reason to suspect me. I will follow your lead and not make any trouble,” she finally said.   
“Thank you Morrigan, I appreciate it. And should anything happen, know that I have your back. I know you have mine,” I got up to leave but she stopped me.   
“So what of you and that grinning oaf?”

Damnit, I almost got away with it.

I sighed “what about him?” Morrigan grinned, it send shivers down my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This lady was scary sometimes.   
“Oh come now, you came bursting out of the same tent, barely dressed, and Alistair was unarmed,” Morrigan purred.   
“Yeah, I figured you put two and two together. How about this. I tell you of my recent… ventures, with Alistair. And you tell me why you covered for us when Sten started asking questions?” I offered. Morrigan chuckled, sincerely this time.

“An answer for an answer. Very well, I believe you two are consenting adults and you should do whatever you please to one another. Furthermore, my dear Sten has a tendency to…” she paused, so I decided to help her out a bit.   
“You mean he has all the subtlety of a brick wall?” I said.   
Morrigan laughed that enchanting cackling laugh, “yes, let’s call it that. In any case, it’s none of our business and I felt… compelled to help you keep it that way.”

I looked at Morrigan in surprise, this was really big, coming from her.

“Thank you Morrigan, I appreciate that. It’s very thoughtful.” She smiled a shy smile back at me.   
“Yes, well, it’s only logical. Now, an answer for an answer. I do believe I have held up my end of the deal. So, are you fucking him?”

I couldn’t help but burst out giggling, not because she was being forward, but because I really wished I _was_ fucking him.

Morrigan gave me a deadly glare “I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m not laughing at your question, it’s just…. No, I am not fucking him.”   
“But you wish to?” she asked.   
“God, yes! Have you _seen_ him?”

I couldn’t believe it, I was having girl talk. Me. With Morrigan no less. I think she came to the very same realization as me in that moment. She was blushing, I didn’t think it was possible.

“I… I have different… preferences, in men,” she said and crossed her arms.  
“I know you don’t like each other. He is very different from yourself. You just don’t match. It’s alright.”

Morrigan looked at me, for a moment, I saw something very vulnerable in her golden eyes. “I’ve noticed you two are becoming very close, I heard you talking the other night. About your nightmares, and the reason they started.”

I froze, shame crept up on me to take me into a chokehold. Morrigan’s face grew worried when she saw my distress. She moved to put a hand on mine, but stopped halfway through the motion

“I- If there is anything I can do…” Morrigan stammered. I shrugged off the feeling of shame, I wasn’t eleven years old anymore.

“Thank you Morrigan, for your concern and your kindness,” I said and I gave her a reassuring smile. Morrigan sat back with a puzzled look on her face.   
“Kindness…” she mused, “not a term I am usually associated with.”   
“You are now. And by the way, I killed that piece of shit,” I gave her a wry smile.   
“I would expect nothing less from you,” Morrigan said, she gave me a genuine smile in return, and excused herself.

I remained at the table, baffled at what just happened. Morrigan reached out to me on a personal level, she showed concern for me. I hoped I had responded the right way, it’s hard to know with Morrigan. I didn’t want her to think she did something wrong by asking personal questions. I was lost in thought when Leliana joined me.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but it appears you got Morrigan to smile?” she said as she sat down.   
“What? Oh, yeah. She is actually kind of nice, once you get to know her. You know, like a cat, kind of… not all cats…” I realized I was babbling and decided to close my mouth. Leliana just grinned at me.

“What?” I asked defensively, “what did I do?”   
“Tell me what you guys were talking about,” she leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice, “tell me the secret to thaw out the witch’s heart.”   
I chuckled, “you know she would kill me if I did that,” I said in the same hushed tone, winking at her. “Seriously though, I don’t want to betray her trust,” I said apologetically.   
“It’s alright, I imagine it was hard-earned,” she said.   
“I think we’re about ready to go, what did you find out?” I asked.

I had asked Leliana to gather what information she could about current events. The news was not good. Blood mages had attacked the tower of Magi, abominations were running wild, it was all rather nasty business.

I groaned and leaned back while pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Of course, because of all the times to turn the tower of Magi into a slaughterhouse filled with abominations and demons running wild, _now_ is the perfect time. Goddamnit! I mean, I expected there to be, complications, hindrances, maybe minor conflict,” I slammed my fist into the table, “not some _abysmal_ _freakshow!_ ”

The others came to see what I was raving on about, although I had to notice that the looks on their faces were priceless when I told them we were going to clean house. I was, however, deadly serious. We needed to at least assess the situation. There might still be mages and Templars alive, locked in with the proverbial abysmal freakshow.

What? Were we just going to leave them to their fates? Of course not. Nope, not us, we were out to kill an Archdemon, what’s a few demons, blood mages, and abominations on the way? And off we went. Fan- _fuckin’_ -tastic.

* * *

“I’m sorry, I am not to allow anyone passage.” A young Templar stated when we approached.   
“Yes, quite the mess over there I hear, surely you wouldn’t refuse help from two Grey Wardens and their companions?” I tried to be charming, but the frustration was still plain in my voice. Morrigan would be proud.

“Grey Wardens huh? You think I’m stupid?” the Templar said.   
“Well yes, but that’s beside the point. I’m afraid I must inform you that I am fresh out of patience to hack my way through blood mages, abominations, and demons. It’s the famous Grey Warden’s appetite you see.”   
The Templar paled a little at that, “I am under strict orders not to let anyone pass,” he said, but he didn’t sound very convinced.

_Good._

“I think your commanding officer might not be pleased, should you turn down expert help.” It was a bluff, but he didn’t call it.   
“Actually, good point. Ser Gregoir would be livid.”   
“Well, we can’t be having that, now can we?”   
“Right, this way ma’am.”

I smiled in satisfaction, and the grin got even wider when I saw my companion’s gawking faces. I winked and followed the Templar.

“How the hell did you do that?” Alistair whispered when we sat down in the boat.   
“Sometimes, I can still be Lady Cousland. If it suits me. Today is one-such day.”

I was in a sweet spot between fierce determination and grim satisfaction. It felt rather good. Alistair leaned in to whisper in my ear.   
“You are the silver-tongued devil herself, you know that?”   
I brushed a soft kiss on his lips, “what does that make you?” I asked.   
“Corrupted,” he smiled mischievously.

“Are you two done? You are making me ill,” Morrigan hissed in our direction. I winked at her but did as she asked. She rolled her eyes, “good. Let me know when you need a contraceptive.”

Bulls-eye Morrigan, I felt my face getting hot as I blushed deeper than ever before. Alistair was doing the same. With a satisfied smirk on her face, she went back to glowering at the Templar.

It took two trips to take us all across. When the Templar went back to get the rest of our companions, we went ahead to check on the situation in the tower.

We found ser Gregoir, the Knight-Commander, barking out orders at a younger Templar. We spoke to him only briefly, he was reluctant to let us in, warning us that he would not open that door unless First Enchanter Irving told him it was safe. He wouldn’t budge on that last bit, so we ended up taking a huge gamble.

But, being more stupid than brave, we took it anyway.

I would thank the Maker that Alistair was there at least a hundred times. His Templar abilities would save our asses more than once. We were relieved to find at least a few mages alive. Among them was a senior mage, Wynne. She had been keeping a barrier in place for days, the snowbird had some serious power. I gladly accepted her offer to help us, her skill in healing spells was invaluable. And she knew the tower, that gave us at least some inclination of what to expect.

Although, she couldn't have prepared us for _all_ the horrors we would be facing. 


	9. The Circle of Magi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, I had only just started writing this fic and wasn't sure how to tackle the Tower of Magi. It was mostly a long string of battles in my experience, it didn't have as much meat on it's bones as Orzammar or the Dalish elves did for me at the time. Since then I've played it over and over again and learned more, so I might change and expand this chapter in the future. Right now I'm just plowing through my monstrous 500.000 word text that I never bothered to fully divide into chapters until I worked up the courage to upload the story here. And it's not even finished yet. Don't worry, the story of the fifth Blight reaches its conclusion, but I just kind of kept going from there. Anyway, here's a brief account of events at the Circle Tower.

Wynne's addition to the party turned out to be essential. We fought demons and whatnot at every corner, and Wynne kept us upright everytime any of us took a hit. Morrigan, as a mage, was an extremely useful asset, but she was no healer. She knew some minor spells, sure, but Wynne's aptitude for healing far exceeded Morrigan's. It was easy to see even if you didn't know very much about magic. Though I suppose you'd have to be pretty thick not to notice someone healing you before you even fully registered your wounds. Adrenaline did that. Morrigan had taken care of our injuries before, but always _after_ a battle. Not during.

Eventually we came across a Tranquil. The first I had ever met in fact. He had been stripped of all magical talent and emotion, leaving him, just that, tranquil. He was no longer at risk of being possessed like the mages. But that also left him practically defenceless. And yet he preferred to stay in his familiar surroundings, somehow he had been lucky enough to survive. Now he was cleaning.

Because why the hell not.

He did have some valuable information for us however. Another mage, Niall, had come to take something called the Litany of Adralla. Wynne explained that it would protect against blood magic. The Tranquil then explained that Niall and a few others had been planning to take on Uldred. Niall hadn’t been heard from after that. All in all, I felt we were doing alright, considering the circumstances. That is, until we met the sloth demon.

I’m not sure what it did exactly, it put us to sleep somehow, forcing us into the Fade. It was no pick-nick, to say the least. It had made some sort of illusion for me, I was at Weisshaupt. And Duncan was there. Which didn’t make sense, he claimed the Blight had been stopped. Alistair had been there too, but it wasn’t right. He wasn’t… Alistair.

That’s when I started to have doubts. And the more I questioned them, the angrier they became. I didn’t understand, stopping the Blight was supposed to be important to them. Now they were claiming it was never a Blight and that the horde had been beaten at Ostagar. Then I realised, Duncan should be dead. It wasn’t real. The best explanation I had, was that it must be a dream. I had to be in the Fade.

Then it all came back to me, we were at the Circle Tower. The last thing I remembered was the sloth demon. That realisation broke the spell, Alistair and Duncan turned to demons. I fought them, and I won. And by some ridiculous stroke of luck, I found Niall, who had been there a while. He told me about seeing small holes, but that there was no way he could fit through.

Imagine my surprise when I encountered another dreamer who happened to be a mouse. One that gave me the ability to turn into a mouse, allowing me to make use of the mouse holes. Long story short, the burning man made me immune to fire, the golem let me smash doors , and the spirit allowed me to use spirit doors. I could finally freely move around the Fade, or at least, the sloth demon's territory inside it. It was filled with more, lesser demons, blood mages, and abominations of course. I found some of my companions, an illusion was tailored specifically for each of them. Some of them quite enlightening.

By the end, I found the sloth demon in the centre of the Fade. The others were there too, we took the demon out. And we woke up.

We took the Litany of Adralla off of Niall’s body. He had urged me to do so in the Fade. He didn’t wake up with us, he had been in the Fade for too long while his body slowly withered and died as the sloth demon fed on him. He told us as much before we left the Fade. He was a good man really, he did what he felt was right. I regret losing him, but there was nothing we could have done, he had expired before we even found him and got pulled into the Fade.

We made our way up the tower, fighting even more demons and crap. When we finally made it to the top, we found a surviving Templar, Cullen, stuck in some sort of magical prison. He was stark-raving-mad if you ask me. Accusing us of being demons, playing tricks on him, and pleading with us to kill each and every mage we found. Alistair pointed out that Cullen was probably going through lyrium withdrawal, and while he was going throught that, he had witnessed his brothers being tortured to death and was being tortured himself. We decided to leave him where he was for the moment, he was rather unpredictable and in no condition to fight. The last thing I wanted was having to stop Cullen from slaughtering innocent mages while I was busy slaughtering _actual_ blood mages.

Uldred was a nasty piece of work, on top of that, he had been trying to convince the other mages at the tower to support Loghain, according to Wynne. This did not sit well with Alistair and me.

Don’t get me wrong, apparently Loghain had promised more freedom from the Chantry in return for the mages’ support, I get that. But that did not justify what he had done to the people in the tower.

Neither did it change the fact that Loghain was a traitor who had purposely abandoned the King and the Grey Wardens to be massacred. Just because he couldn’t deal with the fact that the King was… a bit naive. From what I could tell back at Ostagar, King Cailan had been playing hero like a child. He didn’t take the Blight seriously, he was even disappointed that the battles hadn’t been as glorious as he envisioned. So in all honesty, the King was kind of being a twat if you ask me. Not necessarily a bad King, just not one that was all that focused on ruling. I had known him since my childhood, Fergus and him had been friends once, and I knew his heart was in the right place. He had little interest in ruling, and with Anora, he didn’t really need to. She was a good Queen, and he loved her. Despite all that, he tried to do right by his people where he could. He was kind, but no general. He simply didn’t really know what he was doing, so I could see how Loghain would have to oppose him constantly. But I wasn’t about to let someone die along with hundreds of other men just because I thought I could do a better job. 

Anyway back to Uldred, he had summoned a pride demon at some point, got possessed, and lost his humanity. He was forcing other mages to become abominations when we broke down the door. So naturally, we killed him.

It was no easy job, mind you. He put up a serious fight. After he changed, he cut me down. I have never been wounded that badly before, before Wynne got to me I was very much afraid I was going to die. I had lost a lot of blood, and Wynne couldn’t heal the wounds completely. But at least I was able to walk away from the fight, even if I felt weak and the world spun when I got up.

The adrenaline got me through it I think. Uldred was attempting to turn other mages into abominations while we were in the thick of it. Thank the Maker we had the Litany of Adralla, thanks to Niall. It enabled us to save a few lives. Including First Enchanter Irving’s life.

It was Alistair who delivered the final blow, he had been invaluable. We should have more almost-Templars on the loose if you ask me. Provided they had the same ethics as Alistair. I knew it was hard for him, we had come across a lot of possessed Templars and we had been forced to strike them down. He may have hated it at the Chantry but he bore it and the Templars no ill will. And he could have been one of them.

Irving explained what had transpired prior to the current state of affairs. Uldred had been a Libertarian. The Libertarians were a political school of mages who pleaded for more freedom and independence from the Chantry. Loghain had promised this to Uldred if he could convince the Circle to stand with him. Wynne had explained what truly happened at Ostagar, how Loghain quit the field and left the King and the Grey Wardens to be slaughtered by darkspawn. She revealed Loghain to be a traitor to the throne and the people, opposing Uldred. When Uldred tried to leave, Irving had stopped him.

This was when Uldred attacked, and several mages revealed themselves to be his accomplices, blood mages who had united behind him. He had secretly been recruiting in the tower for years. When Uldred saw he couldn’t win he had summoned the pride demon. It had possessed him, because, _of course_ it did, and he began forcing other mages to do the same. He had tortured the remaining mages, Irving included, to force them into submission. Their willpower had saved them.

The tower had been nearly annihilated, corpses strewn about its halls, walls painted with blood and gore. Irving was badly hurt, after bandaging him, Zevran and Sten had to support him while we made our way down the stairs. Irving cursed at whoever had the bright idea to make it a tower, and I whole-heartedly agreed with him. Meanwhile Alistair half carried me down the stairs, the trip down was a lot harder after losing about two pints of blood. Luckily we had taken care of each and every abomination, demon, or blood mage we had come across. We made it back to ser Gregoir without any more encounters.

After briefly informing ser Gregoir of our success and leaving him to clean up the tower, we went back to the inn. After a night of walking through the rain without any sleep, and fighting our way through the tower, we were exhausted. Plus, I was badly wounded. I decided we would stay at the Spoiled Princess. No one would have to stand guard and we would have actual beds to sleep in after a hot meal.

Wynne, the new addition to our party, treated our injuries. My shirt and armor had been ruined when Uldred had clawed at my back. I had lacerations running across it, they hurt and pulled with every move I made. Wynne cleaned the cuts, using some kind of poultice that helped numb the pain before stitching me back together. She bandaged me up and moved on to Alistair. He had a nasty cut in his hairline, curtesy of demon Uldred. Morrigan had a few bruises but was otherwise fine, she tended to stay out of the heat of battle and attack from a distance. One of the perks of being a mage. Zevran had a black eye, a sprained wrist, and a cut on his hamstring. Of course, he _had_ to make some smart comments about the location of the wound and who would tend to it. Wynne scolded him for me, but I think he liked it. Alistair just glared at him, I wouldn’t be surprised if Zevran wound up with a second black eye in the near future, either from me or from Alistair.

At any rate, I decided I had earned some peace and quiet to nurse my wounds after I made sure all my companions were ok. I had a bottle of wine brought to my room, and prepared to spend the night slowly getting drunk with my faithful Mabari, and pass out.


	10. Finally, some privacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair decides to check up on Fela, who is alone in her room, which has a door with a lock.

In the last couple of days, I had seen more death than ever before. I had killed more than ever before. I needed to take a moment to process this. Wynne had given me something to help with the pain, aside from the numbing poultice, and it was mixing with the drink nicely. I lounged back lazily in front of the fireplace in a pile of blankets, furs, and pillows, with Asher next to me, when I heard a knock on the door.

“It’s me, can I come in?” I heard Alistair call. “Door is open,” I called back. Both of us were wearing regular cloths, well mostly, I wasn’t wearing any pants, again. I lay basking in the heat coming from the fireplace when he entered, I gestured for him to join me and held out the bottle of wine. “I must warn you, I am currently not in full control of my faculties,” I said while taking back the bottle from him and taking another sip. Alistair smiled at me and sat down, I lay my head down in his lap, gazing up at him.

“So, how are you holding up about this whole mess?” I asked him.

He remained quiet for a moment before answering.  
“It’s madness,” he said, “absolute madness, what the hell have we been doing these last couple of days?” he said and I handed him the bottle again.  
“Yeah I know what you mean,” I said, “wine helps take the edge off… I… am not used to killing this much. Not used to being in mortal danger this much. I have seen and caused so much death…”

I realised I was thinking out loud, and shut myself up by taking another sip of wine. Then continued talking anyway.

“I am having trouble putting it to rest. I know we’ve done a lot of good things as well, saved a lot of people. But… you know… while it may feel good cutting down solid evil standing in front of you, it’s quite different when faced with innocent people who have been possessed. Even if the only way to stop them, to save yourself and those you care about, is to kill them,” I was whispering, gazing into the fire again.

“You’re coming to terms with being a killer,” Alistair said, his voice sounded far away. I looked up at him again.

“What now?”  
“I mean, we’re both killers. Our entire party consists of killers. But it’s not something that people like you and I can ever be proud of. While sometimes, killing may feel good because it feels just, there will be times when someone forces your hand, when it feels wrong, and you guilt yourself into regretting saving yourself instead of that other person,” Alistair explained.

He made a lot of sense. I was a killer when I was eleven years old but that kill had felt just, so I carried no guilt and never thought of myself as a murderer. The same went for Howe's soldiers when they invaded my home and killed my family. But it was different with Templars who were just doing their jobs and had gotten locked in the tower when ser Gregoir retreated and closed it off entirely.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Thank the Chantry, it’s what they told me when I was forced to kill a mage at her Harrowing.”  
“Her what?”  
“The Harrowing, it’s when mage apprentices are send into the Fade to fight a demon. It’s how they prove they are able to resist the temptations in the Fade. Every mage goes through it at the Circle, save for the ones that become Tranquil,” Alistair explained.  
“And what if they don’t manage to defeat the demon?” I asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.  
“They become abominations and are put down by the attending Templars,” he replied.  
“And this is part of Templar training? Before the final vows are taken?” I asked and Alistair nodded.  
“It was a young woman, the mage. They made her go through the Harrowing, she didn’t want to. She told them she wasn’t ready. But they forced her to do it anyway… It fell to me to kill her… She knew she was going to die before the ritual started and she knew I would be the one to kill her. She knew exactly what was going to happen but was not given a choice, so she took her chances with the demon.”

“By the Maker… That death was on them, the Templars and mages who made her do it, not you and not her,” I whispered.  
“Exactly,” Alistair said and smiled down at me, “it doesn’t stop me from feeling guilt and regret but… It happened and I cannot change that.” We both quietly stared into the fire again. We did that a lot.

“You, need more wine, Alistair,” I said and handed him the bottle, “that kind of wisdom can only come from long and deep thought and contemplation, let’s numb it,” I said, and he chuckled.  
“Yes, great advice,” he said.  
“It’s how us noble Ladies deal with their worry and sorrow.”  
“When you are not dismembering darkspawn you mean?”  
“Precisely.”  
“I think we are going to need another bottle,” he said.

“I am currently in a minor state of undress, and do not plan to leave this room any time soon,” I stretched, carefully so I wouldn’t tear my wounds, and rolled onto my stomach.  
“It falls to me then, to bring my Lady her refreshments,” Alistair said and I glowered up at him.  
“Oh, so you can call yourself a Lady but when I do it it’s a bad thing?” he asked.  
“That is exactly right, I don’t call you by _your_ title either,” I said and watched how Alistair grew pale and tensed.  
“My title?” he asked.

“Yeah, _bastard_ ,” I said with a wide grin.  
He relaxed noticeably and laughed, “being called ‘my Lady’ and being called ‘bastard’ are not the same thing,” he said.  
“Depends on how you look at it,” I replied.  
“Alright, alright, I’ll go get that bottle. As a peace offering,” he winked and got up to leave the room.

I lay back down, his response to my comment about his ‘title’ suggested there really _was_ a title. It gave me some inclination of what had been bothering him. But I decided to leave it alone, I promised him I would. And if he had skeletons in the closet, I didn’t need to know about them right now. I had a room, a fire, a bed, and Alistair on his way with a bottle of wine. I wasn’t going to ruin this.

“What do you think Asher, does he have deep dark secrets that will forever change the way I look at him?” Asher wagged his tail and looked up at me with intelligent eyes.  
“I don’t suspect so either. But he seems… so troubled.” Asher let out a sigh of stinky dog breath.  
“Alright, good talk buddy,” I said while averting my face and scratching him behind his ear, "your wisdom knows no bounds."

Asher closed his eyes and went back to dozing off. I moved to get my notebook out of my pack. I had been keeping a record of all that we had been doing. People we met, things we did, objects and information we found, that sort of thing. It might not be of use to me now but maybe one day it would. Besides, if we died a logbook might be of some use to whoever found our bodies, maybe… I don’t know.

It wasn’t long before Alistair came back into the room, “what are you writing about?” he asked as he sat down next to me.  
“I’ve been keeping a logbook,” I explained, showing him what I wrote.  
“Ah, I was secretly hoping you were writing about me in your diary,” he grinned and gave me a long tender kiss.  
“Do I really seem like the type of girl to do that?” I asked playfully.  
“Nah, you seem like the kind of girl who would just go and get what she wanted.”

I grinned and eyed him up and down, “we were very rudely interrupted the other night,” I began, “I was rather cross about that. I may have taken my frustration out on the shriek.”  
“So you did, it wasn’t interrupting anyone else after that,” Alistair said, while pulling me towards him. He lay down on his back and I sat on top of him, his hands gently stroking my legs.

“There won’t be any shrieks bothering us here,” I replied while trailing my fingers up Alistair’s chest to reach his collar where I started to unlace it. The heat of his skin rose through the fabric, and I could feel his heartbeat thrum under my palms. It was racing. I smiled, tracing my fingertips along his collarbone, now reachable with the unlaced collar.

“I don’t think anyone is going to be bothering you tonight,” he replied, “Wynne strictly forbade us from doing that. And I locked the door.”  
I giggled, tugging at the hem of his shirt to get at his stomach, “well isn’t that convenient? We could pick up where we left off.” His hands were creeping up to my hips now, cupping and squeezing along the way.

I felt heat pooling between my thighs at his touch, it was sure and certain. Not like I had expected it to be. Then again, I had made no secret of the fact that I was interested in his attentions. So _very_ interested. His erection pressed into my thigh, and I couldn’t help but run my fingertips along his length, light as a feather. It made him shiver and suck in a sharp breath before letting out a groan deep in his throat.

Oh, I wanted to hear more of that.

I felt his hips starting to move while he guided mine with his hands to match his rhythm. I stared down into his eyes, he had that look again, dark and hungry. I leaned down to kiss him but stopped and winched when I felt the skin of my back burn where it tugged at the cuts and stitches.

“Ow, sorry. I forgot my back has been cut to ribbons,” I said as I sat up straight again.  
“Let me see,” Alistair asked while getting up, I reluctantly got off him and let him help remove my shirt.  
“Wynne cleaned, stitched, and dressed the wounds, it should be fine,” I said.  
“She bandaged you up pretty thoroughly, I can’t see a thing,” he said as he ran his hand gently across my back. “Do you mind if I remove them? I might be able to help by putting some of that numbing poultice on it. She used it on my cuts too,” he asked.  
“Alright then, go ahead,” I said, letting him remove the bandages and lying down on my stomach.

“Wow, that pride demon got you good,” he said as my wounds were exposed.  
“Yeah well, we don’t all wear heavy metal plates for armor,” I said, he chuckled at that and started to gently rub the poultice on the wounds.  
“This stuff works great but it doesn’t work for very long. A few hours at most. I could do it again in the morning if you like?” Alistair asked.  
“Thank you, Alistair, I would appreciate that,” I said.

“So how bad does it look?” I asked, I hadn’t been able to see for myself and could only go by what others told me.  
“It looks like it hurts like hell,” he replied while continuing to apply the poultice.  
“Not as much as when I just got them, I was screaming my head off,” I said.  
“I recall, thank the Maker Wynne was there with her healing spells, I thought I could even see bone before she got to you,” Alistair replied while he started to dress the wounds again and put the bandage back on.  
“Her spells reversed much of the damage but not all of it. The rest is going to have to heal by itself,” I said and I sat back up, allowing Alistair to wrap the bandage around me again.

He was being a perfect gentleman, “where did you come by so much self-restraint, Alistair?” I asked.  
“What do you mean?” he asked while finishing wrapping the bandage around me.  
I turned back to face him, “how do you go back to being a perfect gentleman right after we start messing around?”  
“You were in pain,” he offered, “I can’t just ignore your discomfort.”  
I smiled, “you’re sweet, you are more of a gentleman than I am a lady.” I leaned forward to kiss him, Alistair responded by gently wrapping his arms around me and pulling me on top of him again.  
“Feel better?” he whispered against my lips.  
“Yes, much better,” I whispered back as I traced his jawline with my lips and gently kissed his neck down to his shoulder.

He moaned softly in my ear, and his hands slid back to my hips. His soft purr send a tingle down my spine, making my hips move of their own volition. I bit his neck as he sat up, taking me with him, one arm wrapped around me to hold me close to him, the other wrapped around my hips with his hand grabbing a handful of my ass. He kissed the tops of my breasts as I arched my back, and ran my hands through his hair, tracing my fingertips over his scalp.

He moved to gently lay me down on my back atop the furs and pillows, cradling me in his arms while he turned us around. He kissed me passionately, teasing my lips with his tongue. My lips parted and I playfully bit down on his lower lip. He reciprocated by kissing me harder and I let my hands slide down his back to find the hem of his shirt. I let my hands slide under it, tracing the firm muscles in his back. Our lips parted briefly as he pulled it off, giving me full access to his muscular torso.

My hands ran over his shoulders, his arms, his chest, I couldn’t get enough. He just felt _so_ good. He made me want to grab at him, to dig my nails into his skin en mark him as mine. The kiss turned more urgent, and I bit his lower lip again, harder this time, enough to make him gasp before pulling back and biting down on my neck. I ran my fingernails down across his back before moving to unfasten his pants with eager, fumbling fingers. Luckily he came to my rescue, pulling his pants down and kicking them off. He tugged at my panties next, and I lifted my hips to let him pull them down. I would have been completely naked if it hadn’t been for the bandages around my torso.

He put a hand on one of my knees and slowly parted my legs, letting his hand slide down my thigh and slowly exploring between my folds, watching me for my response. His fingers slid down my clit, then my labia, and finally my opening. Causing me to gasp and grab at the blankets and furs we were on.

His fingers were moving tantalizingly slow, careful and deliberate, seeking the places that made me gasp, moan, and growl. He drank in each response, taking his time to learn and memorise. As a result, his touches became increasingly pleasurable. I held my breath and shivered when he pressed his thumb to my clit. Then let it out in a gasp when he slid one of his fingers inside me. He held still for a moment, getting acquainted with the slick heat pressing down on his finger before exploring what sounds he could make me produce from there. I could feel his cock twitch against my thigh, and pressed back against it, encouraging Alistair to grind himself against me. 

I grabbed hold of the hair on the back of his head and pulled him down to kiss me. With my other hand I slid down his smalls and started rubbing him, he let out a deep guttural moan when he felt my grasp. His entire body tensed, stilling his movements while his muscles went taut with excitement.

The skin of his shaft felt like velvet under my palm, smooth and soft. Flexible around the hardened flesh. Made for fucking. “I want you,” I whispered against his lips, “please.”

It had the desired effect, he pulled down his smalls and positioned himself on top, careful not to put too much of his weight on me. I used my hand to guide him down to where I wanted him. We both moaned as he slowly slid inside, filling me inch by inch. Once he was fully seated inside me, he held still for a moment. Taking a few deep, shuddering breaths. I traced lazy swirling patterns down his shoulders and back with my fingernails, holding him while he steadied himself. He leaned on his elbows, planted on either side of my head, and dipped his own to catch my lips in a searing kiss before he started moving inside me. Slowly at first, careful, savouring the feeling. I let out a moan at the friction, which was muffled by his kiss. I held on a little tighter, urging him on, desperate for more contact, more friction, more of _him_. He moved more confidently now, encouraged by the sounds he was drawing from me. I clung on to him when his thrusts became more forceful, nipping at his jaw, teasing the tender skin with my teeth. He growled low in his throat, though more in pleasure than anything else, nuzzling the side of my neck.

We picked up the pace, my hips moving to match his thrusts. I wrapped my legs around him, pressing him deeper inside me by locking my ankles behind his back. He let out a laboured growl at the sensation. His skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat now, making it slick under my touch. The heat between us build, he tangled his fingers in my hair and leaned down to kiss me again. He teased my lower lip with his teeth, our tempo slowly increasing further.

I let myself get lost in the sensations, the motions of our bodies, and his soft moans and sighs. He broke away from our kiss when our breathing got too fast, nuzzling my neck instead. I let my hands wander the muscles in his back and shoulders, rolling under his skin.

Then he slowed down, breathing hard, his face still in my neck. I moved my hips against his to urge him on and make him continue. He did, but it was hesitant, “Fela,” he panted and gripped my hip with one of his hands in an attempt to hold me still, “I’m- oh, _shit_ , I’m-”  
“I know,” I whispered wantonly, “it’s ok, this one is about you. Come for me, please.”

He groaned, sending a tingle through my ear and straight down my spine, and picked up the pace again, thrusting into me with abandon. I gasped at his sudden urgency and let out surprised, high-pitched moans. And _Maker,_ did it feel good. I felt him throb when he bit down on my shoulder with a growl, pulsing and releasing his seed. We slowly rocked to a stop, and he carefully put more of his weight on me, kissing the teeth marks he left on my shoulder.

He sighed contently when he slipped out, then tensed and propped himself up on one elbow, “did you… you didn’t, did you?” I supressed a chuckle at his phrasing, he sounded terribly embarrassed saying it, and a little ashamed, I didn’t want to make that worse.  
“Not yet,” I whispered reassuringly, “but we still have all night.”  
He bowed his head, resting it on my shoulder, “I’m sorry.”  
“No, no,” I said soothingly, “none of that. If anything it makes me want to do it again.”  
“But you didn’t… I mean, was that good for you? You know if you didn’t… get off?” he asked, without raising his head. Probably to avoid my gaze.

“Alistair, did I _sound_ like that wasn’t good for me?” I asked and ran a hand through his hair, “it was your first time, and we have all night.”  
“Aren’t you disappointed?” he asked.  
“Disappointed?” I repeated and chuckled a little, “oh no, Alistair. I got a very promising taste, and I want more now. The first time is always quick for men, but they all last longer the second time.” I cooed the last addition in his ear and nipped at his earlobe before running my tongue against the sensitive skin behind his ear. Then kissed along his hairline and let a hand wander down his back to squeeze his butt. It got the point across, and he relaxed.

Now to boost his ego a bit, “there are a lot of men out there who don’t last as long as you did, and I don’t mean during their first time.” I could feel him smile against my shoulder, but he didn’t reply. Still a little shy then, that’s ok.

“Look at it this way,” I began, “sex feels fantastic, so the first time is usually overwhelming and quick. But,” I reached down to stroke his half-hard cock, “now we have that out of the way, and I can start showing you how to make me scream.”

He let out a low chuckle, “I like the sound of that.”  
“I think you like the _thought_ just as well,” I whispered back.

His cock had gone rigid under my touch and Alistair’s breathing had gotten ever so slightly laboured with pleasure. One of his hands moved to cup a breast, gently kneading the flesh as he tugged the bandage down a bit, exposing one pert nipple, before leaning down to suckle on it. He looked up and smirked when I let out a moan, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bud once more.

“I’m having many thoughts,” he whispered, moving to lean on both his elbows so he could knead both breasts while he looked up at me.  
“Care to share some of them?” I replied, watching his grin widen.

Turns out my virtuous Templar had a dirty mind, he admitted to fantasising about this moment. How he would run his fingers over my skin to make me shiver, knead my flesh to make me sigh. What I would taste like. He spent a long time just admiring my shape and planting the occasional kiss. I was happy to let him show me how he pictured it in his mind, because it was _really_ good. He wasn’t just exploring my body, he was figuring out how to play it and make me sing. And he made me feel desired, revelling in each sound he drew from my lips, every twitch of muscle and sharp intake of breath. He reminded me of what I already knew, Alistair was a fast learner. It wasn’t long before he had me writhing and whimpering beneath him from just his touches alone. He kissed a slow wandering trail down my lower abdomen, curious to see what he could achieve with his tongue.

The answer to that question, apparently pleased him. Most men who eat a pussy for the first time are hesitant, maybe it's the taste or that they're looking for the right spots. But Alistair had no problem diving in and devouring me like he was a starved man. The feeling of his tongue between my folds, hot, wet, and soft had me arching my back involuntarily. Which hurt, but I was too caught up in what Alistair was doing to me to care. The look of pride on his face when I came had me chuckle wantonly. This was a man who liked to make his woman scream, and that's what I was. His woman. It hadn't been said explicitly, but there really was no need for words. 

We fucked a second time after that, and a third. If Alistair remembered his initial embarrasment, it was quickly forgotten. By the time we curled up in each other's arms, smiling stupidly, there was no trace left of it. My brain stopped working there for a moment, feeling Alistair’s warmth beside me, and the afterglow of the release I had craved for days.

“By the Maker, there is nothing like sex after a long battle,” I whispered.  
I felt Alistair smile into my neck, “you would know I suppose, this is my standard now as it is my only reference.”  
A lazy grin played around my lips, “I find it an agreeable standard, if you keep fucking me like that every time.” I didn’t need to look behind me to know that he was blushing.

“You know according to the sisters at the Chantry I would have been struck by lightning by now,” he said.  
I giggled, “not if you fuck a silver-tongued devil, you get certain privileges.”  
Alistair softly laughed at that, “that completes my corruption then.”

“Those old shrivelled prunes don’t know what they are missing, they wouldn’t be that sour if they embraced their primal instincts every once in a while.” I yawned, and snuggled back into Alistair. He put his arm around me.  
“You sure let yours run the show a lot, which is a good thing.”  
I giggled, “you realise that primal instincts include destroying other life?”  
Alistair yawned, “yeah, yeah, you kill and then you engage in the act of making life, happy instincts, happy Alistair.”  
I snickered, “yes, and happy Fela.”

Alistair moved to pull a blanket over us, but by then I had already drifted off to sleep.


	11. Reluctant Renegade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Fela spend a pleasant morning together before the group gets back on the road to Redcliffe. Leliana sings for them on the way there. 
> 
> I've included the lyrics of the song, but the credit goes to the artist of course, Morcheeba, the song is called blood like lemonade. I am personally not a fan of including songs or poetry in stories, and honestly, I didnt plan on including it at first. But as you'll see, the song's lyrics peak Fela's curiosity, so excluding it would have undermined that.

I woke up early, Alistair was still fast asleep. The fire had died out, but the embers were still faintly glowing. I gently moved Alistair’s arm so I could get up. The pain in the wounds on my back was flaring up. For a moment I thought about waking Alistair up to ask him to treat my wounds again. Then decided to let him sleep, I could wait.

I took my time getting dressed, moving slowly to avoid as much pain as possible, and took Asher for a walk, it was still early, the horizon had barely starting to glow. Mist drifted over lake Calenhad, obscuring the lower parts of the Circle tower. It loomed over the lake like a massive monolith. I stood gazing at it from across the lake, my thoughts were with the dead that still lay in that tower. Filling me with a feeling of regret. Though not for long, Asher nuzzled my hand, letting me know he was ready to go and it was time to stop indulging in self-pity. We went back inside, and crept back to the room. The inn was still quiet, the others must have still been asleep.

Alistair was awake when we entered.

“There you are,” he said, “I was beginning to worry.” I smiled and carefully leaned down to kiss him.  
“Just walking my dog, he’s smart but doors still prove a bit of a challenge,” I said as I slowly moved to crawl back into the pile of blankets and furs. Asher just wagged his tail as he let Alistair pet him. I snuggled up against Alistair and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Did you sleep well?” I asked.  
“I slept like a baby,” he said and moved to kiss me long and slow.  
“Yeah, me too. I had fewer nightmares too I think,” I whispered when our lips parted.  
“So how does your back feel?” Alistair asked.  
“It still hurts like hell, but it’s better than yesterday I guess. What about your head?” I replied and moved my hand up to the cut, Wynne had stitched it expertly.

“It’s fine, just a cut, no concussion. Now, let’s take that shirt off and let me take care of you,” Alistair said and I complied, allowing him to pull off my shirt and remove the bandages before laying down on my stomach again.

“Wynne said I would have pretty scars… whatever those look like,” I mumbled while Alistair cleaned my wounds before rubbing the numbing poultice on again.  
“They will likely become like silver lines streaking your back, rather than red gashes. She stitched you up very neatly, pulling your skin back together just right. The cuts are already healing,” Alistair said while gently going about his task.  
“Do you have a lot of experience with stitches and the scars they leave?” I asked. “More than you I suppose… Templar training and all that. A good warrior knows how to treat his wounds.”  
I chuckled, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?”  
“Are we talking about scars or something else?” He said with a playful note in his voice.  
“Hmm, why not both?”

I didn’t need to look back up to know he was blushing again.

“You’re terrible,” he said.  
“You love it,” I replied, slowly getting up to let him put the bandages back. That earned me a soft chuckle and a kiss on my shoulder where he brushed my hair aside.

“Feeling better?” he asked, and I replied by kissing him.  
“Thank you, you take good care of me.” Alistair smiled and laid back down.  
“Any time,” he replied.  
“So, are you hungry?” I asked, “I’m starving.”  
Alistair nodded lazily, “yeah, but I am way to comfortable to get up just yet,” he said as he pulled me in for a kiss.

“It’s my Grey Warden’s appetite,” I said in between kisses, “you know how it is.”  
He grinned against my lips, “Grey Warden appetites go beyond just eating you know.”  
“Do they now? Is that why you gave into your lusts so soon?” I replied. Feeling his breathing getting heavier as I nibbled his earlobe.  
“No, that was all on you,” he whispered back.  
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I said innocently.”  
Alistair smiled, “for starters, all that sweettalking in my ear, and then inviting me into your bedroll while you were only half dressed,” he said accusingly.  
“As I recall, _you_ asked _me_ if you could join me. And I did give you a fair warning, just like last night. But we didn’t fuck because we were drunk did we?” I reprimanded, Alistair grinned sheepishly.  
“Nope,” he replied, "I think I speak for both of us when I say we _really_ wanted to."  
“That has not changed, I can tell,” I whispered into his mouth and I moved my hand down his stomach.

At that moment we heard a knock on the door.

I cursed under my breath, getting up to send whoever it was on their way. I was still wearing pants, and my bandages covered my torso, so I didn’t bother putting on a shirt. I made my way to the door and called to ask who it was.

“It’s Wynne,” I heard from the other side, “I came to see if you needed any more of that numbing poultice.”

I opened the door slightly, not far enough for her to look inside and see Alistair watch me with an amused grin.

“Good morning,” Wynne said when I poked my head around the door, “I hope you managed to get some sleep.”  
I nodded, “yeah, I’m fine. Thanks. You do good work,” I said, thinking of a believable way to get rid of her without offending her.

“Fela?” she asked with a stern look.  
“Yes?”  
“That is not how I left the bandages yesterday,” she was inspecting Alistair’s handiwork.  
“Yes, I had some help, I needed some more of that numbing poultice last night and I didn’t want to wake you up.”  
She looked at me inquisitively, “who helped you?” she asked.  
“Morrigan,” I said, “she’s helped me take care of wounds before. She is no healer but she knows what she is doing.”

Most of that was true, the best lies have some truth in them right?

“Morrigan? The apostate?” Wynne asked.  
I nodded, hoping Wynne would drop it.  
“And did she help you again this morning?” Wynne continued.

Shit, she wasn’t buying it. But I still nodded again.

“Well, good. And by the way, have you seen Alistair?” she asked innocently.

For a moment I considered just opening the door and be done with this beating around the bush.

Then I decided against it, “uh no, maybe he went out for a walk or something. Grey Wardens often have trouble sleeping,” I said.  
“Alright,” Wynne said, “I’ll leave you to your business then.” She gave me a knowing look and left.

I sighed as I closed the door, “she did not buy that for one second,” I said as I turned back to Alistair, who was grinning widely.

“You do not seem upset about that,” he noted.  
“No, not really,” I said as I let my pants drop to the floor and got back under the blankets with Alistair.

“I just really hate getting interrupted,” I whispered into his ear, and started to kiss him again. Alistair wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, letting his hands slide down my back, careful of the bandages, and grabbing hold of my ass. I playfully nipped at his neck, slowly kissing my way down his chest, and his stomach.

Alistair gasped as my hand wrapped around his cock and my tongue ran across his tip. I felt his fingers get tangled in my hair as I slowly took him into my mouth. With my other hand I ran my fingernails gently across his stomach, taking firm hold of his hip. He bucked when I gently started to suck but I pressed him down. Slowly bobbing my head up and down. He was loving every second of it, given his grunts and moans. I released my hand, taking him in my mouth completely, and ran my hands across his stomach and down his sides again. I took hold of the tops of his legs, just below the point where they met his torso, and gently squeezed as I kept moving my head up and down.

Alistair grew more and more vocal while I took my time sucking him off. There was no need to rush, I wanted to savour it, let him enjoy this new sensation. He groaned and bucked when I sucked him into my mouth, moaned whenever I swirled my tongue around the tip, and growled whenever I played with his balls. He was watching me, his eyes darkened with desire and hazy with lust. There was something wonderfully powerful about making a man like Alistair writhe like that.

I felt his legs stiffen under my grip, and picked up the pace. Working him to his climax while holding his gaze. He let out a groan that came close to a roar, and I felt him pulsate, releasing his seed in my mouth. He shuddered as I slowly released him, swallowing and licking my lips. His eyes were closed and he was breathing fast. But I wasn’t done with him yet.

I slowly kissed his lower abdomen, causing him to shiver. I ran my tongue across his skin up to his chest and worked my way up to his neck. I felt his arms around me, holding me close to him, whispering in my ear, “silver-tongued devil indeed.”  
I let out a low chuckle, “you haven’t seen half of it,” I whispered into his neck. Then gently bit his earlobe, and proceeded to kiss him just behind his ear. Following his hairline back down and to his neck. Devouring it before moving on to his mouth.

“How did a girl like you fall for a guy like me?” he whispered between kisses.  
“Because of your irresistible charm, of course,” I teased, slowly reaching down to find him hard and ready to go, “and because of that.”

It drove him wild. He rolled me down onto my stomach, lifted my hips and thrust himself inside me. I bit down on a pillow to suppress a scream. I rode a fine line between pain and pleasure at his forcefulness, I turned my head to find his lips, his tongue. I bit down on the tip.

“No more biting,” he grunted and slapped my ass with one hand, I let out a pleasured yelp. He pressed me down and wrapped one hand around my neck to lift my head back.  
“Make me,” I grunted back at him.

He got up on his knees, pulling me with him by my hips. He grabbed hold of my hair and pulled my head back.

This was a whole new side of Alistair, a bossy, dominant side I had never seen before. And _Maker_ did it turn me on. It was fast, hard, and demanding. It had heat coiling in my belly, a delicious tension spreading through my stomach, my chest, my limbs. I cried out when it snapped and I reached my climax, reaching back to slow Alistair down while waves of pleasure coursed through me.

He leaned down on top of me and licked the shell of my ear before whispering, “I’m not done with you yet.”

He continued to slowly move his hips again, making me gasp. I was sensitive from the orgasm but he didn’t stop. Kissing the back of my shoulder, he increased his tempo slightly, while sliding one hand down to rub my clit. It was almost too much, I lost myself in ecstasy. The pleasure reaching such an intensity that I forgot everything but Alistair's cock inside me and his fingers on my clit. My arms gave out at some point, I ended up leaning on my elbows and touching my forehead to the ground. Well, the blankets and furs that covered it. 

He stopped to roll me onto my back, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me hard. I wrapped myself around him in return as he continued thrusting into me and breathing hard into my neck. He was as close as he could be and still it wasn't enough. All I knew was that I wanted more, more of _him._ I wanted to melt into him and never come back out, he felt too good. Inside me, on top of me, holding me, kissing me, it was the sweetest pleasure. 

We changed positions, him on his back and me on top, slowly moving my hips in a circular motion back and forth. Alistair put his hands on my hips to guide my movements, watching my breasts bounce with the motions. His grip on my hips got so tight I worried he might bruise me, so I pulled at his wrists to make him sit up and wrap his arms around my waist. His face pressed into my chest as we continued moving to my rhythm. My arms around his shoulders as I arched my back, a delicious tension spread through my body again as I felt Alistair’s grip on me intensify while he went over the edge. The pulse and throb of his cock was enough, I came with him, clenching my teeth and groaning through it. The heightened sensitivity caused by the previous orgasm made this one all the more intense. I felt my muscles contract, making my body shake while I slowly reduced our tempo to a halt, riding out the final waves, and facing down to kiss him.

Alistair pulled me down again, and stroked my hair as I lay on top of him. Neither of us spoke as we were catching our breath. I just held Alistair close, savouring the moment. At some point, I found the strength to roll off and snuggle up against him. I would have gone right back to sleep if Alistair hadn’t broken the silence.

He sighed and spoke softly, “you know our little party is going to talk, right? They do that.”  
“First smart comment, and I feed them to the darkspawn,” I mumbled lazily.  
Alistair chuckled, “see? That’s why I love you.”   
“I love you too,” I sighed, I was barely able to remember my name at that point. My mind was wonderfully empty, I just felt the echoes of sweet release, Alistair’s body against mine.

“You want to know how I fell for you?” I whispered, remembering what he had said earlier.  
“Yes,” Alistair whispered back.  
“You caught my eye back at Ostagar, you were witty, playful, and full of life. And while I had felt like an empty shell for days, after losing everything that I ever loved, you had me smiling within the hour…”

I paused, remembering how he caught my attention by telling me that the Blight had a funny way of bringing people together. I had been in a daze up until that point, but that silly comment snapped me back to reality. Simply because it caught me off guard, it had been the last thing I had expected to hear.

“And then you came with the brilliant idea to slaughter some darkspawn to work out some of the grief. You have to realise, I was raised a highborn Lady. No one would ever have dared to suggest such a thing to me, but you did. And it happened to be exactly what I needed.”  
Alistair chuckled, “you did go to town on those first five.”  
I smiled, “what I mean is that you treated me as just a person, not as a highborn lady, not as a girl you wanted to impress, not as a materialistic interest, just… me.”

“What do you mean by materialistic interest?” Alistair asked.  
“My mother had been on a six year crusade to find me a husband. I got paraded around a lot, and when you’re a Teyrn’s daughter some men will just want to marry you for your father’s wealth,” I explained, "those that don't often don't feel comfortable having a wife with a higher social status. Their ego's get in the way."

Alistair chuckled.

“What?” I asked.  
“I was imagining you, dressed as a proper highborn Lady, bored to death by men throwing themselves at you in a desperate attempt to impress you. Occasionally torturing one with that sharp tongue of yours,” he replied.  
“Why is that funny?” I asked defensively.  
“Because I know you first as a bloodthirsty, dual-wielding devil covered in darkspawn blood.”  
“You forgot silver-tongued.”  
“Right, that too,” he said, I giggled at that.

“Anyway, I’ve always felt like an outsider, I never truly fit in at court. People only ever seemed to respond to one side of me, the highborn Lady, and the rest of me is ignored. And with you, I felt right at home, because you saw me for who I am.”  
“The afore-mentioned bloodthirsty, dual wielding, _silver-tongued_ devil covered in darkspawn blood,” Alistair summarized.  
“Exactly,” I grinned, “don’t get me wrong, I had a good life, privileged. It all seems so trivial now, getting married and having kids… Well, those things have never been high on my list anyway… Stopping the Blight is kind of taking up the entire list right now.”

Alistair remained oddly quiet. I waited for him to break the silence.

He sat up and looked down at me, “ok, I really don’t know how to tell you this…” he began.  
“Tell me what?” I asked patiently.  
“Remember when I said I never knew my father? Well that wasn’t entirely true…”  
“You can tell me.”  
“Alright, here it goes. While I did not really _know_ my father, I do know who he was,” Alistair took a pause, “he was King Maric. Which makes Cailan my half-brother… I suppose. My mother was a serving girl at Arl Eamon’s estate, and so the Arl took me in,” Alistair finished, and looked at me expectantly.

I took a moment to collect my thoughts, then decided to lighten the mood a bit.

“So you’re not just a bastard, you’re a _royal_ bastard,” I said with a grin.  
Alistair let out a relieved laugh. “Yes I suppose I am, I’ve got to use that one more often. But anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was going to tell you after the battle at Ostagar, but… well… Things didn’t exactly go as I expected. I mean, how do you just tell someone that?”  
I smiled and reached up to touch his cheek, “why tell me now?” I asked and he looked away.  
“Because we will be leaving for Redcliffe soon, and you would have found out sooner or later. I’d rather you hear it from me.”

“It’s has come up, Alistair, you have been avoiding it, what changed?”

“I guess, part of me liked you not knowing. Thing is, I’m not used to telling anyone who didn’t already know, and I always got treated differently for it. At the Chantry, common kids thought I put on airs and the noble kids called me 'bastard.' Even Duncan, the only Grey Warden who knew, kept me out of the fray because of it. Once people know, I stop being just Alistair, I didn’t want that to happen with you. I wanted you to like me for who I am and not for my blood,” he still wouldn’t look me straight in the eye.

“What makes you think that your blood changes how I feel about you? Since when does blood even matter to us?” I got up to face him, “I love you, Alistair, and not because of your blood.” Finally he met my eyes, he looked slightly relieved.

“So, you’re not angry?” he asked apprehensively.  
“No, I think I understand. You couldn’t have known how I would respond, and you didn’t want to ruin things between us. Which, you did not, by the way. But it does raise a difficult question-” Alistair interrupted me, “before you say anything, I don’t even want the throne. My whole life it has been made abundantly clear to me that I have no place in the royal family, and I don’t want it. Eamon has a far better claim than me anyway, or even queen Anora, and I wouldn’t know the first thing about being King.”

“You may not have a choice.”  
“Not if I have anything to say about it.”  
“I’m sorry Alistair, but we don’t always get to choose our paths in life. This is even more true when you are born into nobility, your birth comes with a duty to your house. Hell, I should know, I was to be a broodmare.”  
“Exactly, and now look at you.”  
“Yeah, well… It’s not exactly the same, is it?”

We fell silent for a moment, looking at one another.

Finally I sighed. “Ok look, I love you and I want to be with you. But if you do end up taking the throne, you will have to take a wife to produce an heir.”

Alistair opened his mouth to respond but I stopped him.

“I know now is not the time for such a conversation, maybe it never will be. But we have to think about where this is going between us. And if I have it my way, we stay together and sneak off to Orlais in the middle of the night to spend the rest of our lives eating cheese and drinking wine. But I cannot do that, _you_ cannot do that. We have a duty and a responsibility to uphold. Where ever we end up, just know that, as long as I draw breath, I will be right there beside you, King or no King. But, also know that a political marriage might be inevitable, and I will still be there. If you’ll have me.”

Alistair looked at me dumbfounded.

“Wow, you don’t shy away from the hard questions do you?”  
I shrugged, “I had some time to think about it.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You kind of gave yourself away yesterday when I mentioned your ‘title’. And you and Cailan both look very much like your father.”  
Alistair shook his head, “you saw right through me, and here I was thinking you’d never guess.”  
“You really need to manage your expectations of me better.”  
“Well you do keep surprising me. And thank you, I cannot imagine being without you, not ever,” Alistair said and he pulled me in for a long kiss. “Let’s just focus on the Blight first, we can worry about all that stuff later,” Alistair said, and I smiled my agreement against his lips.

After that heart to heart we got dressed and ready for breakfast. I didn’t bother looking ashamed or self-conscious when we were met with several grinning faces, and a couple of disapproving ones. I just glared right back. They knew what was up, and I prepared myself for smart comments and personal questions. There were none. Morrigan discretely handed me a cup of tea. She gave me the slightest of nods, letting me know what she had just given me. I smiled and thanked her quietly. I let the tea cool and downed it in one go, it tasted horrible, but a nasty cup of tea was a whole lot less of a nuisance than one of two remaining Grey Wardens being pregnant while trying to stop a Blight. One could only do so much, which did not include slaying a dragon somewhere in the third trimester.

Morrigan made some idle mention of treating my wounds, I guessed Wynne had interrogated her. I shared a secret look with Morrigan, she seemed a bit more relaxed than she had been before. I guessed that putting my trust in her had paid off. Even if she abused it a bit yesterday when she mentioned the contraceptive. But she was Morrigan after all, she wouldn’t be the same without that sharp tongue. It was part of her charm if I’m completely honest, I rather enjoyed her company. On top of that she was absolutely gorgeous, meaning she received a lot of unwanted attention which only served to sharpen her tongue more.

I took Morrigan aside for a moment.

“What do you wish of me?” she asked sweetly.  
I held out the black grimoire I found at the tower, “I found this yesterday, I would have given it to you sooner if I had known what it was.”

She slowly took the grimoire from me.

“It’s Flemeth’s grimoire,” she spoke softly, “I was wondering if it could be retrieved but I had yet to speak to you about it. What luck that you found it on your own, you have my thanks.”  
“You’re welcome,” I said with a smile.  
“I will begin study of the tome immediately, I will not squander an opportunity to learn more than Flemeth wished me to know,” Morrigan immediately started leafing through the grimoire and wandered off.

I watched her go. One thing I had noticed about Flemeth's hut in the Wilds, was that it held far too many books than a regular swamp hut had any right to. Books are found in the homes of the rich and in libraries, but not in swamp huts. The humidity alone... I wondered if it had been a shared collection or if it belonged entirely to Morrigan, who set to decoding the grimoire with such fervor that it suggested she had experience with this sort of thing. I wondered how much knowledge she had gained on her own by reading books, rather than whatever Flemeth had to teach. I'd have to ask her some time. 

* * *

After breakfast, we gathered our things and were on our way. I don’t know if Morrigan had anything to do with it, but our companions did not mention anything about Alistair and me emerging from the same room after spending the night together. Which suited me just fine. Redcliffe wasn’t far. We would make it there in a couple of days. I spoke briefly with Sten, who was stoic as ever.

Or so he thought, I had noticed his discomfort while we were at lake Calenhad. He had been restless, something I had not observed in him so far, although he wouldn’t tell me what it was about. The big Qunari stated that he had no use for my concern, I stated that I had no use for his sulking then.

My relationship with Sten was a difficult one. I had figured out that he preferred clear language, straight to the point. But there were a lot of Qunari values involved that I wasn’t aware of and I was stumbling in the dark. For example, he had trouble accepting me as a fighter because I was a woman. He said that Qunari women were either priests, artisans, or merchants. But never warriors.

While I was initially offended, I figured out that, to Sten, it wasn’t so much about gender, physical strength, childbirth and whatever other arguments I had thrown at me before by noblemen.

No, to Sten, it was about simply coming into existence without having any control over it. He reasoned that we were unable to choose the colour of our eyes, our hair, and so, we were unable to choose who we would become. A warrior might decide to become a merchant, but to Sten such a person would always remain a warrior turned merchant. He was extremely logical in some ways, and completely irrational in others. I was a woman and a fighter, so according to Sten, one of those things must not be true. He was convinced about the fighter part. But I wasn’t about to let him check if I was truly a woman. So I dropped the issue. Sten seemed fine with that.

And oddly enough, I think that this mangled wreck of a conversation relaxed him a bit. Perhaps all he needed was for someone to at least _try_ to understand ways of the Qun, even if it was difficult to grasp and even more so to pry it out of him. I guessed he must have felt the same about us and our human ways.

I overheard Zevran talking with Alistair, apparently Zevran felt the need to check what Alistair’s intentions were with me.

Alistair did not appreciate it, “what do you mean what are my ‘plans’ with her. I don’t see how that is any of your business.”  
“Rest easy my friend,” Zevran began, “I am simply concerned for her, she is our leader after all.”  
“I hear you speak of concern and good intentions, but that is not really what you mean, is it?” Alistair snapped back at Zevran.

“My, my, so defensive,” Morrigan chimed in, “one would almost think you feel threatened.”  
“I do not feel threatened, I am offended,” Alistair huffed.

“And what about you, my raven-haired beauty? You seem quite close to fair Fela over there. I’ve seen the looks you steal, a man’s imagination might start to… _run_ _wild_.”

I suppressed a fit of giggles. I did find Morrigan attractive but that was beside the point. I don’t think anyone had ever stunned Morrigan like Zevran just did.

“Your imagination will be better off focussing on ways to stay out of darkspawn claws,” she sneered.  
“For once we agree on something,” Alistair grunted at Morrigan and gave Zevran a dark look.

Zevran just sighed nonchalantly and lifted his hands up, “alright, say no more. I can rest easy knowing that our beloved leader has devoted protectors such as yourselves.”

He obviously felt he had won this argument.

While this conversation took place, Leliana was humming a soft tune, lost in thought. Wynne walked beside her, quietly listening.   
“I don’t think I know that song,” Wynne noted when Leliana finished.  
“It is not very well known. I came across it back in Orlais, I was a traveling minstrel. Songs and stories were my trade,” she explained.

“The song is about a man who loses everything he loves and loses himself in vengeance.”  
“A sad tale, and yet that tune did not sound so sad,” Wynne replied.  
“You’re right, the tune is calm and yet there is a melancholy in it. Strengthened by the words.” Leliana said in her soft Orlesian accent.  
“Will you sing it for us?” Wynne asked, and Leliana giggled self-consciously.  
“I could but the music and the words complement each other in such a way that I would need a lute to truly do it justice. But I will sing you the words if you like?”  
“Please,” Wynne said.

Leliana sang softly but her voice carried far enough for all to hear.

_Healing, holy man, once upon a time.  
He lived for his wife, up until the crime_

_Hunting high and low, to seek revenge.  
Brand-new moral code, got made reluctant renegade.  
Leaving empty souls, when he avenged.  
Evil spirits flowed, he drank the blood like lemonade._

_Cosy campfire crowd, with a case of wine.  
I’m feeling fine.  
Bounty hunter now, and it crossed the line.  
Crossed that line._

_Hunting high and low, to seek revenge.  
Brand-new moral code, got made reluctant renegade.  
Leaving empty souls, when he avenged.  
Evil spirits flowed, he drank the blood like lemonade. _

_In the border town, down in Mexico  
They let him go.  
Law and order now, cause he runs the show.  
So now you know._

_Hunting high and low, exact revenge.  
Brand-new moral code, got made reluctant renegade.  
Leaving empty souls, when he avenged.  
Evil spirits flowed, he drank the blood like lemonade. _

_Hunting high and low, exact revenge.  
Brand-new moral code, got made reluctant renegade.  
Leaving empty souls, when he avenged.  
Evil spirits flowed, he drank the blood like lemonade. _

_He drank the blood like lemonade._

_He drank the blood like lemonade._

_He drank the blood like lemonade._

I have to admit I was a little disturbed by how that song applied to me. Leliana never did anything without a reason. I wondered if it was her intention for me to hear this, and what her play was. Alistair and I _did_ get made reluctant renegades, curtesy of Loghain. He had to go and declare any surviving Grey Wardens traitors, put bounties on our heads, and send assassins after us. And I did have a few bones to pick with the man. Also, I did have to adjust my moral code quite a bit after I became a Grey Warden. Not to mention the ‘evil spirits’ we were fighting and my lust for revenge on Rendon Howe.

I looked back at Leliana, but she expertly avoided my gaze. Sneaky little wench, she was always playing some sort of game. But I liked her, and she was useful. Besides, I didn’t mind playing the occasional game with her, it kept me sharp. I decided to wait until I could get her alone, but not make a point of seeking her out.

We didn’t run into any darkspawn that day, or any other fights for that matter. Lucky me, I wasn’t about to start swinging swords around just yet. My back was still killing me. Eventually we stopped for camp. After setting up my tent, I asked Morrigan to come and help me get the numbing poultice on. She gracefully agreed.

“You’ve been smiling,” Morrigan began as she helped me out of my shirt, “most of the day in fact.” She started to undo my bandages and I grinned like a simpleton. “Whatever that oaf has been doing to you, it must be good,” she noted.  
“Oh, you have no idea,” I chuckled as I lay down on my stomach.  
“It’s _that_ good? Well, it’s good to see you smile more,” Morrigan said as she started cleaning my wounds.  
“Thank you Morrigan, it’s nice to hear you say that,” I said while staring at the tent flap.

“So what did you think of Leliana’s song today?” I asked Morrigan, I knew she was frowning without looking up.  
“I don’t see where you are going with this line of questioning,” she said hesitantly.  
“Hunting high and low to seek revenge? Brand-new moral code, got made reluctant renegade? Do those lines not make you wonder what she is playing at?”

“You think it was meant for you and Alistair? As the only surviving Grey Wardens? I must say, Leliana is a devious one, but what could she possibly hope to achieve by singing you a song?” Morrigan replied dryly as she was finishing up with the numbing poultice.

“My thoughts exactly, Leliana isn’t the kind of person who does something just for the heck of it.”  
Morrigan hummed at that, “you are wondering about her motives, not unwise, considering her background.”

I sat up and let her wrap the bandage around my torso again. “You’ve already started to heal, you should be back in proper fighting condition soon,” Morrigan said as she fastened the bandage and helped me pull my shirt over my head. “You know, the elf is bound to have some clever remarks,” she added.

I chuckled, “I’m counting on it. If he insists on trying to flirt with me, I will have to torture him. Simply telling him to stop doesn’t work.”  
Morrigan gave me a slight grin, “while I may approve of your intention to torture the salacious assassin, I don’t recall agreeing to be part of any such schemes. I suggest Alistair and you make even more noise next time. In camp he should be able to hear it anywhere.”  
I laughed, “only if you promise to make sure he doesn’t spy on us, that seems like something he would do.”  
“Not a chance, you are on your own for that.”

Sure enough, Zevran was grinning from ear to ear when we crawled out of my tent and Alistair was glaring at Zevran with murder in his eyes.

“Come now, you must wonder about this too, yes?” I heard Zevran say, “don’t tell me you don’t wish to know what goes on in that tent when Fela’s shirt comes off.”

Yep, as expected, Zevran took the bait.

“Perhaps you should ask her then,” Alistair said and he greeted me with a smile.  
“Do you really want to find out what happens once you do?” I asked Zevran with a flat look.  
He smiled a broad smile, “some things are best left to fantasy, don’t you agree?” he said. A retreat while saving face, let’s call it progress.

Morrigan ignored the three of us, soon she was lost in the grimoire I had given her. Leafing through it while she was still able to read by daylight. Zevran left to help Leliana with dinner preparations, Wynne was busy building a fire, and Sten was off somewhere playing fetch with Asher I guessed. That gave me a moment of rest, a whole day of walking with a severe injury had worn me out.

I sat down close to the fire Wynne had built and just stared into it. I pulled my cloak a little closer around myself as I let myself get lost in thought. The tower of Magi was secure, they had lost most of their numbers, but we had their support. They had a lot of rebuilding to do. Certainly, there would be very few mages available when the time came. They were powerful of course, and depending on how they were positioned, even a handful of mages could cause serious damage. Not to mention healing and support magic. It was something, but it wouldn’t make a dent in the darkspawn horde. That made the other two treaties that much more important. I had been counting on the Circle of Magi as a powerful ally, unfortunately reality did not live up to my expectations. Now we were en route to Redcliffe, we would arrive there in a couple of days. I hoped Arl Eamon could be as much help as Alistair seemed to believe. But to be honest, I wasn’t counting on it. Not because I doubted Alistair’s word, but because things never go the way you planned it. What happened at the tower of Magi was a huge setback. Or rather, it didn’t result in as many capable mages as I had hoped and the cost was far greater than expected. Either way, Redcliffe was next on our list.

Alistair sat down next to me, “you’re staring into the fire, that can only mean one thing.”  
“Deep thought and contemplation?” I offered.  
“Worry, you’re worried about something. Tell me what’s going on,” he said, sounding patient and at the same time determined.

“The tower of Magi… I’m glad we could help and all that… But they’ve lost most of their more experienced members. What we walked into was a worst-case scenario. A tower full of monsters and corpses with very few survivors,” I began.  
“Right, you called it an abysmal freakshow,” Alistair said, and I saw Wynne shoot me a disapproving look.  
“Yes, well, it was worth it. Even if we had only saved a single life it would have been worth it. But we need more than a handful of mages to defeat this Blight…”  
“We still have the other two treaties. And hopefully, we find Arl Eamon soon,” Alistair offered.

“I know. One of those treaties however, binds the Dalish elves to the Grey Wardens. You studied history, you know we humans fucked the elves over big time. They don’t want to be found, we don’t even know for sure where they are. And some clans are known to be hostile towards outsiders. The other treaty is for the dwarves of Orzammar, and I have no idea what to expect there. They are formidable warriors, but they live underground _with_ the darkspawn. They have battled the creatures for centuries. A Blight on the surface is not going to seem very urgent to them.”

Alistair remained quiet for a moment.

“Do you regret asking me what I was thinking about yet?” I asked Alistair with a wan smile.  
“No, I am just thinking about what you said,” he replied.  
“And what are you thinking?” I asked, I wanted to hear his input.  
“I’m thinking that the dwarves of Orzammar have a lot of respect for the Grey Wardens, and they might be more willing to help than you are assuming. I also think we should stick to our plan and worry about the Dalish last. Along the way, we might find more information, gather more allies to help. One of which, I’m assuming is Arl Eamon. And I know him to be a political and organisational genius, who would never stand by after what Loghain did,” Alistair finished.

I smiled at Alistair, he made some good points. But I worried it still wouldn’t be enough. We would need all of Ferelden to fight the Blight, and it was currently on the brink of civil war.

“Let’s just take it one step at a time, and don’t forget we have the support of the Circle of Magi, that is not nothing,” Alistair said, while putting a hand on my arm.  
“You’re right, thank you,” I leaned against him. Our entire party was already aware we had been sleeping together anyway, why bother hiding it.

I had noticed Wynne had been listening to our conversation, but she made no attempt to add anything to the discussion. She just stared into the flames like I did. It was becoming an epidemic. Morrigan had been so absorbed by the grimoire, I doubted she had listened to a single word of our conversation. I looked around camp, seeing everyone going about business as usual, and sighed.

I wondered if we were all just stark-raving-mad and just happened to have found each other. I was still having trouble coming to terms with our quest. The rational part of my brain kept screaming it was madness, that we would never succeed. Another part that concerned itself with survival was screaming at me that I needed to run, run away, hide, and let the Blight sort itself out. And then there was a third, sort of rebellious part of my brain that had completely dismissed all risks and odds against us, it told me; _'what the hell, it’s something to do, you’re going to die anyway.'_ And a fourth that basically said; _'fuck this, fuck that, fuck you, fuck the Archdemon, and fuck the fucking Blight!'_

And it was these last two parts that I had been listening to lately. They simply refused to accept defeat out of sheer stubbornness. But those parts were also a little reckless, impulsive, and angry. Perhaps not the best inner voices to be listening to. But I chose to anyway, reason and survival weren’t helping at the moment.

We went on about our business as usual, we had dinner, divided the watch, engaged in idle conversation, and maintained our weapons and armour. I decided to retreat early, I was exhausted from pain and worrying. Asher padded behind me, ready to watch over me again. Then I stopped.

“Alistair?”  
“Yes?”  
“Why don’t you join me, Asher could help you sleep too.” I looked around the camp, ready to snap at the first smart comment. Morrigan didn’t bother looking up from the grimoire, but the others were staring at me. Leliana and Zevran with a smirk, Wynne with a stern grandmotherly look. It was Sten, however, who spoke.

Much to my surprise, he said, “it’s important you are well rested.”

And with that, he went back to sharpening his blade. I looked at him with raised eyebrows. He basically just said; go for it. Settling the tension and preventing others from responding opposingly. They tended to go to great lengths to stay out of a discussion with the large Qunari. Maybe I had been doing something right with him then, point for Sten. Alistair nodded, got his bedroll from his tent and followed me.

“You know, I am really starting to warm up to Sten,” Alistair said quietly as we entered my tent.  
“I can’t help but wonder if he wasn’t just being practical though,” I replied while taking off my boots.  
“You’ve been making an effort to build a relationship with him, he might just appreciate it. I mean, I’ve been talking to him myself. And he keeps surprising me with these rigid Qunari customs. To him, we are just as weird as he is to us. But he is alone, and we’re not. Your efforts to understand him a bit better might mean more to him than you realise,” Alistair said, I smiled to myself, planted a soft kiss on his cheek and crawled under my blanket.

Asher lay at the back of my tent, so he was close to our faces and hands in case he needed to wake us.

“Are you gonna watch over Alistair too tonight, buddy?” Asher wagged his tail and looked at me with intelligent eyes. “Good boy, watch for the same signs as with me, alright?” He gave a low gruff, not quite a bark but not a sigh either. I stroked Asher’s head, “good boy, you’re the best dog in the world.” He wagged his tail a little more vigorously and licked my hand. Alistair put his bedroll down next to mine and positioned himself alongside me.

Alistair stroked my cheek, “how is your back?” he asked.  
“It’s ok right now, but walking all day didn’t exactly help. Morrigan says it looks good though, and so did you. I’ll be fine.” Alistair smiled at me.  
“So how _are_ Morrigan’s bedside manners?” he asked.  
“Zevran got in your head didn’t he,” I looked at him with a smirk.  
“What? She is my least favourite person but I’m not blind. Two beautiful women in a tent, one naked from the waist up?”  
I laughed quietly, “you’re terrible, you know, I would never do anything like that without you,” I gave Alistair a wicked smile and watched his eyes grow wide.

“You mean… you mean you _would_ do something like that?”  
“Maybe I already did,” a sinful smile played around my lips. Alistair looked at me in disbelief.

“You… had sex... with, another woman?”  
I nodded, “It happened before we met.”  
Alistair chuckled, “you’re full of surprises.” “Do you want me to tell you about it?”  
“Yes, please,” Alistair nodded eagerly.

“Remember I told you my mother paraded me around a lot?” I asked.  
“Yes, I remember.”  
“Part of being paraded around was attending balls and parties. That’s how I met Alissa.”  
“Hmm, Alissa, good name.” I chuckled again.

“You’re just saying that because it sounds a little like ‘Alistair’. Anyway, she came from a very successful family of merchants. She had travelled a lot, and she had a lot of interesting stories to tell. I enjoyed spending time with her, and sought her out every chance I had.”  
“What did she look like?” Alistair asked, making me giggle girlishly.

“She was tanned, her skin was the colour of dark honey. Alissa spent a lot of time at sea, sailing. She had big blue eyes, and long golden hair. Exactly the opposite of what you would expect of a captain of a ship, she looked like an angel. She was lean, but curved. Radiant and powerful, her mere presence demanded respect. I was infatuated with her, she did as she pleased, unhindered by titles or duty. She was a capable duellist too. I looked up to her.”

“And she liked young shapely women with dark hair and dark eyes,” Alistair added.  
I blushed and giggled again, “yes, apparently I was… her type.”  
“Oh this is perfect, tell me she was a few years older than you too,” he asked eagerly.  
“Yeah, actually. She was 24, I was 18.” “Young and inexperienced?”  
“Young, yes. Inexperienced, not so much.”  
Alistair chuckled, “right, ser Gilmore.”  
I blushed, “he wasn’t the only one. I didn’t exactly lose my… appetite… after he was sent away, I just became more discreet about it. I wasn’t going to let my parents stop me. And not _every_ guy I met was a tool.”  
Alistair chuckled, “I suspected as much, knowing you like I do. But you were inexperienced when it came to sleeping with other women right?”  
“Yes, when it came to sleeping with women, I was inexperienced.”

“How did you get together?” Alistair asked.  
“You’re enjoying this far too much, Alistair.”  
“Am I, though?”  
“Alright,” I whispered as I kissed him, “I’ll tell you, it was after a very boring party. Alissa and I had gone back to the inn where she was staying because of a minstrel that she wanted to see perform. I have never heard anyone who played the lute like he did, he was the best I had ever heard. We danced, laughed, drank, we just were doing what rich Ladies do for fun really. We had grown rather close. I’ve always known I liked men, but when I hit puberty, I started to look at women too. And then there was Alissa, beautiful, experienced, bold. She made no secret of her sexuality, she liked men and women both, and was fairly forward about it. Anyway, dancing with her… is what got me going I think. She asked me up to her room by the end of the night, for a nightcap. We had done so many times before, but this time was different. I knew what she was asking, and I readily agreed.”

“So you got up to her room, then what?” Alistair asked.  
“She kissed me, like this,” I put my hand gently on Alistair’s neck and gently ran my fingers along his jawline before kissing him delicately and tenderly.  
“Hmm, tell me more. And keep showing me,” he responded, while gently stroking my shoulder.

“We spent quite some time kissing before she asked me to join her in bed, she was very… gallant, about it. She was guiding me, making sure it was what I wanted. But to be honest, I was more than willing to join her in bed, just a little uncertain of what to do.”  
“So what did you do?”  
“I figured I should do what I would like her to do to me.”

“Show me,” Alistair asked and I smirked.

“I would but you lack some of the proper parts, like breasts.”  
“Just show me.”

I moved over to kiss his neck down to the spot where his neck became his shoulder, and gently bit him in between kisses. I ran my hands over his stomach, up to his chest.

“I kissed her breasts like this,” moving my mouth across his chest, I refrained from kneading him, I just held my hands where they were before running them down to his waist and kissing his stomach. Slowly I moved my hands down to his hips and stopped.

“Does that give you a proper mental image of what we did?” I asked sweetly.  
“Hmm, yes,” he moaned, running his fingers through my hair.  
“Feel free continue fantasizing,” I whispered as leaned down to remove his smalls.

I wrapped my hand around him and moved it slowly up and down as I licked his tip. I teased his lower abdomen with my fingernails, making him shiver. I slowly took him into my mouth, wetting him with my tongue, inch by inch. to slide my lips down his shaft. I took my sweet time, savouring his every response. Every twitch of muscle, every breath, the taste of pre-cum. 

He reached down to me and pulled me up, “why don’t you let me show you what I imagine she did to you?” he whispered and gently rolled me onto my back. He acted out his fantasy with a passion.

I grinned, I was going to destroy the Chantry’s influence on him. Not that I’m particularly opposed to the whole Chantry thing, but they have some messed up views about sexuality. And I preferred to keep the Chantry out of my bed.

Finally Alistair reached my lower abdomen, he used his teeth to tug at my panties. I lifted my hips so he could take them off. He slowly kissed the line where my leg met my torso while teasing me with his fingers. I suppressed a loud moan when his tongue found my most sensitive spot. I took hold of the hair on the back of his head, “enough with the Alissa fantasy, I want you, _now,_ ” I whispered.

Alistair complied, moving to lie on top of me. But he moved agonizingly slow, making me wait. I grabbed at him to make him go faster but he was unphased by my attempts. I felt his tongue on the tops of my breasts, slowly moving up my throat before kissing me. Pouring all of his lust into the kiss and smoothly entering me with one movement.

“Is that what you wanted?” his breath felt hot on my ear, sending shivers down my spine.  
“Yes! _God_ , yes!” I whispered back and he started moving his hips in a deliciously slow rhythm.

I moved with him in, my body moving on its own as we kept a steady rhythm. I savoured every stroke, feeling my pussy clamp down on him as if to keep him there. He kissed me again, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to consume me. I revelled in it, grasping at the muscles in his back, digging my fingers into his skin and kissing him back like I wanted to draw his breath from his lips. He groaned into my mouth, thrusting into me harder. I matched him, rolling my hips to increase the friction against my inner walls where his cock pressed against them. He moved faster as our pleasure build, breaking the kiss and burrying his face in my neck instead. I kept matching him, just as desperate for more as he was.

We rolled over so I could be on top. I rode him in the same rhythm as before, hands planted on his chest and my head thrown back. His hands grasped my hips firmly as he kept thrusting up. I leaned down on him, claiming his lips in a demanding kiss. He returned the kiss wil zeal, breathing hard through his nose so he wouldn't have to break it and tangling his fingers in my hair. I had to pull back sooner than I wanted to, but I had to breathe. I slowly increased the intensity of my movements until I was slamming myself down on him, and Alistair matched every move I made.

I am not ashamed to say that I was reduced to a pussy in that moment. Not the cowardly kind, but the bodypart. Everyting thing else was forgotten, the sensations in my body blocking out any thought I might have had to spare. That familiar delicious tension started to build again, slowly spreading while my muscles pulled tight. Heat coiled in my centre as I passed the point of no return. I cried out when I went over the edge, completely forgetting that a tent did not block out much sound. Waves of release washed over me, I rode them as Alistair reached his own orgasm. I could feel the hot spurts of seed inside me as he pulsed and throbbed. Perfect timing as always, maybe that Templar training with its obsessive discipline was good for something more than killing and oppressing things.

I lay on top of Alistair, catching my breath.

“You know they probably heard that, right?” Alistair finally managed to whisper.  
“Screw ‘em,” I panted, “they’re going to talk anyway. Might as well give them something to talk about.”  
I felt Alistair’s smile against my cheek, “have I told you what a rare and wonderful thing you are amidst all this darkness?” I kissed him again, long and slowly.  
“Do not underestimate your own influence on me,” I whispered.  
Alistair grinned mischievously, “my influence had nothing to do with your relationship with Alissa, or your other appetites, that was all you.”  
“Well, you do tend to bring out that particular side of me,” I whispered with a grin as I rolled off and settled myself against him, my head on his shoulder.

“I just happen to know what I like,” I added, ready to drift off to sleep.  
“So you like women as well as men?”  
I nodded, “I suppose I do, but I’ve favoured men.”  
“Why?”  
I shrugged, “easy answer; I like dick.”

Alistair burst out laughing at my blunt statement.

“Wow,” Alistair said, waves of laughter still washing through him, “you really don’t beat around the bush. You have no problem being forward about what you like, I suspect it’s how you drive the people around you mad. You realise most men would be at your feet, right? If you allowed them.”  
I groaned, “you’re making me sound like a man-eater.”  
“A what?”  
“A man-eater, women who leave trails of broken hearts and sobbing young men for their own pleasure. I don’t like thinking of myself as someone with that particular effect on those around me,” I explained.

Alistair shook his head, “that’s not what I meant. You are naturally attractive, but in more ways than just a romantic one. You’re intelligent, well-spoken, you are the kind of person people look to when they need guidance. By just being who you are, you bring out the best in those around you. Look at Morrigan, since you’ve become friendly with her she has actually been a bit nicer. Meaning she has been less of a stone-cold bitch, but I'll take whatever I can get. And even though I can’t stand her, I wouldn’t want to miss her in a battle. It’s clear we hate each other but she still has my back because of you. And Sten, I don’t think many people are capable of forming working-relationships with family slaughtering Qunari. Now he is helping to stop the Blight, to right some of his wrongs. He was ready to die in that cage you know, don’t let that stone façade fool you. You gave him a second chance, you’re even making an effort to get to know him even though it’s a hell of a challenge for both of you. The same is true for Zevran. You’ve allowed him to live, even accepted his help. You put up with his endless flirtations, even though you don’t like it. But you accept the guy for who he is, do you realise you have given him freedom? From the Crows at least, and honestly I think that he could have been gone over a hundred times if he had wanted to. Yet, he chooses to stay and I’m certain that’s because of you. And not just because he is hoping to get in your pants. Each and every one of our companions is here by choice, for you.” 

I had no words, I was afraid to believe I had truly made so much of a difference. Afraid to let it go to my head, afraid to be proud of what we had accomplished. Even if it was only little compared to our main goal.

“Honestly, I feel like I have been stumbling around in the dark,” I finally managed.  
“All great leaders do, take it from someone who studied history. Each and every hero or great leader, that has been written down in history, suffers a form of writers-propaganda. No one ever wrote about their self-doubt, their fuck-ups, spending days on the road covered in blood and guts, smelling like a slaughterhouse, how they had to shit in the woods each day. They don’t write about the people those leaders and heroes really were. They were just people, Fela, like you.”

Shyness had me in a choke-hold, I could barely look Alistair in the eyes. The compliment was too big.

“I-… Thanks… A-as you may have noticed, I am having trouble gracefully accepting such a compliment,” my training in etiquette kicked in, giving me a mask to hide behind, even though it was a ridiculous mask, “I am humbled to know you think so highly of me.”  
Alistair laughed at me again, “You’re so shy! Wow, you really have trouble receiving a compliment don’t you? I thought you were used to flattery,” he grinned at me.  
“Lady Fela Cousland is used to flattery, hence her brief appearance. But you didn’t address me as her, so pardon my genuine response.” The Lady hadn’t left me completely yet.  
Alistair grinned wickedly, “alright, sorry for being honest. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I respect you. I’d hate for you to feel embarrassed by that.”

That earned him a chuckle and a smile, “no, no. You don’t get to take it back now. You think I’m a great leader, I’m not going to let you get away so easily without a little fun.” The Lady had taken her leave, and Alistair saw it.  
“There she is, the bloodthirsty, dual-wielding, silver-tongued devil. The Lady Fela Cousland has nothing on you.”  
I smiled wider, “and what of you? My anchor, my partner, and my lover. What would the historians write of you?”  
“Probably just that I was some random guy lucky enough to tag along,” he said hopefully.  
“I doubt it,” I whispered, and kissed him, “they have to at least make mention of how you got corrupted by me. I’ll make them, just to stick it to the Chantry,” I said playfully and rolled around on my side. Alistair chuckled and settled himself behind me. We chatted idly before falling asleep.

* * *

We didn’t sleep for very long, obviously part of a Grey Warden’s job-description was that sleep-deprivation was mandatory. But we had to get up for our watch anyway. Zevran and Sten would relieve us early in the morning but we tended to stay awake anyway. Asher had been a great help, gently nudging us when he sensed distress, keeping us away from the nightmares. Our current sleeping arrangement was a major improvement if you ask me. Having Alistair warm my bed meant we could calm each other down after a particularly nasty nightmare. And that made it easier to go back to sleep. 

Our watch was uneventful. Thankfully. We spend it as we always did, staring into the fire and chatting away time and bad dreams. When morning came, I decided I wanted to try sparring after my treatment with the healing poultice. Nothing serious, no rolling around on the ground in headlocks. Alistair was a great help, guiding me while I explored how far I could go with light stretching exercises. Should we get into a fight, I’d rather know what I could and could not do. Adrenaline would likely kick in and cause me to push further but at least it gave me some inclination of how far I could push myself.

I had lost a lot of blood when I sustained the injury, so I was still feeling a little frail. But my strength would return as my body made new blood to replace what I had lost. Alistair advised me to eat and drink a little more often than usual, since my body needed sustenance during this process. The wounds themselves weren’t half bad thanks to the numbing poultice, but I did feel the occasional tug and burn. I stuck to tactics that didn’t require a lot of reach, keeping my arms close to my body to prevent the wounds from reopening. I also decided to avoid battle for now, unless it was unavoidable. My companions would defend me. Sten actually offered to watch out for me in case we got into a fight. I thanked the big Qunari with a broad smile, which he almost returned.

So close.


	12. Empathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela makes a break-through in befriending Sten. Alistair has observed something very particular about Fela and shares his ideas. Wynne tells Fela more about her life before the Circle Tower, and Fela and Leliana plot murder.

I decided to try and have a chat with Sten again, I had been watching him. And he just didn’t strike me as a guy who would murder a family of eight without a damn good reason. He had revealed himself to be a bit of a softy, playing with Asher like he did. So I decided to ask him, he was not afraid to tell me when he didn’t want to talk about something anyway.

“Sten, there has been something I’ve been meaning to ask you,”   
“I am hardly surprised.”   
“Of course you’re not. Anyway, you told me you were in that cage because you killed a family of farmers. But you never explained why you did that. And I don’t presume to know you, but you just don’t seem like a person who would do that.”   
“Ask me your question then.”   
“Why did you murder that family?” I asked, looking him straight in the eye.

“There is no easy answer to that question, I expect you could not understand,” he said in his harsh monotone voice, but it was more than the usual ‘no’ when he didn’t want to tell me something.   
“Try me,” I told him and waited for him to speak.   
“I did not come alone to this land. I was with seven of my brothers, of the Bereshaad. We had come to investigate the Blight, by order of the Arishok. We were traveling south, to Ostagar,” he began, pausing as if he wasn’t sure how much to tell me about his assignment.

“Go on,” I encouraged.   
“We were camped on the east coast of Lake Calenhad, at night, the darkspawn came upon us. They came from the ground, from the sky. They had surrounded us and were attacking from all sides. My brothers fell, I saw the last of the darkspawn fall but I was too late. I fell. I don’t know how long I lay among the dead on the battlefield. I woke up to a family of farmers who had rescued me.”

“And then?”   
“I killed them.”   
“Come on, Sten. I know you didn’t kill them for rescuing you. You would have killed us a hundred times if something like that set you off,” I gave him a stern look, no way I was going to let him get away this time.

“When I awoke, I was missing my sword. So I asked the farmers, they told me they found no sword with me on the battlefield. I knew they were telling the truth.”   
“Ok, explain to me why the sword is important,” we were getting somewhere now, I could smell some rigid Qunari custom coming up.

“The sword was forged for my hand and my hand alone. No Qunari warrior would part with his sword, it would be the greatest crime. That is why I cannot go home. Even if I made it through several countries unarmed, I would be killed on sight. I am a deserter, that sword is my soul. I have lost my honour, and cannot be allowed to live.” For the first time I saw what an ashamed Qunari looks like. And honestly, I kind of felt like I needed to comfort him. Sten actually kind of looked like he needed a hug.

“So it was losing your sword that set you off. To you it is not just a sword, it is your soul, justification for your existence. You didn’t lose only that, you also lost your home. And your brethren.” Sten looked at me intensely, I so hoped I had gotten that right and not just insulted him in the worst way.

“You surprise me. I did not expect understanding from your kind,” he spoke softly.   
“Well, a lot of my kind are dicks anyway. Most of them I think,” I said, hoping to cheer him up a bit. It didn’t.

“So did you look for your sword?” I asked.   
“Yes, when we returned to Calenhad. It was not there.”

So _that’s_ why he had seemed tense, he was sneaking off to find his sword but couldn’t find it.

“Did you try to find information? Anything that might tell you where it’s gone?” I asked.   
“Yes, a scavenger told me he sold eight Qunari swords to a merchant in Orzammar.”   
My eyes widened, “Sten! That’s good! Now we have a trail to track down your sword!”   
He looked back at me with even wider eyes, “ _We_ are going to track down my sword?” he asked.   
“Yes, of course! My swords may not mean as much to me as yours does to you. But I do think I understand, to some degree at least. Take it from someone who lost her home and family too recently. I think I understand enough to realise you _absolutely_ need to get that sword back. When we get to Orzammar, I will search out this merchant. Did you get a name?”

I had rendered Sten speechless. Alistair was right, me making an effort for him was a huge deal to Sten.

“Faryn,” Sten finally said, “and Warden,”   
“Yes?”   
“Thank you.”   
“Any time Sten, you’re one of us, remember that.”

I swear if anyone had told me that I would make a huge, scary, Qunari warrior cry, I would have laughed in their face. But I swear to the Maker, I think I saw him wipe a quick tear away. I decided to keep that to myself. I understood enough about Sten to know that much.

We encountered darkspawn later that day, and Sten was, in one word, formidable. He defended me like I was all that mattered in the world, Alistair and Asher by his side. Morrigan, Leliana, Zevran, Wynne, all of them. They were fighting for me, not to survive, but to protect me. It occurred to me then, I was loved. I had found a new family. It made me chuckle amidst the limbs, corpses, and blood, I probably looked like a maniac. But there it was. Barely a few weeks after losing my family and home, I had found a new one. It immediately filled me with guilt towards my parents, Fergus, Oriana and Orren. I had not forgotten them, I had vowed to kill Rendon Howe, slowly. And I sure as hell was going to, first chance I got. But there was the Blight too. And these people fighting so fiercely for me, they were my family too now. I wanted a better future for them, I wanted to stop the Blight for them. So they could live, and thrive. My mother’s words echoed in my mind, ' _go now my daughter, go and live.'_

* * *

When we settled down to make camp, Leliana approached me.

“How are you holding up?” she asked as she sat down next to me.   
“I’m alright, a bit sore but fine otherwise.”   
She looked at me and raised an eyebrow, “are you?” she asked.

_All right, I guess this is where we have our chat._

“Yeah actually. The pain is not so bad anymore,” I assured her.   
“Truly? Your recovery is remarkably fast,” she countered.   
“It’s a Grey Warden thing I think. Having a very specific purpose to give you direction helps you forget about your wounds.”   
“Even when you lay down to rest?” she asked and I shook my head.   
“Not completely no, an unoccupied mind tends to wander. Luckily you people keep me quite busy. Alistair in particular,” I said with a smile.   
“He does know a lot about injury and recovery, doesn’t he,” Leliana said.

“Leliana,” I began, “I am enjoying our ambiguous conversation but if you’re trying to make a point, I would ask you speak clearly,” I said.   
“It occurs to me, that you might soon get a chance to get close to Rendon Howe,” she said.   
“How so?”   
“Because we will have to go to Denerim at some point.”   
“Very likely, yes. Why is this on your mind?”

“Because I see murder in your eyes every time you speak Howe’s name. And I believe you would stab him at the first opportunity you get,” she explained.   
“And this worries you,” I said, looking at her inquisitively, “why?” Where was she going with this? If she thought for a moment that I was going to let that rat live, she was wrong.   
“Because I want you to exact your revenge just right,” she said with a hard look in her eyes.   
“You’re going to have to explain what you mean by that,” I replied.

“Men like Rendon Howe, they are difficult to kill. He will likely have some kind of contingency plan in place, he is surely aware that you live. And aware of the threat you made to Loghain. He knows you will come for him, so if he is going to willingly expose himself to you, you should be wary. You threaten Loghain’s power, and Howe’s life. You believe you will need more than those treaties we have been after. And you know why you cannot kill Howe. Not straight away.”

I sighed, “we will have to get politically involved at some point, yes. I believe we can only stop this Blight if all of Ferelden stands with us. And I cannot afford to kill a nobleman in cold blood right there at court. I need to avoid civil war, which I'm pretty sure has already broken loose by the way, and get to Howe without harming my own position. Which is fragile as it is, as I am currently a fugitive. We are going to play the game.”

Leliana’s face lit up as she heard me speak the words. Playing the game, even the prospect of it, excited her. I suppose it was natural for her to be excited at the opportunity to use her particular skillset.

“I assume you have given this thought, I’d like to hear what you have in mind,” I said, and I waited for her to speak.   
“It is likely that Loghain will use Howe to provoke you, he will want to bait you into harming your own position. You are an outlaw, one that speaks against Loghain and accuses him of betrayal. He will have a head start on a campaign against you, the nobility will be biased. He will claim your actions will make Ferelden more vulnerable to a Blight, and he will blame you for civil war once it's acknowledged. We need to get ahead of him.”

I nodded, I had gotten that far by myself at least.

“You’re thinking of Arl Eamon,” I said.   
“Yes, he is influential enough to give Loghain pause. And we have Alistair,” she said.   
“He is confident the Arl will stand with us,” I replied.

No way I was going to let her goad me into revealing Alistair’s heritage. That information was not mine to give.

“So am I, he can help us gather information, find potential allies. This will be as important to the Arl as it is to us. Loghain will not let the Arl slander him without retribution,” Leliana replied.   
“My thoughts exactly. But that means Howe gets to enjoy a few more days to live. I am not inclined to extend such curtesy,” I spoke the words carefully, like they were venom dripping down my lips.   
“Naturally,” Leliana said, “that is why I wanted to ask you to let me handle him until the time is just right.” I looked at Leliana in disbelief, but she was dead serious.

“Leliana, I don’t mean to offend. But is this really how you pictured yourself helping me? Plot a political murder? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the offer and I’m inclined to accept. But is this what you want? You told me you left your old life behind when you joined the Chantry, why pick up where you left off now?”

I was genuinely curious, an Orlesian bard, turned Chantry-sister, joins renegade Grey Wardens on an impossible quest, and is offering to help me assassinate a political figure while also strengthening my own political position.

“I did not leave Orlais because I disliked the life, the secrets of court, or the games we played. I feel this task is best suited for my talents, you are a fine killer Fela, but these things are more delicate than our usual encounters. Let me do this for you, you _will_ be the one to kill him. I’ll make sure of it. And I will make sure it serves our cause. In this way, I will help you to the best of my abilities.” 

I was still having trouble processing what she was offering, it would allow me to let go of some of the worries surrounding Howe. My hatred for the man went beyond anything rational, the desire in me to make him suffer was so strong it almost hurt. I wanted to destroy him. I trusted Leliana to be more than capable, an incapable bard does not survive for very long. If I was going to give in to my bloodlust, I might as well do it right.

“Thank you, Leliana. I accept your offer. If I may, I do have some requests. Call them personal indulgences.” Leliana smiled broadly and menacingly.  
“Of course,” she said.

I paused before I spoke. I was about to speak out loud what I wanted to do to Howe, and I didn’t want to sound like a psychopath.

“I want his death to be painful. I want to be able to take my time to look into his eyes as he realizes he will die. I want to see the life drain out of him. I was thinking a gut wound would make for a nice, _slow_ way to die. I know my father did.”   
Leliana simply nodded politely, “it will be so,” she said and left to set up her tent.

Alistair had just finished setting up mine and came to join me.

“Girl talk?” he asked as he sat down next to me. I snorted in a most unladylike manner.   
“Yes, that was my version of ‘girl talk’. Plotting to murder Rendon Howe.” I couldn’t keep the hatred out of my voice, I felt like I spontaneously caught on fire. Alistair looked at me, slightly taken aback.

“You’re going to have to elaborate. But while you do that, how about I take care of your wounds. You’re probably in pain again by now.”

The fire simmered down, I _was_ in pain and tired. I gave Alistair a tired smile, “yes, great idea. You’re joining me again tonight right?” I asked innocently.   
“Of course, I slept better last night than I have since my Joining. And not just because of Asher,” he kissed me and helped me up.   
“I’m sure you had sweet dreams,” I whispered in his ear. And he grinned boyishly.

After we entered my tent, Alistair helped me out of my shirt, and removed my bandages. As I lay down on my stomach, Alistair asked after my conversation with Leliana again.

“So what’s all this about murdering Rendon Howe?”

“Yes, where do I start. You’ve talked to Leliana right? About her life before the Chantry?”   
“I have,” Alistair said.   
“Well, she was not just a traveling minstrel, she was a bard. She explained that the difference is in the job description. Depending on who employs the bard, that might involve spying, stealing, even killing. And you know Orlais is famous for its deadly courtly climate.”

Alistair listened attentively while he cleaned my wounds.

“Leliana is very experienced when it comes to ‘the game’. We will have to become politically involved at some point, I don’t believe the treaties will be enough to raise a sufficient army. We will need all of Ferelden. Because of Loghain, that is not going to be an easy task. A civil war is brewing, and it will be that much harder to defend a land that has torn itself apart. Simply killing Rendon Howe is out of the question. Right now we are fugitives, renegade Grey Wardens, and we are accusing Loghain of betrayal while he can take his sweet time discrediting us among the nobility. Loghain must die. But we need the nobility behind us, we cannot be seen as rebels and opportunists. Howe, however, is in dire need of murdering. Leliana will use her skills to manipulate the court, she will make sure I get my vengeance. We’re going to play a game, before I kill Howe.”

It was a lengthy explanation, but it was necessary. Alistair took a moment to take it all in, moving on to the numbing poultice.

“You’re talking about some serious plotting and scheming,” he began.   
“I know,” I said, “which is exactly why I put Leliana on it.”   
“Are you sure about this? I understand you want Howe dead, I know _I_ do. But this is a slippery slope, you’re plotting a murder on a nobleman. That’s a whole different game. You intent to manipulate him into a position that allows you to get away with it.”

He caught on quick.

“Yes, exactly. Because just straight up seeking him out and gutting him will only undermine our most important goal, but so does leaving him alive. And this goes beyond personal, you know this.” I was surprised at how matter-of-factly I sounded, “I plan to do the same to Loghain.”

That changed Alistair’s tune, “I look forward to it,” he said, his voice was like iron. I looked back at Alistair, I saw grim satisfaction.

I got up to let him re-bandage me and looked at him.

“I worry about something Alistair,” I began as he continued his work.   
“What do you worry about?”   
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, because it’s going to sound a little loopy,” I said, as Alistair finished re-bandaging me.   
“Just tell me,” he said.

“Every once in a while, I catch glimpses of a different side of you. A side that you don’t let out to play very often, except with me,” I began, and Alistair looked at me patiently.

“It occurs to me, that for far too long, you have been told you are a complication, a mistake. You carry guilt, that it was Duncan who died instead of you. You carry hatred towards Loghain but you hide and smother it… You are letting yourself grief but you only seem to accept the part where you’re in pain. Not that part where you have been wronged and feel the need for retaliation.”

Alistair’s expression had changed from patient to slightly confused.

“I worry that you think of yourself as somehow less of a person… I mean, I worry that you put others first too often… No, I mean I _see_ you put others before yourself, always. And I worry that is because you think you don’t matter, because you have been told this ever since you were little.” Ok, not bad. That could have come out worse.

Alistair gave me an inquisitive look, “a little confrontational but I think what you say holds truth… Where are you going with this?”   
“That other side of you that I only glimpsed a few times. I think it’s the part of you that wants to stand up for himself. The part of you that will not let himself be denied what he is due, and will bow to no man. I think you keep that part caged a lot, too much actually. It comes out in battle, it comes out when you are with me. But you keep it hidden the rest of the time because it has been beaten down too many times when you were young…” 

His look of slight confusion was now bordering on slightly disturbed.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked. Right, here we go.

“How does ‘Alistair unchained’ sound?” I asked with a shy smile. The tension broke and he burst out laughing.   
“You are a strange woman, you know that?”   
“So I’ve been told.”   
“Alright, I think I understand what you mean. And honestly you’re not the first to tell me I should look out for myself more, you just did it with a lot more grace than people usually do. And you made more sense too.” I moved to put my shirt back on, while Alistair chewed on my words.

“‘Alistair unchained’ does have a nice ring to it,” he mused, “you have a nasty habit of seeing straight through me, you know that?” He broke into the widest smirk, “you’re an empath aren’t you?”

“I’m a what?” I asked confused. This conversation was about him, not me.   
“An empath,” Alistair explained, “you have a knack for sensing another person’s internal state. You can tell what they are feeling without them telling you, like you just did with me. You hit bullseye and I’ve seen you do that a lot with others too.”

“I have a knack for reading people, yeah, but I’m not some sort of psychic. I don’t read minds, I don’t know people’s deepest darkest secrets by just looking at them. And I make mistakes more often than you think,” I was feeling a little defensive. People usually didn’t call me out on this.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s like, a form of communication, subconsciously you speak this whole other language that the rest of us are barely aware of, it’s not spoken with words. Something more… instinctual. It might seem manipulative at times but that’s not what it is, you just understand far more than people realize. It’s a rare talent, and a valuable one.”

No one had ever put it quite like that, usually I just got accused of messing with people’s heads. Though I did abuse it to mess with someone’s head more than once... They had it coming, bite me.

“Where did you come to know so much of… ‘empaths?’” I asked Alistair suspiciously, he shrugged.   
“I like to read, young men at a Chantry can grow very bored very quickly. I took solace in the studying and training,” he explained.   
“And why would the Chantry have any books that speak of ‘empaths?’ It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing they would approve of.” I had never been called out quite like _this_ before, it was usually the other way around.

Alistair shook his head, “they don’t feel particularly strongly about empaths one way or another. I think I read it in a book about the human mind. Don’t worry. If anything, it makes you more compassionate than others, not evil. In the eyes of the Chantry at least. And it explains why people flock to you like they do,” Alistair explained.   
“People don’t _flock_ to me, I just happen to be ‘remarkably charming,’” I said defensively.   
“Of course you are, but that’s not all is it? You feel different, you always have, right? Like you could never quite fit in comfortably, it takes effort for you, doesn’t it?” Alistair asked, I opened my mouth to respond but couldn’t find any words, so he just continued.

“You have a striking and charming presence, but the truth is you are a bit of an introvert. You need time to be alone sometimes, away from noise, smells, and other sensations, like at the Spoiled Princess. What we went through at the Circle Tower, it drained you mentally as well as physically. More so than it did for us. Because you had to walk around in that tower experiencing everything we did tenfold. Your experience is of a much higher intensity than ours, that is why you feel different right? Like no one can ever fully relate to you while you relate to them like it’s second nature.”

Alistair was doing the exact thing I usually did to other people. It was the first time someone had seen me this clearly, it was terrifying.

“Did I just render the great Fela Cousland speechless?” he asked with a grin. I was still stunned, like I had been caught red-handed.   
“I did, didn’t I?” his smile melted off his face when I still wouldn’t respond.

For a moment I just stared at him, the man who had so effortlessly managed to draw me out and saw me for what I am. People were _not_ supposed to be able to do that to me, he had disarmed me. His expectations of me would change, his treatment of me would change. Once people figured out I had some sort of insight into their minds, they _always_ changed.

“Fela? Are you alright?” he asked quietly, reaching for my hand. I instinctively pulled it away.   
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” he quietly said, looking down.   
“You didn’t,” I finally whispered, “you didn’t offend me. You just…” I sighed, “you’re right. What you just said, it struck incredibly close to home, right on top of it in fact.” My panic had faded to a manageable level now, I was getting a grip on it.

“That… that has never happened before, has it? Someone striking so close to home I mean,” Alistair asked in a quiet voice. He was afraid he had done something wrong. I pushed the sensation away, I had plenty of my own right now.   
“No,” I said and shook my head, “no it hasn’t.”   
“You must have been incredibly lonely…” he whispered, “didn’t your parents know? Your brother?” I shook my head again.   
“They attributed my… sensitivities, to psychological trauma. And so did I, for a while. I’ve spend a _very_ long time believing that there was something inherently wrong with me, sometimes I still do.”   
“And that’s why you felt you needed to tell me you worried about me, isn’t it? Because you are afraid I am doing the same thing to myself.”   
“Yes,” I whispered. 

“I believe this is the second time this had happened,” Alistair chuckled.   
“What?”   
“Remember one of our talks at the campfire, about how guilty you felt about leaving your family?” Alistair asked.   
“I do, you told me you believed you should have died instead of Duncan, and then pointed out that we both believe we should be dead instead of others,” I summarized.   
“Yes, exactly. You say I should not think of myself as a lesser person, even though my whole life I have been told that I have no place in this world. But you have always thought of yourself as being inherently wrong,” Alistair said, “see, we’re both kicking ourselves in the same places but we tell each other to stop doing it,” he explained.

I let out a relieved laugh, “you’re right, we’re still a couple of misty eyed rookies who think we’re not the ones who should have been here.”   
“I told you to speak for yourself when you say that,” Alistair said in a playful voice.   
“Be careful what you imply Alistair, I might be inclined to prove I can still kick your ass,” I replied.   
“No, no fighting for you,” Alistair declared and kissed me, “you need to rest.” He gave me a stern look.   
“Fine, I’ll wait until I am healed,” I said with a defiant look and a smile.

An empath… I had never heard the term before, but it made a lot of sense. At least the way Alistair explained it. I didn’t like thinking of myself as special, and the term kind of suggested that. But then again, the term ‘warrior’ or ‘rogue’ also suggest certain traits that set people apart from others. So I decided to accept the term for now, but I was not going to self-identify as such.

_‘Hi my name is Fela and I am an empath, that means I know exactly how you feel all the time.’_

Nope, hell no. If there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was an attention whore. I just added it to the list of my personal traits. Which also included ambidextrous, bloodthirsty, silver-tongued, dark curly hair, sick sense of humour, and the like. That should take the negative connotation down a bit. It sounded better than 'overly-sensitive' after all. I made a mental note to find more information about the empath-thing, someday far away after the Blight.

_Hah! Like that was likely to happen._ I should add cynicism to my list of personal traits as well.

After putting my shirt back on I followed Alistair out of the tent. I found Wynne sitting by the fire and decided to join her.   
“How have you been?” I asked as I sat down next to her. Wynne did not immediately respond, not surprising seeing as she lived her entire life at the Circle tower, which had nearly been obliterated recently.   
“I think I am alright Warden, thank you,” she said in her patient grandmotherly voice.   
“I don’t mean to be rude Wynne, but I find that hard to believe,” I said gently, “you must have lost a lot of people you were close to.” I looked at Wynne to gauge her response, she was remarkably calm.

“Yes,” she finally said, “the tower had been my home for so long, I barely remember the days before I was brought there.”   
“You were young then? When you were brought to the Circle?” I asked, hoping she would open up and share a bit.   
“Very, the oldest memory I have is from huddling up in a haystack to try and keep warm. This wasn’t very long before the Chantry found me and took me to the tower,” she said, the look in her eyes was distant, she was remembering.   
“Where did you live? Before the tower I mean,” I asked, hoping that this line of questioning would get her to open up before I started asking about recent events.

“I don’t know, I am told that it was somewhere in the Bannorn. And I was alone,” she answered.   
“You were alone? How old were you?”

I made no effort to mask my shock, I had a hard time picturing Wynne as a little girl. But thinking of a young child, alone, having to survive on her own made my gut twist.

“I am not sure, all I know is that I was alone and that I needed to survive. At one point I found a barn to hide in, and the family who owned it found me,” Wynne explained.

“What did they do when they found you?” I asked, slightly apprehensively. Wynne had obviously lived a very difficult life.   
“They were good people, they let me stay in the barn, and even fed me. They were kind,” she said, “I even played with the other children.” I looked at Wynne and studied her, from what I could tell, the memory brought feelings of melancholy but not fear and anger. There was an air of acceptance about her, she did not resent the way things went for her.

“So how did you end up at the Circle tower?” I asked. Feeling a bit more confident that she would open up.   
“The other children would often remind me that I was not a member of their family. But I had grown quite attached, and children can be cruel. So when one of the older boys had been particularly diligent in reminding me of this, he found his hair on fire. He had to dunk his head in a pig troth.”

I looked up at Wynne again, this time because I was eager to know what happened next.

“That can’t have gone over well,” I said and Wynne replied.   
“They locked me in the barn with a few crusts of bread. I’m not sure how long it was before the Templars came to get me. But that’s how I was brought to the Circle tower.”

Wynne paused for a moment, “you have to understand, they were frightened. The common people know very little about magic and mages, they have been taught to fear it. They could have killed me instead of calling in the help of the Templars. They didn’t.”   
“Maybe they were too scared to go near you,” I wondered.   
“Perhaps,” Wynne said, “but that doesn’t change what happened. And to tell you the truth, I was very happy when they brought me to the Tower. When I entered, it was so grand and beautiful. I had three meals each day, and got to sleep in a bed with a roof over my head. I felt very lucky to live in a place like that.”

I chewed on that for a bit. It made sense that to a little girl who had been surviving in harsh conditions, a life at the tower was a welcome change. She had a bed to sleep in, three meals a day, a roof over her head. I took these things for granted but Wynne had known a very different life.

“Did the Templars treat you well? You were only a little girl, I imagine you didn’t understand what was going on,” I asked her.   
And she gave a slight smile, “correct, but they were patient and they were good to me on the journey to the tower, gentle even. I did not fear them,” she told me.

And I felt glad, it felt good to hear that the Templars were not just prison guards, waiting to kill. If they were kind and gentle to a little girl, then some of them must at least still see the mages as actual people. Instead of abominations waiting to happen, I was reminded of Cullen and shivered.

“Thank you for taking an interest in me, but now I think I would like to be left alone with my thoughts. If you don’t mind,” Wynne said politely.   
I nodded, “I understand, thank you for being so honest with me.”

I got up and wandered off, the others were busy preparing dinner and collecting wood. This was a good time to take a moment for myself. I chewed on the empath-thing. Alistair had been so accurate it was disturbing. I guess I had gotten a taste of my own medicine. Although I liked to think I would have been a bit more subtle. Alistair hadn’t realized the impact of his words. They weren’t meant to hurt of course, but he caught me by surprise. It was true, no matter how good I was at maintaining and building relationships, I had never felt as connected to another as they seemed to feel connected to me. Whenever I had felt comfortable enough to make mention of this, I was always met with surprise and confusion, sometimes even disbelief. And it was terribly isolating.

The only exception of course, was Alistair. And to be fair, we hadn’t known each other for nearly as long as those that I had shared my loneliness with. In truth, I had been wary of how close I felt to him in such a short time. Even considering the things we went through together. I had never been this comfortable with someone. His treatment of me when we first met had a lot to do with that. I doubt it would have gone the same if I had introduced myself as Lady Cousland. Which was why I understood his apprehension about telling me of his heritage. I probably _would_ have treated him differently if I had known the moment we met. I’m glad that I didn’t. This was better. I still would have fucked him though, he was intoxicating.

My mind wandered to topics better left alone. What would happen after the Blight? I know I had told Alistair I would be right by his side, and I meant it. But what if he _would_ be forced into a political marriage, what would the ‘wife’ think about her husband’s renegade Grey Warden lover? Things might not be as simple as I had made them seem back at the Spoiled Princess. Besides, unless we played our cards _just_ right, there wouldn’t even _be_ a throne to take. And then, there was still the risk of him looking like a usurper.

I was aware that it was way too early to be worrying about these things, but it wasn’t like I could just turn it off. The implications were too large. If Alistair became King, let’s assume that this would indeed happen, what would my position be? If I would marry him, that would make me Queen, which was not exactly my dream job. And given the fact that my house had been destroyed and my name had been slandered, I was _not_ a suitable party for marriage. Did I even want to marry him? How was I supposed to make a decision like that? I sighed. My mind wandering to sneaking off to Orlais together.

“Fela!”

I turned towards the call, it was Leliana.   
“Yes?” I asked sweetly, trying desperately to hide the worry in my face.   
“Morrigan is looking for you,” Leliana said. This must be good, Morrigan probably had something important to say, or she would have waited until I returned to camp.

“Can you tell her to come find me here?” I asked Leliana, I wasn’t ready to return to camp just yet.   
“Of course,” she said sweetly, and left. I leaned back against a tree trunk.

It was uncomfortable, but I was too tired to care. I just stared numbly at nothing until I heard Morrigan approach. She was quiet, and got quite close before I noticed her. She was used to living in the Wilds after all. One does not go trudging through the Wilds like a boorish bronto letting everyone know you are there. And you certainly would want to avoid leaving a trail.

“Morrigan,” I said, “how may I be of service?” I leaned back carefully, looking up at her.   
“Why are you sitting here?” she asked.   
“Why not?” I shrugged and Morrigan gave me a strange look.

“No matter, I have finished studying Flemeth’s grimoire. Do you wish to hear what I found?” she asked her question with a bit of uncertainty in her voice, let’s take that away.   
“Or course,” I said, moving a bit to the side and inviting her to sit next to me, “what have you found?” Morrigan sat down apprehensively.

“‘Tis not what I expected,” she began, there was the slightest hint of discomfort in her voice, “I was expecting a map of the power she wields, a collection of spells. But this is not it.”   
“You seem disturbed by that,” I noted.   
“Yes, I suppose disturbed would be the correct term…” she said and trailed off.

“So what did you find that worries you so?” I asked gently.   
“Here, in great detail, Flemeth describes how she has survived for all these years,” Morrigan said but paused.   
I decided to lighten the mood a bit, “let me guess, she drinks blood and eats babies?” That earned me a slight, if troubled, chuckle.   
“‘Tis closer to the truth than you might think…”

_Alright, this is going to be disturbing, brace yourself, Fela._

“What is the truth then?” I asked.   
“Legends have always spoken of Flemeth having many daughters, and yet I never met any of them. I always wondered how this could be, I asked Flemeth about it but she wouldn’t say…” Morrigan paused again, I patiently waited for her to continue. “The witches from the legends, the daughters, they are _all_ Flemeth,” Morrigan said.

_Oh, fuck._

“When Flemeth becomes old and wizened, she raises a daughter. Then, when the time is right, she takes her daughter’s body for her own,” Morrigan explained.   
“That’s kind of like eating babies,” I mused, “what do you intent to do about it?”   
“There is only one appropriate response, Flemeth has to die.” I nodded quietly.   
“Killing Flemeth… That is no easy task…” I was contemplating what Morrigan had said, “how do you think we should do that?” I asked and Morrigan looked at me in surprise.

“You mean… you mean you would do this for me?” she asked, and I answered hesitantly.   
“I can’t have Flemeth take your body, now can I? I consider you my friend, it is my job to have your back. Especially when it comes to body-stealing, shape-changing, infamous witch of the Wilds, mothers. But honestly, I have no idea what I would be up against. I really need your help on this one.” For a moment, Morrigan looked vulnerable. Uncertainty shone in her eyes, but there was something else too. She was thankful, and relieved.

“As you know she is a powerful shape-changer. I am not sure how many forms she possesses, many more than I do. You should probably expect the worst. On top of that, I cannot go with you. If I am present when she dies, I cannot be sure she won’t take my body then and there,” she said quietly.   
“I will do this for you, but I cannot give it the highest priority right now. But, can I promise you that when we are in the area, we will see what we can find, and hopefully, take her out,” I said honestly.

I could not afford to foster any unrealistic expectations with her right now. There was still the Blight.

“I understand, I am in your debt Fela. This is more than I have a right to ask of you, thank you,” Morrigan whispered. I briefly considered giving her a hug. But then I remembered having a conversation with her about touching. She hated it.

“I would give you a hug, but I know you don’t like that. I meant it when I said I consider you my friend, Flemeth will die.” For the second time in her life, Morrigan was speechless. Only this time, it was for a whole different reason. It broke my heart that she never had anyone that truly cared about her. Even her own mother was using her, she would have killed Morrigan to extend her own life. She had Morrigan in the first place for precisely that reason. It had to hurt like a bitch. Morrigan quietly nodded in thanks, and left.

I figured she would rather be left alone, cats hide when they are hurt. It makes them feel safe.

I remained in my spot, leaning against the tree. Today had been a busy day. Lots of information to process, many new developments. We would arrive in Redcliffe tomorrow. A paranoid voice in the back of my head was telling me that Redcliffe would be as much of a freakshow as the tower of Magi. I shut that paranoid voice up, it wasn’t helping. I would see what I would find tomorrow. No use fretting about it now. There would be plenty of time for that.

My thoughts wandered back to Alistair, contrary to what he might think, I thought he just might make a very good King. He was even-tempered, humble, possessed more wisdom than he realised, and he knew mercy. Also strikingly handsome, never underestimate the role that looks play for leadership figures. He would be highly sought after if he took the throne. I felt a stab of jealousy, I worried more about the whole political marriage thing than I was willing to admit. The simple truth was, I did not want him to marry anyone else. But I knew there might be no avoiding it...

Although, it made sense that a happy King was a better King than an unhappy one, right? Why should Alistair be denied happiness? He could be King, husband, _and_ happy, right?

I sighed, all this worrying wasn’t doing me any good. All I could do for the moment was roll with the punches. At this moment, I was hungry. So I decided to roll with that particular punch first, and sauntered back to camp.

Wynne and Leliana had made stew with a rabbit Zevran had managed to shoot. It made for a very good meal, which I ate in comfortable silence while the others chatted away idly.

I retired after dinner, scribbling down a new entry in my logbook by candle light. Alistair joined me soon after, followed by Asher. He joined me under the blankets and Asher took his place at the back of the tent. Alistair nuzzled my neck.

“Enjoyed your moment of solitude?” he whispered, “you were gone for some time.”   
“I’ve learned a lot of new things today, not the least of which is that Flemeth plans to steal Morrigan’s body,” I replied softly.

“I’m sorry, I must have misheard you. Flemeth wants to steal Morrigan’s body?”   
“You heard right.”   
“Damn… I feel sorry for her, and I don’t even like her.”   
“Yeah, as far as mother-daughter feuds go, this one definitely takes the prize for most disturbing.”   
“It’s also kind of tragic.”   
“Hmm, hmm.”

We fell quiet for a moment.

“You promised her you’d help, didn’t you?” Alistair mumbled.   
“Yes I did,” I replied.   
“Fela… You know we have more pressing matters to attend right? I thought the Blight was taking up your entire list,” Alistair replied in a disapproving tone.

“I do, and that’s what I told her. Nonetheless, If we happen to be in the area and can find some way to take her out, I’ll do it. She understands that the Blight is top-priority, and she is thankful I intend to try. But it won’t do to get killed by Flemeth before we do something about the Blight. And I still suspect Flemeth of having some ulterior motive,” I responded. My decision had been made. I considered Flemeth a threat in more ways than one.

“It might be worth looking into…” Alistair admitted reluctantly.   
“And Alistair, I know you don’t like her, and that’s fine. But I do consider her my friend,” I added.   
“I know,” he replied.

“So I didn’t handle that whole empath-thing very tactfully, did I?” he asked, I turned to face him and gave him a kiss.   
“Don’t worry about it, you just surprised me. You’re the first to truly see me, you know, I’m not used to that,” I explained.

Alistair chuckled, “yeah, I’d be sorry about that if you weren’t doing the exact same thing to me.”   
I smiled at him, “right, because making an effort to understand a person is a terrible thing to do.” I kissed him again, and settled back with my back against him.   
Alistair put his arms around me and held me close, “yes, you are cruel,” he whispered in my ear.   
“Then so are you, my love,” I whispered back.

Sweettalking got him going as always, he started gently devouring my neck as I felt his arousal grow. He pressed himself against me, and I moved with him. His hands moved across my body, cupping one of my breasts with one hand, and slipping down between my legs with the other. I let out a soft moan as he found my most sensitive spot. He was teasing me, moving tantalizingly slow. I surrendered myself to his pace, savouring every second of it. He stopped to pull my panties down, and positioned himself behind me. He moved his fingers back to rub me, making me wait. I moved my hips back but he moved back with me with a chuckle. I let out an annoyed growl, turning my head back and briefly glaring at him before hooking a hand behind his head and pulling him down for a hungry kiss.

He smirked before leaning in and kissing me back, slowly moving his hips forward again and pushing himself inside me, I let out a pleasured moan. He moved his hips in the same tantalizingly slow rhythm as his fingers. The hand that was cupping my breast moved up and wrapped around my throat. Exerting just enough pressure to excite me even further without cutting off my breathing. It drove me wild, at that moment I felt nothing but pleasure. Grabbing his hip behind me to make him move faster, he stopped rubbing me to slap my ass and pin my wrist to the ground.

“Ask me nicely,” he whispered in my ear.   
“Faster. Please,” I moaned back and I closed my eyes when he picked up the pace.

He moved to grab hold of my hip, letting go of my wrist. Meanwhile maintaining the grip on my throat. He trust himself deeper inside me and rolled me onto my stomach, with him on top. Pressed to the ground by his weight, I let out more pleasured moans as he kept thrusting into me. His movements becoming faster and harder with each thrust. I loved being dominated, and Alistair was doing it just right. The tension started to build, slowly creeping up through my stomach. Alistair’s grip on my throat tightened slightly as I felt him building up to his climax. A jolt of amplified pleasure shot through me right before the tension broke and I came, I groaned and grabbed at the blankets. Alistair finished right after me, I felt his release when he groaned into my ear. Our pace slowed before finally coming to a stop.

Alistair lay on top of me while catching his breath.

“Maker’s breath, you feel so good,” I whispered.   
I felt his smile against my shoulder, “still think I’m cruel?” he asked.   
“Yes, and no. Can we talk about this when I remember my name?” Alistair chuckled and rolled off of me after kissing my cheek. He settled himself behind me again, one arm draped over me. I fell asleep just like that, echoes of euphoria still washing through me.


	13. The Walking Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group reaches Redcliffe after Fela and AListair have a little chat.

I awoke to Alistair thrashing around in his sleep, Asher had left the tent, so I gently woke him up. Whispering his name in his ear, telling him he was having a nightmare. His eyes snapped open with a sharply inhaled breath, looking around frantically before settling on me. He was breathing fast, staring at me as he remembered where he was. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around me, pulled me close and kissed me before falling asleep again.

I wondered why we ever slept apart in the first place, having someone to wake you up and calm you down when you had a nightmare greatly improved your night rest. Even if we hadn’t been romantically involved, it would just have been practical. Maybe Wardens did tend to pair up but since I was a woman, it had seemed inappropriate. Or maybe not, I never knew those guys, maybe they all preferred to suffer alone. But we sure didn’t. I managed to get some more sleep before Morrigan came to call us for our watch.

We spent our watch as we always did, huddled up under a blanket together. Quietly chatting away. Alistair shared stories about the Grey Wardens. There was one about a man who could drink an entire night but never got drunk. One time, all of the other Grey Wardens had challenged him, he had to drink a pint for every half-pint they drank. Which went on until everyone passed out but him, still drinking when Duncan walked in the next morning. Alistair laughed himself to tears quietly while remembering it.

We woke up Zevran to relieve us from our watch when it was over. Alistair cleaned my wounds and put on the numbing poultice before we went off to spar again. I was feeling a lot better, but I still needed to be careful not to tear any wounds open. So we started with some stretching exercises so I could get a feel for how much strain I could put on my body. I was pleased with my progress, and even felt well enough to try some light sparring.

* * *

“Are you sure? If you tear any of those wounds open Wynne is going to lecture me, and then kill me,” Alistair said as I was circling him.   
“Come on Alistair, I’ve been _itching_ to spar for the last few days. I promise I’ll be careful,” I pleaded.   
“I remember the last time you promised to behave,” Alistair said teasingly, “you still haven’t learned much discipline, have you?”   
“Perhaps you should teach me a lesson then?” I asked playfully, hoping to convince him to spar with me just a little bit.

Alistair shook his head, “you are hopeless,” he said with a smile, “you get carried away far too easily.”   
“Are you saying I have no self-control?” I asked in a mock offended tone, letting the lady make a brief appearance.   
“I would never dare to insult my Lady,” Alistair replied.   
“Well, now you _have_ to spar with me, just so I can prove you wrong, and because you called me ‘my Lady’ again. You don’t get to call me that and get away with it.” I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt. Revealing old bruises and teeth marks from that wolf that pounced on me a while ago.

“No, Fela,” Alistair said sternly but his eyes were playful, I was getting somewhere.   
“Please?” I asked sweetly and batted my eyelashes at him, “I am no delicate flower, my love. What if we get into a fight prematurely and you denied me the chance to explore my current limits? Surely, you do not see me as a damsel in distress? I might be offended.”

Alistair laughed, “you are the last woman who I would consider a damsel in distress, I’ve seen your handiwork,” he looked at me with a grin and crossed his arms.   
“If we can fuck, we can spar Alistair,” I said in a determined tone.   
“Good point,” Alistair said, but he made no move to honour my request.   
“How about this, you attack and I defend. You get to explore your limits and I get to deny any responsibility if you end up tearing your stitches,” he offered.

Good enough for me.

I tried some experimental punches and kicks, which Alistair deflected patiently. I was taking it easy, like I promised. I slowly build up to more powerful and complicated moves. First rule of fighting is to stick them with the pointy end. The second rule is to never let them know exactly what you can do. Leave them wondering, let them underestimate you, then strike when they let their guard down. A smart duellist doesn’t put all of his strength in the first attacks, no point in tiring yourself out prematurely and give yourself away. No, a smart duellist, hits hardest when the fight is coming to an end. It’s as much about psychology as it is about skill. I grinned in satisfaction when Alistair let out a loud groan after I hit him in his chest with an open palm. Not a conventional move, but it had a lot of strength behind it. I moved so my entire body was behind the punch, exerting more force than Alistair expected. He stumbled back a bit, and continued blocking my attacks. I sped up slowly, kicks and punches following each other in increasingly quick succession. I was really enjoying myself, it felt good. Unfortunately it wasn’t long before I heard Wynne calling that breakfast was ready. I noted with satisfaction that Alistair had worked up a sweat.

After a quick breakfast, Alistair and I freshened up and we were on our way. When we stopped for a brief meal, I took Alistair aside.

“Alistair, could I talk to you for a moment?” I asked.   
“Sure, what do you need?” he replied.   
“Perhaps we should talk somewhere private,” I answered and gestured for him to follow me.   
Alistair chuckled, “did you want to talk, or _talk?_ ” he asked suggestively. I responded with a giggle,   
“I’m serious, I need to ask you something.”   
“And you’re dragging me off into the bushes,” Alistair noted and caught up to squeeze my bottom.   
“Grey Warden stuff, it’s a secretive order, I thought I should do this privately,” I said after letting out a little yelp.   
“Uh-huh, right,” Alistair chuckled.

He followed me into the trees a bit further until I stopped.

“So what did you want to ask me?” he slipped his hands around my waist and smiled at me seductively.   
“It’s about the Taint,” I said apologetically.   
“And increased appetites?” Alistair tried hopefully, pulling me closer.   
“No, actually… you said you have never seen many women in the Grey Wardens, yes?” I tried to change the subject.

“Did you ever meet any? Or uhm… maybe the men spoke about some changes of a more… feminine nature?”   
“I’m not sure what you mean…” Alistair said, briefly halting his attempts at steering the conversation his way.   
“Well, I’ve noticed the increase in strength, stamina, appetite, the nightmares, and I’m pretty sure the Taint sharpens our senses and reflexes on the battlefield. But those changes would occur regardless of the Warden’s sex, right?”   
“Yes, we all have them. But I take it you’re talking about a different change?” he replied.

I shook my head and sighed, I shouldn’t be asking a Chantry boy about this. Besides being taught that women _have_ different bodies, which any idiot with eyes could see, I didn’t expect them to teach their charges anything about the workings of those different organs.

“Ok, I’m going to have to ask you something which you’ll probably find awkward. But before I do, I want you to promise me three things. The first is listen carefully and not jump to conclusions. The second is to ignore anything the Chantry taught you about it _and_ not jump to conclusions. The third is _not_ jumping to conclusions. Got it?” I said as Alistair’s expression grew more and more confused.

“Ok, I think I can do that. What’s this about?” he stepped a little closer, putting his hands on my shoulders.   
I took a breath, “do you know anything about the Taint affecting women’s cycles?” Alistair blinked, opened his mouth, and blinked once more and closed it again.   
“Women’s cycles?” he inquired.   
“Monthly cycles, the bloody ones,” I clarified.   
“Oh,” Alistair said and then his eyes widened, “ _oh!_ Erm… no. That particular topic never came up. Why? Haven’t you been… bleeding? As you should have?”

Before I could answer, Alistair’s eyes went wide, “oh shit.” I raised my hands to start explaining but Alistair had jumped to a conclusion and had gone into a state of panic.

“Are you… Did I… Oh Maker…” he let go of my shoulders and ran his hands through his hair.  
“No! no, no, no, no, no. Not pregnant!” I urged, taking care not to raise my voice and reaching for his hands, “Maker’s Breath Alistair, I’ve been taking precautions.”   
“Right, but, accidents happen, don’t they? I think I’m living proof of that,” Alistair said a little absently, gazing at my belly and reaching for it with a hand.   
I put my hands on his cheeks to make him look me in the eye, “Alistair, I’m not pregnant. Calm down, take a deep breath.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little at his response.

“There are many things that can cause problems for a woman’s cycle. Not just babies. And it’s entirely possible that for me, this the result of mental and physical stress. I just wanted to know if it could have been because of the Taint so I could rule out a possible reason. And you’re the only one I could ask.” I let out a chuckle, and kissed his cheek.

“You nearly scared me to death, woman,” he murmured and pulled me into a metal clad embrace.   
“I did tell you not to jump to conclusions,” I replied and wrapped my arms around him.   
“You could have started with telling me you’re not pregnant,” he replied indignantly.   
I laughed, “right, of course. Hey Alistair, I’m not pregnant or anything, but I haven’t been getting my moons as I should, any idea why?”   
He chuckled, “ok, I see how that is not something you can just ask a guy.” He kissed the top of my head before letting go.

“Back to your initial question. I don’t know. I wasn’t a Warden for that long and the few women I met, I wasn’t going to ask about their menstrual cycles. If the men talked about women and their cycles, it was about whether or not they were man enough to handle the blood. Not about the cycle itself.”   
“I figured as much. Let me guess, they were of the opinion that a real man doesn’t mind a little blood in the bedroom so long as his woman is happy?” I replied.   
“Pretty much,” he chuckled, “though they did mention not every woman is willing to have sex during her monthly. And that it’s a bad idea to piss her off during that time.”

I shrugged, “depends on the woman. I myself, respond well to red wine, snacks, and a hot bath to relax the cramps.”

_That and a big fat bowl of elfroot._

“I’ll remember that,” Alistair replied with a grin. 

* * *

We arrived in Redcliffe a little past noon. We were met by a villager, named Tomas, just outside of town.

“I thought I saw strangers coming down the road, though I could scarcely believe it. Are you here to help us?” he asked in a tired, desperate voice.   
“What do you mean? Is there a problem?” I replied.

I felt a request for help coming, oh well… I wasn’t expecting it to be easy anyway.

“You mean… You haven’t heard?” he asked with wide eyes.   
“Well news doesn’t travel as freely during a civil war,” I replied, making no effort to hide my impatience.

“We heard about the King, and all the fighting. That was before everything started here,” Tomas began, “we’re under attack by evil, monsters come out of the castle every night and attack us until dawn. Everyone has been fighting, and dying.”

Morrigan chimed in, “it seems that everyone agrees that the Blight is the perfect time to start killing each other. Marvellous, really.” I ignored her, but I have to admit I kind of agreed with her. It would be nice if everything and everyone _wasn't_ currently going fucking ape shit. 

“We have no army to defend us, no Arl, and no King to send us help. So many are dead… And those left are terrified that they’re next.”   
“Hold on, what is this evil that’s attacking you?” Alistair asked.   
“I- I don’t rightly know. I’m sorry, nobody does. I should take you to Bann Teagan, he’s all that’s holding us together. You’ll want to see him.” Tomas said.

“Bann Teagan, Arl Eamon’s brother? He’s here?” Alistair asked.   
“Yes,” Tomas said, “it’s not far, if you’ll come with me.”

We followed Tomas into Redcliffe. It was eerily quiet, they must have lost a lot of people already. Tomas took us to the Chantry where we met Bann Teagan.

“It’s Tomas, yes? And who are these people with you? They’re obviously not simple travellers.”   
“No my Lord, they just arrived and I thought you would want to see them.”   
“Well done Tomas, greetings, friends. My name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother to the Arl.”

“I remember you Bann Teagan,” Alistair said, “though the last time we met, I was a lot younger. And covered in mud.”   
“Covered in mud… Alistair? It is you, isn’t it. You’re alive! This is wonderful news.” Bann Teagan looked genuinely happy to see Alistair.

“Still alive yes, but not for long if Teyrn Loghain has anything to say about it,” he replied.   
“Indeed, Loghain would have us believe all Grey Wardens died along with my nephew, amongst other things,” Teagan said in a wry tone.

“You don’t believe Loghain?” I asked, Teagan shook his head.   
“Are you a Grey Warden as well? Is it possible we met? You seem familiar,” he asked as he turned to me.   
“You knew my father, Teyrn Bryce Cousland,” I explained, vaguely recalling meeting him years ago.   
“Ah yes, that’s it, little Fela. A pleasure to meet you, though I wish it was under better circumstances. You’re here to see my brother? Unfortunately, that might be a problem. Eamon is gravely ill. No one has heard from the castle in days, no guards patrol the walls, and no one has responded to my shouts. The attacks started a few nights ago, evil things surged from the castle. We drove them back but many perished during the assault,” Teagan explained.

“Could you elaborate on these 'evil things?'” I asked.   
“Some call them the walking dead. Decomposing corpses, returning to life with a hunger for human flesh. They hit again the next night, each night they come, with greater numbers. With Cailan dead and Loghain starting a war for the throne, no one responds to my urgent calls for help. I have a feeling tonight’s assault will be the worst yet. Alistair, I hate to ask, but I desperately need the help of you and your friends.” I looked back at Alistair, giving him a patient look.

“It isn’t just up to me,” Alistair explained, “though the Grey Wardens don’t stand much chance against Loghain without Arl Eamon.”   
“We’ll help,” I stated, and of course, Morrigan and Sten complained.

“There are no darkspawn here, this is a fool’s errand,” Sten said.   
“If there is a chance to rescue the Arl, we have to try it. Alistair is right, we’re not just fighting the Blight, Loghain wants our heads on sticks. Keeping my head is rather vital to stopping the Blight. We need the Arl,” I replied.   
“How pointless to help these villagers fight an impossible battle. One would think we have enough to contend with elsewhere…” Morrigan added.   
“We’re doing the same on national scale, Morrigan, we have things to contend with everywhere,” I said in a calm and patient voice before turning back to Bann Teagan.

“Thank you! This means more to me than you can guess,” he turned to Tomas, “Tomas please tell Murdock what transpired. Then return to your post.”   
“Yes my Lord,” he replied and left.   
“Now then, there is much to do before night falls. I put two men in charge of our defence outside. Murdock, the village mayor is outside the Chantry. Ser Perth, one of Eamon’s knights is just up the cliff at the windmill, watching the castle. You may discuss with them the preparations for the coming battle.”   
Teagan said. He was a nobleman of course, but I did take note of how quickly he took charge. This was a capable man, he naturally demanded respect, and I don’t think he was aware of it.

I liked him.

“We’ll be on our way then,” I bid Teagan farewell and turned towards the great wooden doors that would lead us out of the Chantry.

We briefly stopped on our way out, a girl called Kaitlyn was quietly weeping in a corner. Her grief got under my skin. I felt compelled to go talk to her, to see if I could make it better. She had lost her mother, and her little brother had run off. His name was Bevin, and she suspected he may have gone back to their house. I promised her I would take a look.

We met Murdock outside. “I didn’t know they made women Grey Wardens, huh, I guess it takes all sorts,” he snickered after I introduced myself.   
“The darkspawn don’t care,” I replied flippantly.   
He grinned at that comment, “I’ll take any help I can get, don’t take me for an ingrate or nothing.” I shook his hand.   
“How is morale?” I asked him.

“Morale is as you would expect considering the circumstances. We have too few able men, our armor is barely holding together, and our weapons are broken. There is a smith in town but he is drunk off his ass and refuses to do his job until his daughter comes back. It’s a bloody mess.” He shook his head.   
“I’ll talk to the smith, I might be able to persuade him.”   
Murdock chuckled, “I don’t doubt it.”   
“Anything else I can do to help?” I asked.   
“Any man able to swing a sword would be a great help, perhaps you can persuade a couple of those too. Check the inn, and maybe a couple of houses. Speak to ser Perth to see if he needs any assistance.” I nodded in respect and Murdock went back to barking out orders. We made our way over to the smithy first, the sooner I got him back to work, the better.

I knocked on the door and waited patiently. No answer, so I knocked again.

“Whoever you are, I already told Murdock I am not doing any repairs!” I heard a voice call from inside.   
“Is this Owen? The blacksmith?”   
“Who are you? You’re not from here, are you?”   
“I’m Fela, I am a Grey Warden. I’d rather not speak through a door, can I come in?”   
“Well… Alright then…”

_That was easy…_

Owen opened the door and let us in.

“Thank you for letting us in,” I began but Owen cut right in.   
“Before you even start, I already told Murdock I’m not doing it.”   
“Why have you closed shop Owen?” He was obviously drunk, the place reeked.   
“My… My daughter, Valena. She is the Arlessa’s maid, she was at the castle when the walking dead came. No one has heard from the castle ever since. I tried to convince Murdock to gather a party and go look for survivors in the castle, he refused. He said we cannot spare the men, can you believe that?” He slurred mildly going on about his rant. I had to pay close attention to know what he was saying.

“So instead of fighting back, you decided to get drunk and wait to die. Making sure this ends badly either way,” I said flatly. Owen looked like I had just slapped him across the face, might as well have. I had just scolded the man.

“Well… When you put it that way…” It worked, it had knocked him off course completely. Now to come to his rescue.   
“How about this, I intend to go into the castle. But I cannot do that until after tonight. I am going through a lot of trouble to keep the people who live here alive. And to do that we really need some repairs done for the militia. But when I get into that castle, I will find Valena.” Owen just stared at me.   
“You- You’ll find her for me?” he stammered.

“Yes, but I need your help,” I affirmed.   
“Right, the repairs, for Murdock. I’ll get started right away.”   
“Splendid, but there is something else I need your help with,” I showed him what was left of my armor. There was nothing he could do right now but he gladly found me a replacement. I wasn’t as fine as my own armor, but it sure was better than nothing. And he promised me to repair my armor for me when he found the time.

I left the smithy with a smile, job well done. Onto the next. I decided to visit the general store, we could use some supplies. Unfortunately, the shop was abandoned. We did however find about eighteen vats of lamp oil. I could think of a couple of ways to make good use of those. We left to check some of the houses before returning to Murdock.

We stopped by Kaitlyn’s house after that, where we found her little brother, Bevin, hiding in a closet. After a brief chat with him we send him back to his sister. But he insisted I take his grandfather’s sword, to defend Redcliffe. I promised him I would give it back after the battle. We found a dwarf named Dwyn after that, he was holed up in his house with two companions. I managed to convince him to help defend the village, the man was obviously a veteran and he could help with instructing the less experienced fighters.

We updated Murdock on our progress before moving on to ser Perth. After checking if he needed anything else we moved on to the windmill. Ser Perth was reasonably well equipped. All he wanted us to do was to convince the Revered Mother to bless his men with the Maker’s protection, or something like that. I figured we might as well go talk to the Revered Mother, she might have something to offer, even if I didn’t believe it.

She was the honest kind, she straight up told us that ser Perth was asking something she could not give. She didn’t want to give the men any false hope by lying to them about giving them the Maker’s protection. But after convincing her of the importance of morale, she agreed to give the knights some amulets. We informed ser Perth and got ready to face the walking dead.

Alistair and Wynne took me aside for a moment, “are you sure you are ready?” he asked me in a concerned manner.   
I smiled at him, “you don’t expect me to huddle up in the Chantry do you?”   
“Alistair is not wrong dear, you might tear open your wounds. You’ve been healing well, but I’m not sure you should be fighting just yet.” I looked from Wynne to Alistair.

“I understand your concern, and before you say anything, I hate to admit it… but I agree,” I raised a hand to stop Alistair and Wynne from talking, “but after rallying this town, after making all those promises, do you really think I can back down? If I go down to the Chantry and let others fight for me, what kind of message does that send? Is that the kind of person you want leading you to stop a Blight? I need to be seen in battle here. And although I agree that defending a village under siege is a stupid thing to do considering my current physical state, there is no way I can stay out of this fight. And I am not the only wounded person here. Besides, I’ve been itching for some serious action. And the stakes are high.”

Wynne and Alistair looked at me in defeat. “Just, stay close to me,” Alistair urged me, “you might not be able to stay out of this battle, but we cannot lose you.”   
I nodded, “I promise I will stay close and not do anything stupid.” And I meant it.

“Now, let’s discuss tactics.”

We joined the rest of our group who were waiting for us with ser Perth.

Wynne, Morrigan, Leliana, and a few archers would stay back and use ranged attacks. Ser Perth had made good use of the lamp oil, creating a flaming barrier that the corpses would have to walk through. Sten, Zevran, and a few of Ser Perth’s knights took the front to hold back any corpses that made it through the flames. I remained between the two groups with Alistair, Asher, and ser Perth himself. Ready to attack any corpses that managed to break through. The plan was to kill them as quickly as possible, not letting them close unless we had absolutely no choice.

I waited calmly, focussing my mind on the task ahead. They came just after dusk.


	14. The Battle for Redcliffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle ensues and the group makes it into Redcliffe castle.

The walking dead… it was an apt description.

It was exactly what they were; rotting corpses walking around. Some were missing body parts, but the ones that weren’t, were still mostly in the late stages of decomposing. None of them were whole.

The first wave of corpses came from the castle, I called for the archers to nock their arrows. Waiting until they were within range. I really hoped regular wounds would kill them, but seeing the state of their bodies, I wasn’t counting on it. Only one way to find out.

“Draw!” I called as they made their stumbling way towards us. “Loose!”

A rain of arrows fell upon them, many were hit but most ignored the arrows as I expected, some fell to the ground however. Maybe they would ‘break’ eventually if you hit them often enough. I noted that the ones that fell were the more… decomposed, of the lot.

“Take out the most decomposing ones first! Control the crowd, don’t let them swarm us!” I called as the first corpses started making their way to the flames. The men looked ready, I saw grim determination in their postures. When the first corpse made it through, our front line went to work.

Sten hacked the corpses to pieces with the greatsword I had given him. The blade that had belonged to Bevin and Kaitlyn’s grandfather. Zevran just appeared to be having fun, cutting off limbs and heads. He looked down at the corpses that had fallen, then back up to the ones that still walked.

“Their heads!” he called, “take off their heads! It kills them!” he howled as he beheaded another with a manic cackle.

The rest followed suit. They were holding them back fairly well, but a few of them made it through. Alistair stepped in front of me, Asher beside him, snarling like a feral dog. I slowly drew my blades, told ser Perth to take command of the archers, and joined in the fight. The corpses were many, but they were slow and brittle. I swiped at a corpse’s legs, it went down easily, allowing me to kick at its head. It broke free with a sickening snap, and the corpse stopped moving. I saw Asher hold on to another corpse’s arm, dragging it back. Alistair stepped forward and cut the head clean off. Meanwhile I kicked back another that came after Alistair, the impact of my boot severely damaged its ribcage and spine, it stumbled backwards as one half of its body hung back in an awkward angle. A blow from Sten’s pommel send it limply to the ground.

We were holding, the corpses did not make it past our line or defence. There were just very, _very_ , many of them. When the horde of corpses slowed down to a trickle, one of Murdock’s men came charging towards us. Calling for our help, the corpses had started coming from the lake. I commanded ser Perth and his men to hold the line and rushed down to the town square with my companions.

Murdock, Dwyn, Teagan, and their men were overrun by corpses. I ordered Sten, Alistair, and Zevran to flank the horde. There was no time, I joined the fray.

“Cut off their heads! It kills them immediately!” I called to Murdock, who repeated my command.

“Good to see you’re alright Warden!” he called back to me while striking down a corpse. I was back to back with Murdock now, furiously cutting and swiping at any dead thing that moved. They had us surrounded

“Morrigan! Wynne!” I looked back to see if I had their attention, “spells! Now!” Wynne provided me with a boost to my stamina, Morrigan cast a hex making the corpses even more vulnerable.

The renewed strength in my limbs helped me cut through the corpses, I moved with so much speed my blades became a blur. The men fought with all they had. With our added strength and guidance, they managed to drive back the corpses to a manageable number. I lost track of how many I cut down, when the horizon finally started to light up, there were so many bodies, limbs, and torsos it was impossible to tell how many we had vanquished. We didn’t particularly care, we were just tired.

When the last corpse was cut down, I reached for my back with a groan. As predicted, I had torn something open, blood was dripping from under my armor, running down the back of my leg. Wynne and Alistair rushed toward me when they saw me look at my bloodied hand after touching my back.

“Fela! Goddamnit! I _told_ you, you would tear those wounds open!” Alistair scolded as he moved to help me sit down.   
“Bite me,” was all I had to say to that. I was looking around to see how many had survived. I was pleased, most of them were fine and only some were wounded. None of them were bleeding like I was. Wynne quickly removed my armor and tore open the back of my shirt to take a look. I didn’t bother feeling ashamed and exposed, though I did feel annoyed that I had destroyed yet another shirt. Well actually, Wynne did, but I don’t blame her.

“Put her down on her stomach, Alistair, I need to stop the bleeding.” I growled when she put pressure on the wounds, but endured her treatment. Alistair remained beside me, soothing me. My wound hurt like hell.

Bann Teagan made his way over to us, stepping over body parts.   
“I can’t believe it… You actually did it!” Teagan said with relief.  
"Yay," I replied weakly from the ground.  
Alistair turned to him, “we’ve won this night, but there will be more if we don’t find their source,” he warned.   
Teagan looked at my wounds, “those don’t look like they are fresh,” he noted.

“They’re not. This was done by a pride demon a few days ago. I just tore something open,” I responded in a tired voice.   
“A pride demon?” he asked in awe.   
“Long story, can we get back to matters at hand?” Alistair said. Obviously he didn’t appreciate Teagan staring at my exposed back. Even if it was bloody and stitched.

“Of course,” Teagan looked back at Alistair, giving no inclination of having noticed the younger man’s scowl.   
“First things first, get patched up. We will address the townsfolk to tell them of our victory later. After that, meet me at the windmill when you are ready. I intend to go into the castle, and I’ll need your help.” Alistair nodded at Teagan who went to check on his men.

Wynne managed to stop the bleeding fairly quickly. Luckily I had torn only one wound open, the rest were fine. Wynne removed the old stitches before cleaning the wound with alcohol. I hissed at the burning sensation, but it had to be done, we were sitting among more rotting flesh than I had ever seen in one place. I didn’t fancy picking up some nasty infection. Wynne re-stitched the wound and I grit my teeth at the feeling of the hook-needle and gut being pulled through my skin.

Getting stitches is unpleasant to begin with, but if you are stupid, like me, and tear them open, the process of restoring them gets all the more painful.

Wynne worked with quick efficiency, meanwhile lecturing me about the difference between responsible, and irresponsible behaviour. I just sucked it up, I did the right thing and they knew it. I had to remind myself that they were simply concerned for me. I probably would have responded the same way. After patching me up and dosing me with a powerful painkiller, Wynne went to check on the other wounded. Leliana had gone to fetch me a new shirt, I have no idea how she got me a new one that quickly but I appreciated it. She helped me put it on before helping me back into my armor.

“You did well, Fela. The men know they owe you their lives. If you hadn’t taken control the way you did, they would have been slaughtered.”   
I smiled shyly, “you are too kind Leliana, without you guys I never would have made it this far. And I wouldn’t say I took ‘control’…”   
“Oh but you did, you were barking out orders, to ser Perth and to Murdock, and they obeyed without question. These are the makings of a natural leader,” she helped me up.

“Well, in truth I was _taught_ to lead, I just let experience and instinct take over…” Leliana just smiled knowingly, obviously she felt I had proven her point. I let her have that one.

“And on top of that, they have seen you bleed for them. You have won them over, even if the Arl can’t help, these men will.” I thanked Leliana with a careful hug.   
Then looked around, I did see respect and awe in some of their faces. Many of them nodded to me in appreciation. Some even came over to thank me personally. I had no clue what to do with all this gratitude. So I just tried to be as graceful as I could. Which meant I wasn’t doing a very good job, but the men did not seem to mind.

I decided to go find Kaitlyn and Bevin to give their sword back. I retrieved it from Sten, and went looking for them. They refused to take the sword back, telling me it would do more good in my hands then theirs. I convinced them to at least let me pay them for it. And a good thing too, apparently the children were penniless and would have been send off to orphanages without the money I gave them. They would travel to Denerim to live with family. Sten was happy to have the blade back.

I think… I can never be sure with that guy. 

Despite the pain, I felt rather good today. This time at least, we managed to save a substantial number of people after stumbling into yet another disaster. We were more successful here than we had been at the tower of Magi in that respect. But we had yet to make an ally out of the Arl, so our job was not yet finished.

After a brief moment of rest, I noticed the villagers pour out of the Chantry to gather at the town square. Bann Teagan was addressing them. It was a celebration speech, he was telling the people that there was hope, attributing the night’s victory to me and my companions. And although I was still humbled by all the thanks and appreciation, I felt proud. We had made a big difference here. I actually felt a bit more confident when we went up to the windmill to meet with Bann Teagan.

Teagan stood at the edge of the cliff, “odd how quiet the castle looks from here… You’d think that there was nobody inside at all. But I shouldn’t delay things further, I have a plan to enter the castle now that the village is secure. There is a secret passage here in the mill, accessible only to my family,” he said as he turned to face us.   
“Have you tried this before?” I asked.

A little convenient to only share this titbit of information now, but I would have given the village priority anyway.

“No, I have been too busy with the village, and I needed able warriors. I’m sorry for not sharing this with you sooner- Maker’s breath!”

He looked past me and stopped mid-sentence. I turned to see what he was looking at. A woman came down from the castle. Blond, petite, middle-aged, noble woman’s clothing. I guessed this must be Isolde, what a coincidence.

“Teagan! Thank the Maker you yet live,” she spoke in a soft Orlesian accent.   
“Isolde… You’re alive,” Teagan began, “how did you… What happened?”   
“I do not have much time to explain, I slipped away from the castle as soon as I saw the battle was over. And I must return quickly. And I… need you to return with me, Teagan. Alone,” she spoke in a hushed voice.

“You realise how that sounds right?” I spoke before Teagan could.   
Isolde turned to look at me, she eyed me up and down with a disapproving look.   
“What? I… Who is this woman, Teagan?” she asked, giving me a nasty look.   
“You remember me, Lady Isolde, don’t you?” Alistair asked her.   
“Alistair,” she scoffed, “of all the… Why are _you_ here.”

“They are Grey Wardens Isolde,” Teagan explained, “I owe them my life.”   
“Pardon me, I would exchange pleasantries but, considering the circumstances…” She turned back to Teagan but Alistair spoke up.

“Please, Lady Isolde, we had no idea anyone was even alive in the castle. You _must_ have some answers.”   
“I know you need more of an explanation, but I don’t know what is safe to tell,” she said to Teagan, barely even looking at Alistair.

“Teagan, there is a terrible evil within the castle, the dead waken, and hunt the living, the mage responsible was caught but still it continues. And I think… Connor is going mad. We have survived but… he won’t flee the castle. He has seen so much death… You must help him Teagan, you are his uncle, you could reason with him! I do not know what else to do!” Isolde pleaded.

Her despair was genuine but she wasn’t telling us everything. She was holding back purposely.

“Tell me about this mage you mentioned,” I said in a business-like tone. She looked back at me over her shoulder with a glare but quickly turned back to Teagan.   
“He… He’s an infiltrator I think.”

_Liar._

“One of the castle staff. We discovered he was poisoning my husband, that is why Eamon fell ill.”   
“Eamon was poisoned?” Teagan asked in shock.   
“He claims an agent of Teyrn Loghain hired him. He may be lying however, I cannot say.”

“What about Arl Eamon, is he still alive?” I asked, earning another glare.   
“He is, he is being kept alive so far. Thank the Maker.”   
“'Kept alive?' Kept alive by _what_?” Teagan asked her.   
“Something the mage unleashed, so far, it allows Connor, Eamon, and myself to live. The others were not so fortunate. It killed so many, and turned their bodies into walking nightmares. Once it was done with the castle, it struck the village. It wants us to live… But I do not know why. It allowed me to come for you Teagan, because I begged, because Connor needed help!” Isolde’s tone was getting more and more urgent.

“Sounds like some kind of demon,” I said flippantly. I was acting indifferently on purpose, I hoped she would get mad and her act would break. Part of it at least. She _was_ truly afraid for her and her son’s life, that much was clear. But this felt way too much like a trap.

“I do not know… Maker’s mercy… could it truly be a demon? I can’t let it hurt my Connor! please! You must come back with me, Teagan! Please! For Connor’s sake!” she was begging now.

“Enough. What aren’t you telling us?” I cut her off, it was insensitive of me, and rude. But I swear by the Maker that this woman was purposely leading us into danger, even if she truly _did_ fear for her son. She was more than willing to lead us to our deaths if it meant saving Connor. Such is a mother’s love.

“I-” Isolde gasped and turning back to me, “I beg your pardon? That is a rather impertinent accusation.”   
“Is it though?” I asked her with a straight face, “why must Teagan go alone?”   
“An evil I cannot fathom holds my son and husband hostage. I came for help… What more do you want of me?” She turned back to Teagan, “Teagan I do not have much time, what if it thinks I am betraying it!? It could kill Connor! Please come back with me! Must I beg!?” I looked at Teagan, ignoring Isolde’s pleading.

“We need to make a decision,” I said calmly.   
Teagan faced Isolde again, “the King is dead, and we need my brother now more than ever. I will return to the castle with you Isolde.”   
“Oh, thank the Maker, bless you Teagan,” she replied.

“We don’t have much of a choice, but this could kill you, Teagan,” I warned.   
“I have no illusions as to dealing with this evil alone. You on the other hand, have proven quite formidable. Isolde would you excuse us for a moment, we must confer in private before I return to the castle with you.”   
“Please do not take too long. I will be by the bridge.” And with that she walked off. I shared a look with Alistair, he mistrusted Isolde as much as I did.

“Here is what I propose,” Teagan spoke quickly and quietly, “I go in with Isolde, and you enter the castle through the secret passage. My signet ring unlocks the door. Perhaps I will… distract whatever evil is inside and increase your chances of getting in unnoticed. What do you think?”   
I nodded slowly, “alright, it’s the best plan we have. But be careful, Teagan, don’t get yourself killed.”   
“You are too kind, I should consider myself lucky that a woman of your like is concerned for my safety,” he said.

I felt Alistair’s scowl without looking at him.

“Take care Bann Teagan, until we meet again,” I extended my hand and he shook it with a nod. He took off to meet Isolde. I watched them leave before entering the mill and finding the secret passage.

The passage took us into the dungeons of the castle. We were met by more walking corpses. I stayed back with Wynne and Morrigan, shouting directions and keeping myself out of the fighting. I felt the blood loss, even if it wasn’t as severe as before. I was out of breath by the time we made our way through the passage and into the dungeon. A clear sign I needed to take it easy. The others took care of the corpses easily, after an entire night of hacking the things apart, they had developed an efficient routine.

“Hello? Who’s there?” someone called from within one of the cells. I made my way over to see who was inside.   
“I assume you are the mage,” I said as the robed man came into my field of vision.   
“I-, Yes. T-thank you, you saved my life,” he stammered.   
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Tell me who you are,” I said icily, crossing my arms before my chest.

“My name is Jowan. I was hired by Lady Isolde to teach her son, Connor,” he began.   
“And you poisoned the Arl,” I added flatly. A mixture of horror and regret dripped down Jowan’s face.   
“I-… Yes… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for all this to happen!”   
“And yet it did, tell me, what was your part in it?” I stared him down, making him shiver beneath my gaze. He was extremely intimidated, just like I wanted him to be. Sten, Morrigan, and Alistair stood glowering behind me, their presence aiding my intimidation of him.

He began explaining quickly.

“When Lady Isolde started looking for a mage to teach her son, I was sent by Teyrn Loghain. I was to poison the Arl...”   
“Connor, he’s a mage then?”   
“Yes, Lady Isolde was terrified that her son would be sent to the circle of Magi. So she hired an apostate to teach Connor in secret. Just enough so he could learn to hide his magic.”   
“And then the Arl fell ill.” The pieces fell into place. The guilt on Jowan’s face was so intense I could almost taste it. Like bile in the back of my throat.

“It’s all my fault… When the Arl fell ill… I’m not sure what Connor did. He could have gotten into my rooms and used my tomes. He summoned a demon…”   
“So he became an abomination. That’s the evil Isolde spoke of, we need to find them.” I turned to leave, but Jowan stopped me.   
“Please, I know I have no right to ask you this, but if you would allow me, I want to help.”   
“What makes you think I’m inclined to let you out after what you did?”   
“Connor, there may yet be a way to save him!”

I knew of only one way of dealing with abominations, I glanced back at Jowan.

“What are you talking about?”   
“The demon, it possess Conor from the Fade. If we send someone in, they could slay the demon without harming Connor. Normally we wouldn’t be able to send someone into the Fade… But I have… blood magic. I am a maleficar.”   
“You think I would allow you to cast a spell? _Any_ spell?” I was reluctant to work with Jowan but killing a child…   
“I promise, I won’t run. I will endure whatever judgement you see fit, but please give me a chance to right some of the wrongs I did!” I stared at Jowan, trying to make a choice between two evils.

“Alright. I am going to let you out. Don’t try anything, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”   
“You… You are? And then what?”   
“You come with me, that’s what.”

“Wow, hold on. You’re not actually letting a blood mage come with us?” I turned to look at Alistair.   
“I don’t like it either, but… I know of only one way to deal with an abomination. And Connor is a child, I expect he barely understood the consequences of what he did. I cannot hold him responsible, I cannot kill an innocent boy. And Jowan just offered us another way to fix this.”   
“But, to resort to blood magic… two wrongs don’t make a right, Fela.”   
“Would killing Connor make it right?” Alistair lowered his eyes, finally he nodded in agreement.

“Wait, I know I said I wanted to help, but I’m not about to follow you into danger,” Jowan suddenly said.   
I stared daggers at Jowan, “You _dare_ try to save your own skin!? You bargain with me to let you help and then you put _your_ safety above _Connor’s!?”_

I could have killed Jowan then and there, it took a lot of self-restraint not to. Jowan stared back at me like a scared rabbit.

“Leave him here, we won’t have to watch him that way,” Alistair offered. I agreed, and we went on our way.

We fought our way through the castle, clearing out each and every room we came across. Fighting in a confined space is hard enough as it is. Better to make sure no horde can come up from behind and lock us in. In doing so, we stumbled upon Valena, the smith’s daughter. She had been hiding in a pantry. I sent her back the way we came, there would be no corpses to attack her. I told her about the passage in the dungeons and urged her not to speak to Jowan. She took off.

The doors to the main halls were sealed off. We needed to go through the courtyard to get in. There were corpses waiting for us. Lead by a revenant. We could handle the corpses just fine but the revenant was something else, much more deadly than the corpses.

It used magic to drag me toward it, I barely managed to roll out of the way of its sword when the thing swung it down at me. I kicked at its legs with a snarl but it stepped out of the way effortlessly. I rolled onto my feet and blocked another blow with both my rapiers. The force of the blow caused me to stagger and sent a jolt of pain through my back, I cried out.

Suddenly Alistair slammed into the revenant, stopping it from striking at me again. The revenant crashed into what looked like a fortification made out of barrels. Alistair pulled me up quickly before turning back to block another blow. I used the moment to stab the revenant just below his ribs, and twisted my blades to maximize the damage. But it didn’t go down. Alistair swung his blade at the creature’s neck, but it blocked the blow with its arm which was covered in a thick metal bracer, but the inside of its wrist wasn't. I swiped at its sword hand, severing it at the wrist before it could attack again. The creature howled in pain, letting out bloodcurdling shrieks. I hated the shrieking. I stabbed it in the throat, pushing my blades up into its skull until I shoved them out of the back of its bony crown.

It dropped to the ground as I pulled my rapiers back and it stopped moving.

I kicked at it, “undead," kick, "piece," kick, "of," _kick, "shit!”_ a final kick for good measure and I bent over to catch my breath.   
“Are you alright?” Alistair asked concerned.   
“Yeah, just out of breath… I’m not bleeding right?”   
Alistair moved to check my back, “no, you’re good.”   
“Awesome. Time to kick down the door.”

Sten did so as I spoke the words. We made our way inside, I was leaning on Alistair a bit when we entered the main hall. We walked in on a disturbing scene.

Teagan was bouncing around, doing cartwheels and dancing for a boy I assumed was Connor. Isolde stood next to him, slouched, looking defeated. Connor motioned for Teagan to stop when he saw us approach.

“So these are our visitors,” Connor said.

His voice was wrong, it was too deep, and a distorted echo whispered with him as he spoke.

“The ones you told me about mother.”   
“Y-yes, Connor,” Isolde spoke barely above a whisper.   
“This is the one that defeated my soldiers, the ones I send to reclaim my village.”   
“Yes…”   
“And now it’s staring at me, what is it mother? I can’t see it well enough.”

The demon couldn’t see me? Odd.

“This… This is a woman Connor, just as I.”   
Connor laughed, “a woman, just like _you_? You have absolutely nothing in common with this one, why just look at her, half your age, and pretty too. I’m surprised you don’t order her executed in a fit of jealousy,” he cackled.

Ah, so he was able to see quite a bit.

“Connor… Please… I beg you, don’t hurt anyone.”   
Connor grabbed at his head and groaned, “mo-mother? What’s happening? Where am I?” For a brief moment, Connor seemed to have regained control.   
Isolde went down on her knees, “oh thank the Maker, Connor. Connor can you hear me?”

“Get away from me you _foul_ woman!” he shouted, the demon was back, “you are beginning to bore me!”

“It seems the child is beyond saving,” Morrigan said quietly.   
“Please, Grey Warden, I beg of you, don’t hurt my son!” Isolde pleaded.   
“I’m not about to go and kill a child,” I said coldly.   
“What have you done with Bann Teagan?” I asked Connor.   
“Here I am! I am here! Hahahahaha!” Teagan sounded absolutely mad.   
“I like him better this way, now he amuses me!” Connor let out another distorted laugh.

“Connor did not mean to do this,” Isolde began, “it was that mage, to one who poisoned Eamon, he started all this! _He_ summoned this demon, Connor was just trying to help his father!”   
“It was a _fair_ deal,” Connor said menacingly, “father, is alive. Just as I wanted. Now it’s _my_ turn to sit on the throne and send out armies to conquer the world. Nobody tells me what to do anymore.”   
“Nobody tells him what to do! Nobody!” Teagan cheered.   
“Quiet uncle! I warned you what would happen if you kept shouting, didn’t I? Yes, I did. But let’s keep things civil, this woman shall have the audience she seeks. Tell us, _woman_ , what have you come here for?”

“I was hoping to find Bann Teagan,” I said.

It was true, but I wasn’t about to piss him off and cause him to attack with the _whole_ truth.

“Uncle!? But uncle is right here, say hello uncle,” Connor said menacingly.   
“Hello uncle,” Teagan said.   
“Dear uncle was very full of himself earlier today, I think being a jester rather suits him. Don’t you mother?”   
“I-I don’t think…” she began.   
“Of course you don’t! Ever since you send the knights away, you do nothing but deprave me of my fun! Frankly, it’s getting dull. I crave excitement, and action! This woman spoiled my sport, by saving that stupid village! And now, she’ll repay me.” Connor took off as the remaining guards attacked, Teagan was among them.

“Don’t kill Teagan!” I yelled, and drew my blades. We were outnumbered, but that didn’t matter. What did complicate things was Teagan attacking us. I kicked the back of his knees and spun to deliver a kick to the side of his head. It knocked him out cold, he was going to feel that for a while. No matter, with him out of the way, we cut down the guards. Isolde was cowering in a corner. My blades were dripping with blood.

I heard Teagan groan, he was slowly getting up.   
Isolde ran to him, “Teagan! Are you alright?” she asked him.

“Sten, Wynne, could you get Jowan for me please?” I asked as I observed Teagan and Isolde. I leaned back against a table to catch my breath and let Isolde tend to him as I wiped my blades with a piece of cloth I tore off one of the guards.

“I’m… fine, my mind is my own again,” Teagan groaned as he got to his feet.   
“We need to deal with Connor Isolde,” he said with a solemn look.   
“No… no, please! There has to be another way!” she looked at each of us, hoping to find some sort of support.

“I’m sorry my Lady, Connor has become an abomination,” I heard Jowan speak as Wynne, Sten, and he entered.

“You!” she shrieked, _“you_ did this to Connor!”   
“I didn’t! I didn’t summon any demon, I told you! Please, if you’ll just let me help-”   
_“Help!?_ You betrayed me! I brought you here to help my son and in return you poisoned my husband!” Isolde was all but frothing at the mouth.

“This is the mage you spoke of?” Teagan asked, “didn’t you say he was in the dungeon?”   
“He _was_ , I had assumed the creatures had killed him by now. Someone must have set him free,” she spat.

“Indeed I did,” I said casually, “and I stand by my decision, he says he knows of a way to help.”

“Help!? After everything he did he should be _executed!_ Without him, none of this would have happened!” She stormed at me but stopped right in front. I stared her down calmly, she wouldn’t dare hit me. She knew better.

“Your secrecy made his actions possible, Isolde,” Teagan said.   
She turned to face him, “but… I...” she began but Jowan cut in.   
“I know… what you must think of me, my Lady. I took advantage of your fear, I am sorry. I never knew it would come to this.”   
“Well I shan’t turn away his help, not yet. And if Connor is truly an abomination…” Teagan said.   
“He is not always the demon you saw. Connor is still inside him, and sometimes he breaks through. Please, I just want to protect him,” she replied to him.   
“Isn’t that what started this? You hired the mage to teach Connor in secret… to protect him,” Teagan reprimanded.   
“If they discovered Connor had magic, then they’d take him away. I thought if he learned just enough to hide it then…”

“So you had no idea that the man you hired was an assassin?” I asked.   
“None, I trusted Loghain, why wouldn’t I? How could I have suspected the mage he would send would be a murderer?” she replied. She had calmed down a bit now. And I believed her.

“And Eamon knew nothing of your plans? Do you not realise what you’ve done, Isolde?” Teagan snapped at her.   
“Eamon would only demand we do the right thing! I was not going to lose my son! Not to… to _magic_!” she snapped back.   
“You might lose him anyway now,” I said sternly.

“Magic… runs in my family. The ones that had it were all, sinful terrible men. When I found out Connor had it… I didn’t know what to do…”   
“And so you’ve brought doom and death upon us all, including your son!” Teagan spoke angrily, his voice was like steel.   
“No, please. There must be another way! There must be something we can do!” Isolde said desperately.   
“Jowan?” I asked.

“The demon inside Connor needs to be destroyed. Killing Connor would be the easiest way to do that, certainly… But there is another way. A mage could confront the demon in the Fade, without hurting Connor himself,” Jowan explained.   
“What do you mean? Is the demon not within Connor?” Teagan asked.   
“Not psychically. The demon approached Conner in the Fade while he dreamt. It controls him from there. We can use the connection between them to find the demon,” Jowan added.

“You can enter the Fade, then? And kill the demon without hurting my boy?” Isolde asked hopefully.

“No, but I can enable another mage to do so. Normally it requires lyrium and several mages, but I have… Blood magic…”   
Isolde looked at Jowan in confusion, “blood magic uses the life force of others as raw mana,” I explained.   
“Yes, that’s right. The ritual I know, it requires life energy. A lot of it… All of it in fact,” he spoke solemnly.

“So… So someone must die? Someone must be sacrificed?” Bann Teagan asked with a shocked look on his face.   
“Yes, and then we send another mage into the Fade. I can’t enter because I am doing the ritual… Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything… It’s… not much of an option.”   
“Is there no other way?” I asked Jowan.   
He slowly nodded, “if you could gather enough lyrium and mages, we could do it without the sacrifice. But that would take time, and we don’t have much of it left,” Jowan said.   
“I will do it,” Isolde said firmly, “I will be the sacrifice, so that my son can live.”

“Fela, a word,” Alistair interrupted. I followed him to have a private talk.   
“The tower of Magi, it’s not far from here, on horseback we could make it there and back in under three days,” he said in a hushed voice.   
“I was thinking the same thing, but that would mean leaving Connor for three days. Any deaths during that time are on us. Can we risk that?” I looked at him hopefully.   
“We have to try, Connor is a victim in all this too.”   
I smiled and pulled him in for a kiss, “I love you.”   
We returned to find the others waiting.

“There is lyrium and plenty of mages at the tower, and they owe me.” I announced.

“You mean, you will go there? So no one has to die?” Teagan asked. I nodded.   
“On horseback we can make it there and back in under three days, I intend to take only Alistair and Wynne. Leaving the rest of my party to help contain Connor. Don’t do anything stupid, and wait for us. If we’re not back within six days, proceed with the ritual. Morrigan, can I count on you?” She gave me a nod.

“Point us to the stables.”

Teagan gave us directions and we rushed off.


	15. The First Night at Redcliffe Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynne, Alistair, and Fela rush back to the Circle Tower, and Connor is saved by Morrigan. The group stays at Redcliffe castle for the night while Fela and Alistair try to decide whether to go after the urn of Sacred Ashes, or go to Orzammar. They get drunk together and have themselves a party.

Luckily, the horses had not been attacked. I saddled a black stallion, helping Wynne and Alistair where I was needed.

“Follow my pace, we don’t want to ride these horses to death,” I said once we were ready to go and took off at a relaxed trot. Starting slowly to give the horses proper time to warm up. I had to hold my horse back, he was eager to go and run at full speed. But this was a test of endurance, not of speed.

I let our pace build slowly, careful not to tire the horses out too much too quickly. After about an hour of this, I started introducing brief periods of galloping before slowing down again. My stallion was soon covered in a sheen of sweat, but he was nowhere near spent. We were making good headway.

We eventually stopped to let our horses drink, I was breathing fast and sat down for a rest, and I was actually used to riding. I wondered how Wynne and Alistair put up with it. Then I remembered losing another half-pint of blood. Alistair did complain about sore muscles, though. I took the opportunity to devour a piece of dried meat and refill my canteen. I advised Wynne and Alistair to do the same.

After a brief rest, we were back on the road. We rode until evening, only stopping to let the horses drink. We didn’t bother setting up tents when night fell. We were exhausted. Wynne build a fire while I tended to the horses with Alistair. After a simple meal of bread, dried meat, and apples, we spread out our bedrolls. Wynne and Alistair took watch, I desperately needed to sleep. My battered body was tired and heavy. They watched over me as I slept fitfully without Asher by my side. I had left him with the rest of the group. If something happened, he would be able to find me and bring me back. The nightmares were worse without my big slobbery dog by my side. But Alistair’s presence made for a good substitute, gently comforting me whenever I awoke with a shock, breathing fast and sweating. He wasn’t as finely tuned to the signs of my nightmares as my Mabari but he was there when I woke up every time, never skipping a beat.

Thankfully, we didn’t have any encounters. We made it to the docks before noon the next day.

The ferryman took us across and we sought out First Enchanter Irving. We found him in the great hall, speaking to ser Gregoir.   
“Warden, a pleasure to see you again,” Irving shook my hand.   
“Good to see you too First Enchanter. Pardon my forwardness, but we are here to ask for your help. A boy in Redcliffe, the Arl’s son, has been possessed by a demon. We need your help to perform a ritual to kill the demon in the Fade.”

Irving nodded, “you intend to send another mage into the Fade, then. I trust you have someone willing to do this. I shall make arrangements immediately.” I thanked him from the bottom of my heart. I knew it was a lot to ask, and Irving had agreed to help immediately, never even thinking about it. Without further delay, we left the tower and returned to land. After a quick meal at the inn, we left to return to Redcliffe.

* * *

We rode all night, returning to find Bann Teagan anxiously waiting for us with First Enchanter Irving. I don’t know how he made it there that fast, didn’t care either, I was just happy he made it so quickly. Without further ado, we got on with the ritual.

I briefly spoke to Morrigan before we got started.   
“Tell me, why is it that you wish to send me instead of Wynne?” she asked curiously.   
“Wynne may be powerful, but she is also Wynne,” I replied.   
“What do you mean?”   
“She is a healer first and foremost, you on the other hand, specialize in the more lethal kinds of magic. I want that demon dead, not lectured,” I replied, Morrigan grinned at that.

“As you wish, I will see it done.”   
“Thank you, Morrigan. Return to us safely.” She nodded, and got ready. Irving, several other mages, and Jowan got the ritual started, and Morrigan was transferred into the Fade.

Meaning she passed out.

I put my cloak under her head and watched over her as we waited. Meanwhile Wynne tried to convince me to rest, but I refused. She settled for treating my wound with the numbing poultice again. I politely refused the stronger painkiller she had used on me earlier, I wanted to stay clear headed. Morrigan was sent into the Fade on my command, if anything were to go wrong… I would handle it myself.

Half an hour went by before Morrigan’s eyes snapped open. Her eyes found mine as she got up.   
“It is done,” she announced, “the demon within Connor has been destroyed.” Isolde went to her knees, crying and thanking the Maker. Morrigan reminded her that the Maker had not taken any part in this.

“Where is Connor now?” I asked Teagan. He pointed me to the Arl’s private chambers where I found Connor slumped over against a wall. I checked his pulse, and looked for any signs he had been hurt. He was breathing steadily and displayed signs of exhaustion. He was unconscious but seemed fine otherwise. Isolde came after me and ran to her son. She cradled him in her arms, sobbing and thanking the Maker again.

I left her to it.

* * *

“It appears Connor has no memory of what transpired since his father fell ill,” Teagan said while pouring Alistair and me a glass of wine. Our companions had retreated to the guest chambers to rest.   
“I hope it stays that way…” I mumbled.   
“It is for the best… He wasn’t in control, the demon could have made him commit all manner of atrocities and he would have been powerless to stop it,” Alistair added.   
Teagan nodded, “you did something extraordinary here Warden, I don’t think anyone could have done any better than you did.”   
I gave him a tired smile as I took my glass from him, “we were lucky, there were no encounters on the road and Irving didn’t hesitate to come to our aid for a moment. If we hadn’t gone to the tower before we came here, we would have found it crawling with abominations, blood mages, and demons.”

“Even so, you did more for us than we ever could have asked,” Teagan replied.   
“What will happen to Isolde?” Alistair asked.   
“I think it is best to let Eamon make that decision…” Teagan replied.   
“If he wakes up,” I added quietly. Teagan nodded again.   
“She has retreated to her chambers for now, I don’t think she will be making any more trouble. Neither will Connor.”

I shook my head, “those two are the perfect example of why you can never take magic lightly. Isolde should have known the risks. I don’t blame Connor, but if Isolde had not done what she did… I don’t think she feels responsible for what happened to all the people down in the village, and the castle staff… she still blames Jowan. And while I might not be rooting for a maleficar, it is likely things would have turned out the same even if he hadn’t been here. The Arl would have been poisoned by someone else and Connor would have made the same deal… eventually…” I trailed off. Fatigue was finally starting to catch up to me.

Alistair and Teagan remained quiet, no doubt entertaining dark thoughts of their own.

“What are we going to do about the Arl?” I asked, “I heard rumours that Isolde had sent knights to look for the Urn of Sacred Ashes?” I looked at Teagan expectantly. We had gone through a lot of trouble to save Redcliffe and make an ally, I intended to see it through.

Teagan briefly told us what he knew. The Urn of Sacred Ashes contained the remains of the holy prophet, Andraste, supposedly it could cure any illness. Isolde had been funding the research of a brother Genitivi, in Denerim. She had thought it was the only hope of saving the Arl. It had been lost for centuries of course, we couldn’t even be sure it existed. Nevertheless, we needed the Arl. Even First Enchanter Irving could not help him. If the Arl was ever going to recover, it would be through the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

Teagan proposed we that we would stay at the castle tonight and speak more of this the next day. It was more than welcome.

Some actual food, a bath, a bed to sleep in, and Alistair to warm it. I wanted nothing more. The castle was understaffed of course, but the remaining staff were more than willing to make us comfortable. So I asked for a bath to be drawn and retreated. Servants had left soaps and scented oils for me to choose from. They also offered to clean my armor and clothes. They would bring me a clean set of clothes to wear to dinner.

I let them pamper me a bit, I was a highborn Lady after all. I stripped naked, took off my bandages and got into the water. The water in the tub felt wonderful, it was hot. I had almost forgotten what that felt like. I took my time to wash off all the blood and gore that I had picked up in the last few days.

My hair was like black ink in the water. I watched it swirl around my shoulders as I lay back in the tub. Gathering my thoughts and organizing them.

Either we continued with our plan to go to Orzammar, or we went in the opposite direction, to Denerim. To find brother Genitivi. I was tempted to just go to Orzammar, as the Urn of Sacred Ashes might as well be a fool’s errand. I briefly considered splitting up my party, but dismissed the idea quickly. It wouldn’t help to spread ourselves thin. My trip to the tower of Magi and back with Alistair and Wynne had been an exception. And it had just been convenient to have my companions stay behind to maintain the situation while taking only Wynne and Alistair with me allowed for fast travel.

In the choice between Orzammar and Denerim however, things were not so simple. With Orzammar, we at least knew where it was, the urn, we would have to find first. And it was in the opposite direction of Denerim, where Loghain would be. Going there would be risky. Loghain would have to be dealt with sooner or later but I had been hoping to at least have the Arl of Redcliffe on my side by then. He had the political connections we needed to oppose Loghain.

A knock came at the door.   
“Who is it?” I asked.   
“Guess,” I heard Alistair call from the other side.   
“Door is open,” I called back.

Alistair grinned when he saw me naked in the tub.   
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.   
“I could use a bottle of wine but I’m very content with my current comforts,” I replied.   
“I’ll bet,” Alistair said, he leaned in to kiss me and sat down on the edge of the tub.

“I wanted to thank you, things turned out rather well, considering the circumstances,” he said.   
“Don’t thank me, Alistair, you would have done the exact same thing if you were in my shoes.”   
He shook his head, “I’m not so sure, before Jowan told us of the ritual… Your choices have led us to the best possible outcome.”

I reached for Alistair’s hand, “you would have done what was needed, Alistair. Don’t beat yourself up for that.”   
I moved so I could look him in his eyes, “you are a good man, a man of honour and duty, you would have done the right thing. Don’t let anybody tell you any different, including that little voice in the back of your head.” I smiled at him, “are you joining me tonight? Or do we need to keep up appearances for Teagan and Isolde?”

That earned me a smile in return, “of course I’ll join you,” he said, “I could not care less about what Isolde thinks of me and Teagan might stop hitting on you, I need to claim my woman.”   
“I like the sound of that,” I said softly and bit my lip as I leaned in for another kiss.   
“You are incorrigible,” Alistair laughed after the kiss broke, “when will you learn to control your urges?” he asked playfully.   
“When it comes to you? Never,” I replied.   
“I have half a mind to teach you a lesson,” Alistair said playfully.   
“Only half? I’m disappointed,” I said, and Alistair chuckled.

I rose from the tub, my hair clung to my skin and droplets of water ran down my body. I let Alistair take in the sight of me. My body showed all the tell-tale signs of a fighter’s life, bruises, scrapes, old wounds, and scars. But my body was also lean and strong, and yet curved in all the right places.   
“Maker’s breath, you are beautiful,” Alistair whispered as he looked up to me standing in the tub. I smiled as I carefully stepped out of the tub and reached for a towel. He watched me as I dried myself off, and grabbed my wrist when I moved to put some clothes on.   
I gave him a sly smile, “more than half a mind then?”

He pulled me close to kiss me, the fire in his eyes said it all.   
“What was it you said about sex after a long battle?” he whispered in my ear.   
“There is nothing like it,” I replied.

Suddenly he picked me up and carried me to the bed. He was taking control again, showing the dominant side of him that he hid so well. I was encouraging it, challenging him. And he loved it. I tugged at his shirt as he put me down, he took it off for me. Next went his pants, I pulled him down onto the bed and sat on top of him. Slowly kissing his neck and chest, this time _I_ was going to make _him_ wait. When he moved to grab hold of my hips, I took his hands and pushed them down above his head.

“Slowly,” I whispered in his ear, “I want to take my time to enjoy you.” He didn’t obey, instead attempting to flip me over and roll on top of me. I pushed him down, kissing him hard. He reciprocated but he was still impatient. I felt his fingers dig down in the flesh of my hips again, moving me to where he wanted me. He thrust up into me, making me gasp. I looked down at him, putting my hands on his chest as I slowly rode him.

“And you say that _I_ have no self-control,” I taunted him with a smile as I held his gaze. Still moving my hips in a slow circular motion. I grabbed hold of his jaw as I kissed him again, devouring him.

He attempted to roll me over a second time, but I shook off his grasp. “No,” I grunted firmly as I continued to ride him. Slowly increasing my pace. I ran my fingers through the hair on the back of his head, and took a firm hold. Pulling his head back, exposing his throat to me. I ran the tip of my tongue from his neck up to his chin before kissing him again. If he wanted to dominate me, he would have to try harder.

Alistair moved with me in perfect synchrony, his breathing was fast and ragged. He wrapped his arms around my waist again, taking me with him as he sat up. His face buried in between my breasts. I gasped when I felt his tongue on my nipple, then yelped as he bit down. I pulled his head back by his hair again and forced him to look up at me.

“No biting!” I growled at him, before kissing him again. Our movements were coming increasingly fast, breathing faster still.

Finally I let Alistair roll me over, he bit down on my shoulder and fucked me hard and fast. I moaned louder, I could have sworn my eyes rolled back in my skull from sheer pleasure. I dug my fingernails into his back as I felt that familiar tension built in my body again. Alistair’s kept it up, the tension rose. I cried out his name at its breaking point, I felt Alistair reach his climax with me, spilling hot seed inside of me. We rode the waves of pleasure together, slowly coming to a stop.

“Good god…” I panted, he looked at me with a smile. “You think anybody heard that?” I asked.   
“Certainly, but I’m not complaining,” he replied.   
“Well then, consider ‘your woman’ claimed,” I said, he chuckled and rolled off of me.   
“Learned your lesson?”   
“Nope,” I replied and Alistair let out another chuckle.

“We should probably get dressed, dinner will be ready soon…” He remained quiet for a moment.

“Fela?”

“Hmm?” I had been drifting off to sleep already.   
“Good god, woman. Try to stay awake this time,” he laughed, “how do you always fall right asleep after sex?”   
“How do you not?” I countered and yawned. Another chuckle, and a kiss.   
“I thought women always wanted to talk after sex and that is was men who fall asleep,” he said.

“Either that’s a stereotype or you just admitted you’re the girl in this relationship,” I teased.   
“Right, and you’re the guy,” he said mock scathingly, "with _those_ tits."   
“You wouldn’t be the first to tell me that I’m ‘such a guy’, I just take it as a compliment, even if it implies an insult,” I smiled and got up to take a look at the clothes the servants had left for me. I was pleased to find a fine dress of black silk and soft leather boots. The undergarments didn’t provide much support for my breasts, but they served to create a luscious cleavage.

Alistair watched me dress slowly, and put my hair up. I moved over to the vanity to apply make-up and almost felt like my old self again. Dabbing my lips with dark red paint and accentuating my eyes with coal. My Grey Warden’s pendant rested on my breasts, shimmering a deep red in the candlelight. Lady Fela Cousland stared back at me from the mirror, prim posture and a proud look in her eyes. The dress flattered my figure, accentuating my breasts with a deep neckline. The sleeves ran down all the way to my wrists, covering all my scrapes and bruises. It fit snugly around my waist and the skirt hung loosely around my legs. I turned to present myself to Alistair, who looked at me with a smile.

“You are beautiful, my love,” he spoke softly. I blushed, and gave a shy smile.

Alistair got dressed quickly, he looked comfortable in a nobleman’s cloths. I guessed, to him, they must be, compared to wearing heavy armor every day. He walked with confidence and offered me his arm, smoothly, like he had been doing it for years. He guided me to the dining hall where most of our companions had already gathered.

“Have you ever seen a more attractive couple in your life?” Zevran asked Leliana in a stage whisper, “emphasis on ‘couple’, it would be a _gorgeous_ three-way,” he added in his Antivan accent. Wynne scolded him, but he just laughed and downed his wine.

“This is a fine evening my friends, let us celebrate our recent… achievements,” he raised his now empty cup, “especially you, Alistair,” he said with a wink. Leliana burst out laughing and moved to refill Zevran’s cup, “let’s not forget Fela herself, it sounded like one amazing orgasm.”

 _“Leliana!”_ I muttered in surprise, then joined the laughter.

I looked at Alistair who just stood blushing deeply, “you should take that as a compliment,” I said to him with a sly smile.   
“Well, you two have a head start on getting drunk, I see,” Alistair said as he motioned for a cup of wine, Leliana poured it for him.   
“Thank you kindly, as you may imagine, I must rehydrate,” he added dryly, causing another fit of laughter at the table. Alistair pulled out a chair for me and sat down in his own with a smile. Good save, Alistair.

Teagan stared at our party dumbfounded. He leaned towards Alistair to ask him a question, “are they always this… amicable?” Alistair grinned, “most of the time, I think it’s their way of making up for their more bloodthirsty personality traits.”   
“Indeed, my friend!” Zevran called, “no need for formalities, we fought together and we bled together, I say that makes us friends, you included.”   
Bann Teagan laughed a deep rolling belly laugh, “you are correct, my elven friend. I for one am glad be to in such good company.” Zevran and Teagan knocked their cups together and drank deeply.

Teagan then turned to Alistair and me

“I would pardon my forwardness, but our dear friends have set the bar quite low for this evening. Tell me, how long have you two been together?” I smiled and took a drink of wine before answering.   
“Not long, we only met on the day of the battle of Ostagar. We got together a little while after that, just before we cleared out the tower of Magi.”   
“Ah yes, Ostagar,” Teagan said with a dark look, “Loghain…” I nodded.

“You were the only surviving Wardens then?” Teagan asked.   
I nodded again, “as far as we know. I would tell you how we did it, but you’d never believe me.” And just like that, I had steered the conversation away from our relationship.

Teagan was eager to hear about the battle, we had seen what happened and tried our best to tell him all we knew. Teagan had already suspected Loghain of having betrayed the King, our story confirmed his suspicions. He told us how he had stood up against Loghain, asking him about his retreat, which he had called, ‘most fortuitous’. I was very pleased to hear a nobleman openly criticize Loghain. I told Teagan as much.

“But tell me, how did you escape?” Teagan asked eagerly. I looked at Alistair.   
“I think we should ask Morrigan to explain some of the details. It wasn’t so much an escape as it was a rescue, by none other than Flemeth.”

Alistair nodded, the wine had been flowing freely, which made Morrigan and Alistair more tolerable to each other. I called Morrigan over, she had been sitting at the other end of the table with Sten. Quietly sipping her wine and observing the rest of us. Sten was playing with Asher, which had nothing to do with wine.

Morrigan made her way over, letting Teagan eye her up and down. Normally she would verbally murder any man who did that, perhaps the wine had softened her. The wine had certainly softened Teagan’s etiquette.

“The mage who saved my nephew,” he spoke with a slight slur, “you are as beautiful as you are brave.”

I leaned back a bit, waiting for Morrigan’s sharp tongue to cut Teagan to shreds. Much to my surprise, she smiled and let him kiss her hand. I thought she hated all the touching!?

The look in my eyes must have betrayed my thoughts to Alistair, who had a fit of laughter. Morrigan glared at him.

“I’m sorry,” Alistair said while wiping tears from his eyes, “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just, look at Fela’s face.” He managed to speak through his laughter. I immediately put on a toothy smile, hoping Morrigan would not gut me on the spot.   
Instead she laughed, “you have had too much wine my friend,” she said to me and sat down on the chair Teagan pulled up for her.   
“Now, what do you wish of me?”

I asked her to explain to Teagan how Flemeth had rescued us from the tower. Teagan hung on Morrigan’s every word as she told the tale.

“To think one such as Flemeth would step in to secure our chances of stopping the Blight… She is not so bad as the stories make her out to be is she?” Teagan mused.   
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. But she has her moments,” Morrigan looked at me, “what about your mother, Fela? Not all are abominations of legend, ‘tis true. But I find myself curious?”

I smiled and sipped my wine, “she had been on a six year crusade to find me a husband and worried I was getting ‘too old’. Parading me around Ferelden, setting up dates and trying to find a good match. I refused them all… but, I loved her, and I know she loved me. She died recently,” I said.   
“Ah, mothers, for all their faults, nothing can ever compete with a mother’s love,” Teagan slurred as moved to refill his cup.

I fell quiet for a moment as my thoughts wandered to Isolde. She had messed up worse than I thought humanly possible, and yet, she did it because she loved her son. Her intentions were good, her actions were… Ill-advised, to say the least. The crazy bitch nearly got an entire town of people killed, including her son and husband. All in an attempt to save him. It was selfish of her, of course, and yet I understood. Such was my burden to bear.

“More wine, then?” I asked and reached for the bottle.   
Alistair laughed, “ah, we’re a sorry lot when it comes to our mothers. We either lost them, never had them, or, in Morrigan’s case, call an abomination of legend ’mother’.”   
I chuckled at Alistair’s remark, “I do miss her, and maybe the parading too… just a little,” I said.   
“Well I for one think it’s a shame your mother never paraded you in front of me, now Alistair got to you first,” Bann Teagan blurted out.

Morrigan and Alistair stared death at him.

I laughed, “look at them agreeing, it’s adorable.” Their death stares turned to me, I raised my hands in defence.   
“Hey, remember who those scowls are meant for. I am merely making an observation. You remind me of bickering siblings sometimes, reminds me of home,” I said.   
“Well that would make your relationship with Alistair a rather awkward one, then. Tell me, are you our mother or our sister in this picture?” Morrigan purred with a sweet smile, it send shivers down my spine.   
“I’m gonna go and say, neither. And just so you know, it’s perfectly natural for people to seek out others who share the same personality traits as their loved ones. See what I did there? I just turned that into a compliment, you remind me of my loved ones, it’s nice. I’m glad to have you,” I said smugly, and honestly.

Alistair chuckled, “there is no arguing with her, don’t even bother. Her tongue is pure sterling silver. Do you not see the horns peeking out through her hair?” he said with a wide grin.   
I shrugged, “you forgot to mention that I am also a bloodthirsty, dual-wielding devil covered in darkspawn blood. It adds to my persuasive nature. The horns were new though, what did I do to earn those?”   
“You put on that dress,” Alistair explained.   
“Is that all? What would I have to do to earn a tail?”   
“Take it off,” he grinned and raised an eyebrow.   
“Ah, see, your logic is flawed. Or perhaps your memory, you do recall seeing me naked, putting on said dress? Or did the events prior to that cause some form of amnesia?” The wine had erased all boundaries, we were shamelessly flirting in front of our companions.

“See what I mean?” Alistair asked Teagan and Morrigan, “impossible,” he said as he motioned to me. I smiled sweetly, a little smug about my victory.   
“She’s just far more clever than you ‘brother dearest,’ your shameful display proves nothing,” Morrigan said sweetly.   
“Glad to disappoint, I’m sure it won’t be the last time,” Alistair said happily.

“You guys are good folk,” Teagan slurred, “good times,” he burst out laughing and lounged back in his chair. One leg over its armrest.   
“I’m glad you two got together, I want you to know that. Eamon will most likely disagree, but what does he know, look at his choice for a wife. You stick together, you’ll do great things. You’ll make a good royal couple.”

“ _Royal_?” Morrigan hissed under her breath.   
“Teagan you babbling drunk!” Alistair scolded. Bann Teagan started mumbling an apology but he was so drunk it was mostly unintelligible. Morrigan gave me a questioning look, I sighed and looked at Alistair.

“No sense in denying it to you now,” Alistair began as he turned to look at Morrigan, “my father was King Maric. Making me a royal bastard. I was keeping it quiet because I don’t like how people treat me once they find out,” he explained.   
“She found out,” Morrigan said pointing to me.   
“That’s different,” Alistair said, putting a hand on my knee.   
“Look, it’s not meant as an insult or anything. It’s just not something you tell everyone you know. Especially with a guy like Loghain seizing the throne and putting a price on your head.”

“Very well, I will keep your secret,” Morrigan said calmly.   
Alistair paused, “just like that?” he asked.   
“Just like that,” she affirmed.   
“Thank you, Morrigan,” he said honestly. She nodded at him.

“That went well,” Teagan blurted out, “I think I shall retire, too much wine. I might start spilling more of Alistair’s secrets.” Bann Teagan grinned and moved to take his leave.   
“Hold on,” Morrigan said, “don’t leave now, I am learning all these new things!”   
Bann Teagan smiled a charming smile, “perhaps you should join me for a nightcap, then, I can share more.”

Yeah, right.

Morrigan accepted the invitation. I didn’t blame her, Bann Teagan was handsome, even if he was drunk off his ass. She bid us goodnight, I wished her a good time.

“One more round?” I asked Alistair after Morrigan and Teagan left.   
“Wine? Or sex?” Alistair asked quietly with a dangerous smile.   
I pretended to give it a moment of consideration, “both? I can do both.”   
“Let’s take the bottle,” Alistair whispered before kissing me deeply.   
“I always wondered what drunken sex would be like,” he whispered into my ear.   
“Clumsy and giggly, but so much fun,” I replied.

He handed me the bottle, picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. “I am claiming my woman,” he announced to the others before taking off with me.

They were cheering when we left the dining hall.


	16. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group makes a decision and gets back on the road, this time to Denerim. Wynne shares her opinion on Fela and Alistair's relationship, and Zevran is supportive.

I awoke early the next morning, my head throbbed and my throat felt like I had swallowed a mouthful of sand.

Alistair was next to me, he was twitching and mumbling in his sleep. I put my hand on his cheek and whispered his name to wake him up. His eyes snapped open, and he looked at me in confusion.

“You were having a nightmare,” I whispered, then kissed him gently. He stretched and wrapped his arms around me.   
“And now I am hung over,” he mumbled.   
“Yeah… Me too…” I mumbled back, “we had fun though,” I grinned, earning a chuckle from Alistair.   
“Yes we did, I think it did all of us much good,” he said.

“You even played nice with Morrigan yesterday, I am proud of you,” I told him in a soft and playful voice.   
“Well there was a lot of wine involved, and truth be told, she was kind of nice yesterday. I mean she was still _her_. You know, cold, menacing, looking like she is planning to eat your sweetmeats for dinner after roasting them over a fire. But nicer than usual.”   
I laughed quietly, “she went off with Bann Teagan, we’ll be able to tell how that went by her mood,” I said with a wicked grin.   
“Let’s hope it improved her general demeanor,” Alistair said dryly.

We spend the early morning chatting away idly, recovering from our night of heavy drinking. I called for a servant to draw me a bath, I wanted to take advantage of that particular luxury. Alistair joined me in the tub, making it a rather pleasant morning. We had our breakfast delivered to the room, neither of us felt like ruining this rare moment of peace just yet. We had lazy hang-over sex after a light breakfast, before getting dressed and ready to go. It was time to make a decision, we would either go to Orzammar, or to Denerim.

My companions looked reasonably well rested, a night of comfort at Redcliffe castle had reinvigorated them. We discussed our next course of action, and after a long period of bickering, we decided to go to Denerim. As soon as we hit a dead end on Genitivi’s trail, we would abandon the mission and head for Orzammar. Sten and Morrigan disagreed of course, Zevran stated he didn’t care so long as he could stare at my ass. But Wynne and Leliana had made some good points from a political standpoint. I would need allies in the city of Denerim, and while I looked for Genitivi, Leliana could do some reconnaissance. She needed to size up the current political climate in order to gather information.

With Eamon still in a coma, it was all we could do for now. We took off after saying our goodbyes to Bann Teagan. Isolde and Connor remained absent. I didn’t think too much of it, they had gone through some epic shit. But I did delight in some of Morrigan’s sharp remarks on the subject. After gathering some supplies and picking up my now restored armor, we were on the road again.

The road to Denerim was long, but thankfully it was still reasonably safe. That meant time to heal my wounds. We spent about five uneventful days on the road before we found Levi Dryden. Or rather, he found us.

He had an interesting tale to share, his family was connected to the Grey Wardens, in fact he had played a large role in bringing them back to Ferelden. And he knew Duncan. He told us about an old Grey Warden fort; Soldier’s Peak. He wanted to reclaim it in order to clear his family’s name. One of his ancestors had been a Warden Commander, the last one before Duncan actually, and she had been branded a traitor. Duncan had apparently promised Levi to help him reclaim the fort, this was all long before the battle at Ostagar of course, Duncan was lost to us now.

But the prospect of an entire Grey Warden fort was a tempting one. We might find supplies, more information, who knew. I agreed to investigate the fort when I was in the area. I couldn’t make any promises, of course. Levi understood, one abandoned fort meant little if the Blight could not be stopped, but it might hold some answers for us. He marked a specific mountain pass on our map, promising us he would wait there.

Alistair and I discussed Soldier’s Peak, he had heard of it before but never went there. It was lost to the Wardens a long time ago.

“Think about what we might find there, books, journals, scrolls… There might be a wealth of knowledge there. And supplies too,” Alistair said, he was excited. He did study history after all, to him the fort might as well hold treasure.

“It sounds rather promising doesn’t it…” I mused. “But we can’t let ourselves be distracted every time a new opportunity or call for help comes up. We’d end up just running around Ferelden, never reaching a destination,” I added. Alistair nodded.   
“Let’s just get to Denerim first, see if we can find a lead on brother Genitivi’s whereabouts.”   
“Amongst other things,” I said cheerfully. “What do you mean?” Alistair asked.   
“I told you, Leliana can do some recon, we can get supplies, that sort of thing,” I replied.   
“Well, there is one other thing I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, don’t worry, nothing major,” Alistair said, slightly apprehensive.   
I chuckled, “just tell me.”

“Well, you remember I told you that my mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe castle, yes?” I nodded.   
“She died during childbirth, but I always wondered about her. So, when I joined the Grey Wardens, I started to investigate. And as it turns out, she had a daughter,” Alistair continued.   
“Meaning you have a sister,” I concluded.   
“Half-sister, but yes. I tracked her down, her name is Goldanna. She lives in Denerim, in the market district just outside of the alienage.”

I nodded, “I remember, you were dreaming about her in the Fade.”   
“I was? I don’t recall… You did your empath thing again didn’t you?” he asked me with a sly smile.   
“No, no. I just remember the illusion that the sloth demon tailored for you. You were very happy, she was preparing dinner and there was a bunch of kids running around. The role of ‘uncle Alistair’ suited you. You were very reluctant to leave. I had to convince you to believe I was the only thing that was real. You really don’t remember any of that?” I asked.   
“No… strange… Maybe it’s like regular dreams, often we don’t remember them when we wake up.”   
I shrugged, “could be, but anyway, you want to see if we can find her in Denerim?”

Alistair looked at me with a hopeful look in his eyes. “Can we? Are you sure? Won’t it get in the way of other things we need to be doing there?”   
“I think I can delegate,” I said, “but Alistair?”   
“Yes?” “Don’t expect too much, she has never even known you. You can’t know how she will react,” I said softly.

He nodded, but I could tell my words didn't really land with him. I let it go for now, I would have to let him think about it on his own for a bit.

We stopped to make camp not long after that conversation. Alistair helped me nurse my wound as always. Most of my stitches had already been removed by Wynne, I only bore stitches on the wound I had torn open when we fought the walking dead in Redcliffe.

“You’re healing quickly,” Alistair said as he removed the bandage and then proceeded to remove the long piece of cloth I used to support my breasts. The bandages no longer covered my entire torso, but my make-shift brassiere did cover some of the older wounds.

“How do you even put this thing on in the morning,” Alistair complained as he unwrapped it.   
I grinned, “years of experience, having a pair of boobs is all fine and dandy but I prefer them strapped close to my body when I need to fight.”   
“I do imagine they might get in the way,” Alistair said, briefly cupping one and kissing my shoulder.   
“It’s not that they get in the way, it’s that they can get rather tender after a day of bouncing around under my armor. Which doesn’t offer much support in itself. It’s a major flaw when it comes to women’s armor. Very few armorers do more than leave room for your tits, and it’s often too little.”

Alistair gave me a boyish grin, “yours do tend to peek out of your armor a bit,” he started cleaning the last open wound on my back.   
“Especially when you bend over,” he added.  
“And you say _I_ am incorrigible,” I replied.   
“Can you blame me?” he asked innocently.   
“Nah,” I said while getting up again and turning my head back for a kiss.

“I _really_ wish we had more privacy,” Alistair whispered in my ear while wrapping his arms around my bare torso and pulling me back against himself.   
“Me too,” I replied softly. Alistair had gotten into the habit of removing his armor whenever we made camp, it allowed me to lean into his chest rather than a metal breastplate.   
“When this is all over, you know the constant battles, brushes with death, dismembering darkspawn, and all that. Do you think you’ll miss it?” he asked softly.   
I chuckled, “yes, it makes me tear up just thinking about it.”

Alistair let out a quiet laugh, “when this is all over… There will be time to start thinking about having a home again…” I nodded quietly.   
“Are you asking me what I plan to do when this is all over?” I asked softly. Alistair nodded.   
“Hard to say… I haven’t given it much thought to be honest. I was just assuming I would go where ever you go. You know, if we survive,” I said honestly.   
“Good answer,” Alistair whispered in my ear.

“Let’s get back out there, before they start assuming things,” he said as he released me and kissed my cheek. I got dressed again and crawled out after Alistair.

My companions were going about their regular business with an air of comfort. Everyone knew their tasks, I didn’t need to give any orders anymore. Wynne had a fire burning, Zevran was off hunting, Sten had gone off to look for vegetables with Asher, and Leliana and Morrigan were discussing what they could do with the supplies we still had left. It didn’t look like I was needed anywhere. So I wandered off again.

I found a nice spot near a stream. The ground was covered in soft moss and it gave me a view of the water. I didn’t get a lot of time to myself though. Soon Wynne emerged from the trees and asked if she could join me, I gestured for her to sit next to me.   
“There is something I have been meaning to speak to you about,” Wynne started.   
“Go ahead,” I replied.

This was part of my job, whenever one of my companions had a problem, they came to me.   
“I’ve been watching your blossoming relationship with Alistair, and I was wondering where you thought it was going.”

 _Crap_.

I sighed, I had noticed her disapproving looks. This conversation had to happen sooner or later.

“Are you asking me if I am serious about this? Or if this is just a fling?” I asked.   
Wynne nodded, “Alistair is a fine lad, skilled in battle. But somewhat inexperienced when it comes to matters of the heart. I would hate to see him get hurt,” she replied.

“Funny, why do I get the feeling you did not ask the same question of Alistair?” I asked with a dark look. Wynne ignored my last statement.   
“You are Grey Wardens, you have a duty to all of Ferelden. But love is ultimately selfish, it requires you to be devoted to one person entirely. What happens when you are forced to choose between your duties as Grey Wardens, and each other?”   
I gave Wynne a flat look, “do you honestly think I haven’t thought about that?” I had been struggling with this topic myself, to have Wynne lecture me about it just allowed me to project all my fears and frustrations surrounding this particular matter on her.

“There is a lot more to Alistair than you think Wynne,” I said calmly, “you shouldn’t presume to know him.” I was determined not to lose my temper, even if it was flaring at the moment.   
“Even so, there is great potential for tragedy here,” Wynne began but I interrupted her.   
“There is great potential for tragedy here no matter what we do. What do you suggest, that I inflict pain now so that it can be avoided later? Are you telling me to leave him? Because you’ve got another thing coming,” I spoke with strained calmness now.

“And what would that be?” Wynne asked.   
“I am not leaving him,” I said firmly, “he is not just some pretty thing to warm my bed, he’s more than one of the two remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden. If it hadn’t been for Alistair I would have been dead a hundred times over. When I came to Ostagar after losing my family, it was Alistair who picked up the pieces and put me back together. It’s Alistair who guides me through the transition of the Taint, who soothes me when I wake up screaming, it’s _Alistair_ who speaks with the voice of reason when I need him to. Don’t you _dare_ judge what is between us! You don’t know the first thing about us.”

I left Wynne to chew on that for a bit. If I stayed much longer I would definitely lose my temper. That last outburst was enough.

I went to find a new spot for a moment of solitude, farther away from camp. Wynne had rattled my cage, this time, I didn’t want to be found. After walking for about half an hour, I stopped and sat down on a fallen tree. I wept, quietly and alone. Not because Wynne had suggested that I should leave Alistair, I had already made up my mind. It was not happening. I wept because of the uncertainty, because all of my worries had joined together in a vortex of anxiety, pain, and sadness. As angry as I was with Wynne, she was not entirely wrong. And she was not even aware of Alistair’s heritage, I was afraid I would lose him to the throne. Assuming we lived for that long.

“Ah, my Ferelden rose, what troubles you so?” Zevran’s voice came from nearby.

 _Damnit!_ Just a little solitude, was it that much to ask?

“Zevran,” I said quietly, “I did not realise you were in this area.” He approached and sat down next to me.   
“Neither did the pheasants I shot,” he held up the birds proudly,   
“You are obviously troubled, perhaps if you confide in me, I can offer some advice or comfort,” he offered.   
“No offense, Zevran, but you’re not very good with boundaries,” I replied.

“So I’ve been told,” he said, “the thing is, that is a choice and not a disposition. I pledged my loyalty to you, let me support you. I promise to refrain from flirting.”   
I sighed, “still though, some of the things that are on my mind are not mine to share.”   
“Then let’s talk about the other things on your mind,” he replied. I remained quiet for a moment, organizing my thoughts.

“This is about, Alistair, is it not?” Zevran asked. I nodded, still unsure if Zevran was the right person to talk to about this.

“Ah, well, I can’t imagine he did something to upset you on purpose, he worships you,” Zevran said reassuringly. I looked up at him, slightly taken aback.   
“Uh, yeah… I mean… No, he didn’t do anything wrong.”   
“What is it then?” Zevran asked, I was still expecting him to make some clever remark. He didn’t.

“Well, just look at the situation we are currently in. We are in the middle of stopping the fifth Blight. I joined the Grey Wardens on the day they were all slaughtered at Ostagar. Alistair is only six months my senior. We have three treaties to pursue, in order to gather an army. But it won’t be enough. We need all of Ferelden, but Loghain has instigated civil war and put prices on our heads. The land is tearing itself apart. And look at what we are doing, we just came from the tower of Magi, which has been practically annihilated. Then we went to Redcliffe, which was also nearly annihilated. And now we are tracking a man who thought he had a lead on some mythical vase with a dead woman inside, because the Arl of Redcliffe, our _only_ noble ally, has been poisoned by Loghain. Our chances of survival are incredibly slim, and our chances for success even more so. We are stumbling around in the dark.” I was still organizing my thoughts as I spoke.

“Yes, I am aware of all this. Are you afraid Alistair will get killed? He is a very capable warrior you know, I don’t think you need to worry about him,” Zevran offered consolingly.   
“No, not about him being a capable warrior,” I affirmed.   
“What then?” Zevran asked, “have we arrived at the information that is not yours to give?” I nodded.

“Alright, I am going to talk now, and you don’t have to respond. That way you will not give me any information you shouldn’t. I suspect Alistair has already spoken to me about this, although he was purposely being vague about it. Let me tell you what I think, I hope it will help, sound good?” I nodded. I was still a little wary of this honest and serious side of Zevran. It seemed he truly cared.

“A while ago, Alistair was asking me about Kings in Antiva. Since he refused to ask me anything specific, I just gave him the basics. In Antiva, there is constant squabbling over power and the throne. Making it a good place for business when you are an assassin. There is always someone to plot and scheme in order to usurp the throne. In fact, our royal line is one of royal bastards. The popular ones never last long, their popularity is envied you see. One cannot have another outshine them,” Zevran stopped for a moment. I looked at him expectantly.

“Here is what I believe is going on, Alistair _does_ know who his father is. And it is likely that he will have to take up some sort of position after the war. Now, seeing as he was asking about Antivan Kings, and not Antivan noblemen, I suspect our favourite almost-Templar-on-the-loose might be a bastard prince.” I kept my face as blank as I could as Zevran spoke.

“And this is where it gets complicated for someone in your position. If I am right, and Alistair is indeed a bastard prince, he will likely take the throne. He will never surrender it to Loghain and his daughter, he hates the man far too much for that. Alistair himself has little interest in ruling. Even so, he cannot allow the man who killed his brethren to sit pretty in a fancy chair and rule. Which would explain why he was also inquiring about the choices in marriage that these Antivan King often make. Whether they be political, or for love, whether a King keeps consorts, how the nobility responds to that, that sort of thing.”

I really needed to teach Alistair a few things about gathering information without revealing your true goal.

“So what did you tell him?” I asked Zevran.   
“I told him that a good King is one that does his job. What, or who, he does in his private chambers is of little consequence. Except if he produces a line of bastard children of course, that complicates things. But if you ask me, a happy and satisfied man makes better choices than an unhappy one. Just look at Loghain.”

I let that sink in for a bit.

“Thank you Zevran,” I finally said.   
“Any time,” he replied, “Teagan was right when he said you two need to stick together.”   
“Ah, you heard that, did you?” I asked and Zevran shrugged.   
“It was after my talk with Alistair about Antivan Kings, but hearing Teagan call you a ‘royal couple’ certainly confirmed my suspicions. And don’t forget, Fela, you are the last Cousland, heir to your father’s titles, lands, and fortune. Which can be restored. You are already making a good name for yourself, people have started calling you a hero. Your heritage alone makes you a good match, and your popularity among the people is rising. On top of that, it is clear Alistair loves you. So what in the Maker’s name are you worrying about?”

Zevran gave me a genuine smile and put a hand on my shoulder. “And if he does marry someone else, it won’t be because he wants to. And I’d gladly kill off your competition for you. It is what I do best.”

Another tear rolled down my cheek, and I gave Zevran a tired smile.

“You are a true friend, Zevran,” I said quietly.   
Zevran smiled back at me, “now I must make my way back to camp, these pheasants aren’t not going to roast themselves. I will leave you to your solitude.” He got up to leave.

“Hey, Zev, I’m glad you tried to kill me,” I said with an impish grin.  
“Really? That’s a first. But I suppose we would not have become friends if I hadn’t. I’ll meet you back at camp later,” he said with a broad smile, then turned and walked off.

I spent quite some time there sitting on that fallen tree. Zevran had put things in perspective for me again. And he had revealed that Alistair was trying to get some advice on becoming King and marriage. Even if he was being clumsy about it. It still scared me to think about marrying Alistair, it felt like I was getting way ahead of things. And I had spent a lot of time avoiding marriage.

Good thing too, I would have been sitting in some keep with screaming children running around by now. But, a King did need an heir. Which was another worry I had been avoiding. The Taint… how would it affect unborn children, would we even be able to conceive? I wasn’t particularly looking forward to becoming moody, fat, and slow. Pregnancy will do that. But to have the opportunity taken away from me… Still, there might be other ways.

I noticed that the sun was nearly setting, time to head back. I had been occupied with my thoughts for far longer than I intended. But to be fair, I did get interrupted twice. Even if the second time kind of helped.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We wrap up our little drama, it leads to smut.

The others were already eating when I returned. Zevran offered me a leg from one of the pheasants he had shot and roasted, he had been saving it for me. I thanked him and took my place next to Alistair. There were no questions asked, they were used to my habit of wandering off to be alone. Even if I had been gone for much longer than usual. I glanced at Wynne, who gave no inclination of our discussion earlier. She seemed relaxed as always, chatting away with Leliana. The rest were quietly enjoying their dinner. I observed them as I ate. Something was off. I couldn’t pin-point it. I looked at Alistair, who just gave me a quiet smile. It was reassuring, though something still felt different.

I didn’t feel like dealing with my companions any more tonight, I crawled into my tent as soon as I was done eating. Asher followed me.

“Did you have fun today, boy?” He looked back at me with intelligent eyes and wagged his tail.   
“You’re good friends with Sten, huh? I’m glad.” I pulled out my logbook and lit a candle.

For a while, I heard nothing but the soft scratching of my pen on the paper. I liked that sound, it was one of my more peculiar traits. I really enjoyed certain sounds, like a pen scratching on paper, the sound of small rocks rolling down other larger rock formations, the sound of some people’s voices, the sound of rain, the roar of flames… I never really understood it. All I knew is that there were sounds that I hated, and sounds that I liked. In between was the rest. Just sounds that I did not feel strongly about one way or another. But the sounds that I did like could be very soothing. Just like the sounds I hated could infuriate me. I couldn’t stand the sound of someone chewing with their mouth open for example, it made me want to punch them in the mouth and rip their tongue out through their teeth. I learned to control that one at an early age. But ‘pen on paper’ was nice, and I focussed on it as I wrote.

I looked up when Alistair entered the tent.

“Still busy?” he asked me and sat down across from me.   
I shook my head, “nah, this can wait.” I put down the pen, closed the bottle of ink, and crawled over to nestle myself in Alistair’s arms. The light of my single candle cast dancing shadows.

“Are you alright?” Alistair asked quietly.   
“No,” I said quietly.   
“Did something happen?”   
“I had two interesting conversations today, one with Wynne and one with Zevran. About you.” That gave Alistair pause.   
“Are you going to tell me what they said?” he asked gently.   
“Wynne felt the need to share her opinion about our relationship, I disagreed with her. And Zevran… he actually helped, without flirting, believe it or not.” Alistair looked down at me with a confused look.

“Start at the beginning.”

I sighed and began speaking quietly, I didn’t want the entire camp listening in on this.

“Wynne approached to ask me where I see our relationship going. Meaning she disapproves and believes it will stand in the way of our duties. I got mad. I pointed out that she probably never would have asked the same question of you. She went on about duty and a choice between duty and love. And I may have said it was not her place to judge us. We both know Wynne, she believes it is her place to judge anyone. She believes I should leave you now to spare you pain later.”   
“Great logic.”   
“My thoughts exactly. When I said I wasn’t going to do that I may have gotten a bit carried away.”   
“Did you yell at her?”   
“No, but I was rather strong-worded, and emotional. And I stormed off.”   
Alistair nodded, “ok, what happened next?”

“I wandered around for a while. And when I thought I had found a good place to be miserable by all myself, Zevran showed up,” I continued, “he asked me what was going on, and if it was about you. I said no, by the way. I told him you did nothing wrong. And then I explained I was having trouble with all the uncertainties we are dealing with, you know, the Blight, dying before seeing it through, civil war… And I explained that there were a few things on my mind that I probably shouldn’t share with him. So he proposed that he explain what he thought was going on and that I wouldn’t have to respond. Turns out, he figured out on his own that you are Maric’s son. He explained that he started harbouring suspicions when you asked him about Antivan monarchs, and their… life-style choices.” I gave Alistair a knowing look and he chuckled.

“Yeah, maybe that was a little obvious,” he said.

“Maybe, yes. Anyway when he heard Teagan blurt out how we would make a good royal couple he was sure,” I replied.   
Alistair raised a hand to his forehead and groaned, “so now Morrigan knows, Zevran knows, and if he knows Leliana definitely knows,” he said.   
I nodded, “probably, yes. She’s been fishing, I caught her do it a couple of times. You know, she vaguely says your background will help us make an ally out of Arl Eamon so we can oppose Loghain for the throne. Hoping I might confirm that you have a claim to it. She does that. Anyway, Zev said that we shouldn’t care what others think and stick together. A happy King is a better King, is what he basically said.”   
“Really? So maybe there is a decent guy hiding under that persona of his after all,” Alistair said quietly.   
“He also said he would gladly take out any competition for me,” I added and laughed, “and he may have mentioned that my heritage and growing reputation would work in my favour were I to be Queen. Not that I want such a position.”

“I don’t want to be King either,” Alistair said, “but if I… You know, _had_ to. I’d rather do it with you. You’re far more experienced at court than I am, and you’re a natural leader, a good judge of character, you’re decisive. I would make a terrible King, I have none of those traits. But together, we might make one decent monarch.”   
I snorted, “except for the fact that neither of us wants to.” Alistair chuckled.   
“But seriously though, you’re selling yourself short,” I began, “you are kind, good hearted, you’d put the people first. They could do a lot worse than you, you know.”   
“Like you’re not kind, good-hearted, and wouldn’t put the people first. You don’t need me as your moral compass,” Alistair countered.   
“That’s not what I mean, people relax around you, you bond easily with others. That inspires loyalty. I may be good at manipulation but there will always be a gap between me and those around me. With you being the exception to the rule, of course. Which only proves my point.”   
“Has it ever occurred to you that you are the only one who sees that gap?”   
“Exactly, which is why I have a hard time relying on others. Knowing when to ask for help is vital, and I kind of suck at that. You can’t micro-manage an entire kingdom.”   
“Let’s just agree that we both think of the other as better suited for the task than we believe ourselves to be,” Alistair offered. A truce.   
“Agreed. But we still don’t want to,” I said.   
“No we do not. We should still get married, though.”

I froze.

“C-could you repeat that?” I asked in shock.

_What the hell Alistair!?_

“I said, we should still get married, though,” he spoke calmly. I was speechless, was he serious?   
“I- Y-yes. Are you serious? Yes! Please tell me you’re not kidding.”

_Not bad._

Alistair laughed, “wow, that has to be the most awkward way anyone has ever responded to a wedding proposal.”   
I was too shocked to be offended, “well, it was a rather awkward way to propose…” I stammered.

Alistair grinned and took my face in his hands before kissing me. I kissed him back and wrapped my arms around him, pouring all my love into the kiss. I shivered when it broke.

“I may not have a ring to give you now, but, I want to give you this,” he reached into his pack, and carefully took out a rose.   
“I picked it a while ago, it was sitting among all the corruption around us. And I thought what a rare and beautiful thing it was to find amidst all this chaos. And in a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you.” Alistair gave me a loving smile.

I took the rose from Alistair, and suddenly something snapped into place.   
“You talked to Zevran, didn’t you?”   
Alistair grinned, “actually, he talked to me.”   
“He did?”   
“Yep. He wouldn’t tell me about your conversation, though,” Alistair grinned, “he said, 'Alistair,'” imitating Zevran’s thick Antivan accent, “'do you love your woman?'” I supressed a fit of giggles.   
“'Make her yours while you can and never let her go, you don’t know what the future may hold.'”   
I burst out laughing, “he did _not_ say that.”   
“Well no, but that is what it boils down to,” he kissed me with a smile. I pulled him down on the bedroll and sat on top of him.   
“You, are the strangest man I ever met,” I told him earnestly.   
“That is just a mean way of saying I am one of a kind,” Alistair replied flippantly. We both softly chuckled at that.

Alistair’s hands made their way up my legs, and found my ass.

“My fiancée,” Alistair mused, “I like how that sounds.”   
“I think ‘my wife’ sounds better,” I replied, leaning down to kiss him.   
“Shall we make wedding plans then?” Alistair asked playfully.   
“Let’s not think that far ahead right now,” I whispered as I started kissing his neck.   
“But what if I want to save myself for marriage?” Alistair asked innocently.   
I got up to look at him, “liar,” I said flatly and went back to kissing him.   
“This,” I reached down to grab hold of his erection, he groaned when he felt my grasp, “says otherwise.” Alistair chuckled, and moaned as I started moving my hand.

“I take it she said yes? Judging from the noise?” We heard Zevran call from outside the tent.   
“I swear, that sneaky elf is sitting right outside _every_ time to listen to us having sex,” I hissed.   
“That, I am. I would watch, but you won’t let me,” he replied in a casual tone.

“I’m gonna kill him,” I said, moving to get up, Alistair stopped me by grabbing hold of my wrists.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said firmly.   
“Zevran?” he called.   
“Yes?” came Zevran’s reply.   
“Kindly go eavesdrop on someone else, or I might let go of Fela’s wrists,” Alistair said, winking at me.   
“Very well, enjoy your moment. Congratulations by the way,” Zevran said in a cheerful tone.

Alistair, still holding my wrists, pulled me down and lay on top of me.   
“You’re mine now,” he declared, kissing me with a passion.   
“Always,” I replied when our lips parted. After a brief period of intense kissing, the clothes started coming off. Alistair took his time to enjoy my body, savouring every inch of it. I surrendered myself to his touches and kisses. But he was making me wait again, and my impatience started to grow. He knew it, and gave me a sinful smile when I reached down to guide him to where I wanted him.

“What did I tell you about discipline?” he asked in a low grunt.   
“You’ll have to remind me,” I said, challenging him.

He slowly pushed himself inside me, I closed my eyes, shuddering and moaning. Alistair started moving in a steady rhythm, I moved with him, lifting my hips and wrapping my legs around him. He leaned down to kiss me again, moving his tongue across my lower lip. I parted them and met his tongue with mine, his hold on me tightened as his movements intensified. Our lips parted again as Alistair let out a groan and started to move faster. I kept matching his thrusts, moaning with pleasure and holding Alistair close. I bit his shoulder when I felt the tension rising in my body again. But Alistair had decided not to work me to my climax just yet, he slowed down. Keeping me on the brink of release, but not letting me over the edge.

It drove me wild.

I dug my fingernails in his back so hard that he gasped. He pinned my wrists to the ground above my head, slowly increasing his pace again. It only drove me wilder as I arched my back and tightened the grip I had on him with my legs. Alistair let go of my wrists to switch positions. Sitting up on his knees and lifting my pelvis to his.   
“Yes,” I whispered repeatedly, as he fucked me senseless. I cried out as he finally let me reach my climax, reaching his own at the same time with a loud grunt. Our pace slowed to a stop and Alistair lay down on top of me again. Breathing fast.

As we caught our breath, I wrapped my arms around him again to hold him close. My brain wasn’t working just yet, there was only Alistair. His weight on top of me, his breathing in my neck, his heat. I clung on to him like nothing else mattered. He responded to my embrace by softly kissing my neck. I let out a soft sigh and ran my hands through his hair.

“You’re intoxicating,” I whispered. It earned me a chuckle and a nip on my ear.   
“I aim to please,” he whispered back.   
I laughed, “yes, you’re quite good at that. Consider me pleased.”   
Alistair gently released himself from my embrace so he could roll off and lay down beside me, “you don’t say? Why, I think they may have heard you all the way in Denerim,” Alistair teased.   
“I’m holding you responsible,” I replied with a grin.   
“Right, just put it all on me. I am a bad, bad man,” Alistair answered.   
“Well, you did pick a bloodthirsty, dual-wielding, silver-tongued devil covered in darkspawnblood to warm your bed. But at least you won’t be struck by lightning,” I said.   
“No. We might get eaten by an Archdemon though,” he replied in a playful tone.   
“Worth it,” I said decidedly with a yawn and rolled onto my side.   
“You’re falling asleep already, aren’t you?” Alistair asked while snuggling up against me and putting his arm around me.   
“Yeah…” I replied lazily.   
“I love you,” Alistair whispered.   
“I love you too,” I mumbled. Alistair pulled a blanket over us and nuzzled my neck. It wasn’t long before I had drifted off to sleep.


	18. Serious Sparring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela is done being pampered, and in a streak of rebellion challenges Alistair to a new kind of sparring match. 
> 
> This is where I started writing some more detailed action, I have a pretty vivid imagination but I hope I got it on paper vividly enough.

We both slept fitfully, I awoke once to Alistair slamming his fist down and hitting my side. I let out an involuntary grunt at the impact and grabbed at my painful side. I looked back at a disorientated Alistair.

“Ow! What the hell, Alistair!?” I hissed in anger. The confusion on his face simmered down my initial rage from waking up to an unexpected blow.   
“Nightmare?” I made it sound like a question, but it really wasn’t.   
He nodded, “I’m sorry, I hit you, didn’t I?” he said earnestly, guilt and regret in his voice. It killed off the rest of my annoyance effectively.   
I softened my tone, “you were dreaming, I know you didn’t mean to,” I said softly, “you just surprised me, that’s all.”   
“Did I hurt you?” he asked with concern.   
I shook my head, “Nah, it’s alright, I can take a punch,” I said truthfully.

Though blows like that hit a lot harder when all your muscles are relaxed because you’re asleep. But I decided not to worry Alistair, it had been an accident. I kissed him before lying back down, “go back to sleep.”

The second time, it was Asher who woke me up. He was licking my face and softly whining. It was his way of telling me I had been having a nightmare. The memories of it quickly faded as I scratched my dog behind his ear. It must have been a regular nightmare, the ones about the darkspawn and the Archdemon tended to stay with me longer, because of the Taint I suspected. “Good boy,” I whispered, before turning around and going back to sleep. I didn’t get much of it, waking up several more times either because of my own nightmares, or Alistair’s. Until finally, it was time for our watch.

We got dressed, picked up our weapons, and left the tent to sit by the fire. We huddled together under a blanket as usual. Staring into the fire and softly chatting. We talked about Denerim, Alistair had spent his Early youth under Arl Eamon’s wing and had lived in the city for a while. He remembered the Market Square, and a store named 'The Wonders Of Thedas.'

He told me about a stone golem statuette the Arl had bought for him when he was little. We also talked about Goldanna, and what Alistair expected to find.

“I’m hoping to finally find my family, I never really had any. Except for the Arl, before Isolde…” Alistair said quietly.   
“What do you know about her?” I asked.   
“I know she has children, she’s a mother. And she’s a washer woman,” he replied.   
“No husband?”   
“Not that I know of…” I was starting to form an image in my mind of this woman. She had lost her mother at an early age, had never met her little brother, and had probably been on her own ever since.

“So you’re an uncle,” I snickered, “uncle Alistair.”   
“Sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?” Alistair said hopefully.   
“It suits you,” I affirmed, “have you thought about how she might react?” This was the question that had been bugging me from the moment Alistair told me about Goldanna. I was aware that Alistair longed for a family, and I feared his expectations were… high. I hoped Goldanna would receive him with open arms, I really did. But there was a very real possibility she wouldn’t.

After a short silence, Alistair spoke, “I really don’t know… I’m hoping she will be happy of course… Why do you ask?”   
I took a moment to find the right words, “it is possible that she might not have the positive reaction you are hoping for… I really, _really_ hope that she does, but… What if she doesn’t?” Alistair remained quiet for a moment.   
“You’re worried about me again, aren’t you? So you are telling me to manage my expectations, not to hope for _too_ much, to save me disappointment?” I nodded.   
“It sounds harsh when you put it like that, but yeah… I know you long for a family, somewhere to belong. If she crushes that…” I trailed off and fell quiet.   
“I think I understand,” Alistair finally said softly, “you care enough to tell me something I don’t want to hear. But I think you’re right. Even if it doesn’t stop me from hoping.”   
I nodded, “alright, I respect that. Just know, you have a family right here too,” I said, and Alistair pulled me closer.   
“I know,” he whispered and kissed my forehead.

After that _very_ adult conversation, we went back to lighter topics.

The night was chilly, our shared body heat under the blanket, along with the heat from the fire, kept us comfortably warm. When the horizon started to glow, we woke Wynne and Zevran up for their watch. I was looking forward to sparring again. I was still taking it easy but I was itching for some exercise other than walking. When we reached a suitable spot, I started by doing some stretching exercises. To warm up a bit and to test my freedom of movement before I felt my remaining stitches tug. I had stopped using the numbing poultice, I figured I would be less likely to exert myself if I could feel when I did so. Alistair watched me go through my routine.

“I do love watching you do that,” he said with a flirtatious smile.   
“You should see me do it naked sometime,” I grinned when I saw Alistair’s eyes grow wide and his smile even wider.   
“Promises, promises,” he chuckled.   
“Shall we discuss ground rules for today?” he asked innocently.

“Let’s try fencing,” I began.

“Fela, is that really-” Alistair interrupted but I cut him off.   
“it would involve sharp things, yes. But, it would also put less strain on my wound than hand-to-hand combat and tackling each other to the ground. And I am perfectly capable of fencing without cutting or getting cut, it is a test of skill,” I said firmly.

I was getting tired of being told what I could and could not do by others. It had gone on long enough, my wounds had been… spectacular, yes, but mostly healed now. Alistair frowned.

“Fine, your swords then? Or would you prefer I take you on with my longsword.”   
“I do, we should use the weapons we always use. More experience and control will reduce risks of getting seriously hurt,” I said plainly.   
“And my shield?” Alistair asked.   
“Use it, like you always do,” I replied as I drew my rapiers from their sheaths and tossed my sword belt aside.   
“When I hit you, I will hit with the flat of my blade. No cutting. When I hit steel or shield however, I will hit with the edge.” I took my stance, legs slightly bent at the knees, straight back, relaxed shoulders, and my rapiers loosely held in my hands.

“Ready?” I asked Alistair, he nodded in response.

I circled Alistair, to test his footwork. Watching how he moved, the speed with which he responded, his reflexes. I had never been able to watch him this closely during a fight, I was usually busy shouting orders and killing. He was remarkably light on his feet for a man of his size, graceful as a prowling cat. A big one.

I thrust forward, letting him block me with his sword. I took several more exploratory swipes, taking my time to take his measure. I had sparred with him many times before, but our weapons had edges, I needed to know what he could do before engaging him. Overestimate your opponent and you might hurt him, underestimate your opponent and he might hurt you. I attacked from his right, his sword hand, a few times, to see how he would defend without his shield. He was quick to respond, never letting me come far within reach. He made good use of the weapon’s reach, keeping me at a distance. Meanwhile he made exploratory moves of his own, getting a feel for my responses. He tried hitting me with his shield a few times, but it was too slow.

I carefully stepped aside each time, _just_ out of reach. Never moving more than absolutely necessary, letting him come close to me rather than the other way around. I hit the back of Alistair’s legs with the flat of one of my blades the third time he tried. By swinging his shield at me, he left himself open as I side-stepped and moved forward. He groaned at the impact and staggered a bit. I hadn’t cut him, but the blow could have been an incapacitating one if I had wanted it to be.

“One,” I stated. 

I took my stance again and waited for Alistair to recover. We circled each other again, with a quicker step this time. Alistair swiped at my legs, and I jumped. He immediately thrust his shield forward, hoping to hit me when I was unable to step aside. I saw the shield coming as I dropped to the ground, I couldn’t evade it, so I moved with it. I spun just before the shield hit, decreasing the impact and using the momentum to step behind him and hitting him with the flat of my blade again, between his shoulder blades this time.

“Two.”

Alistair spun to face me again. I deflected a series of blows from his longsword. I could match his strength so long as I used both blades to block. The ones I could not block, I evaded. Alistair thrust his shield forward again, forcing me to step back, and immediately swung his blade down. I caught it on the guards of my own blades and used the opportunity to kick him in the stomach. He staggered back as I spun and delivered another kick at the inside of the arm that held the shield. Another kick and the shield dropped to the ground, I kicked it out of his reach while he steadied himself. I advanced calmly as he put both hands on his longsword and took a new stance. Defensive, yet ready to strike. I walked towards Alistair with calm determination, not even raising my swords, appearing wide open for attack. He fell for it. As he lunged forward, I crouched and spun to kick his legs from under him. I got up as he went down and had my blade under his chin before he could move to get up.

“Three.”

I stepped back to let Alistair get to his feet, “are you ready to take this seriously now? Or do you insist on underestimating me?” I asked him.   
He gave me a wicked smiled, “as you wish,” he replied. He didn’t move to pick up his shield however, still wielding his longsword with both hands. He came at me fast, swinging his sword with much more force than before. His blows became increasingly hard to block and I had to evade him more and more. I made no attempt to attack, I was letting him tire himself out.

Or so I thought.

He started breathing faster and faster but didn’t slow down a bit. I had no choice but to keep evading him, and waiting for a chance. He mis-stepped as he brought down his sword, sending it off target, I blocked the sword with one blade behind my back. With my other arm I elbowed Alistair in the side of his head. As he stumbled backwards, I set my blade against his throat. We were both breathing fast, standing chest to chest. I looked up at him.

“That’s better,” I whispered as I lowered my sword and kissed him.

“Another round?” he asked with a mischievous smile.   
“Of course, it was just getting good,” I replied.   
“You have a real knack for not being there when I hit,” he said as he took his stance again.   
“Thank you,” I replied sweetly.   
“It’s rather frustrating,” Alistair added, and he lunged.

I knocked the blow aside, letting Alistair lunge past me. I spun, using my momentum to slam my blades down. Alistair managed to turn around in time to deflect. He rolled on his shoulder and got to his feet. He immediately blocked another blow from me and spun to counter. I ducked and Alistair kicked me just below my ribs. I rolled sideways with a grunt and swiped at him as I got to my feet. I had to duck to the side a second time as Alistair brought his sword down again. He had anticipated my evasion, and stopped the motion halfway through to follow me with the tip of his blade and rest it beneath my chin when I found my footing. We were both out of breath, grinning from ear to ear.

“Two out of three?” I asked playfully.   
“It would be my pleasure,” Alistair replied, lowering his sword and stepping back.

I walked over to my sword belt to find my canteen and drank deeply. I offered Alistair the canteen, who moved to wrap an arm around my waist. He cupped my face with the other hand and kissed me long and deep before taking the canteen. I smiled as I took it back from him and took another sip.

“It’s more fun than you thought it would be, huh?” I asked Alistair with a grin.   
He returned my grin and chuckled, “alright, I’ll admit I enjoy this a lot more than I thought. It requires such precision and finesse, it’s very rewarding to land a blow or win the bout,” he conceded.   
“This is sport,” I affirmed.

“And you may also admit you were holding back because you were afraid of hurting me,” I said with a smirk.   
“We’re you _not_ afraid to hurt me and holding back?” Alistair said with mock indignation.   
I smirked again, “of course I held back, but not because I was afraid to hurt you. You’re a highly skilled warrior, you can hold your own. I respect you too much as a fighter to do that.”

Although I was grinning like a lunatic, I meant it. Fencing with Alistair had been exhilarating. My muscles had been begging to be used, walking can only do so much. I had been in good shape when I joined the Grey Wardens but since then I had seen so much battle it had become a routine, which had only served to improve my form. I was at a point where I _needed_ the exercise, I would go mad if I couldn’t get rid of my excess energy.

“Yes, well, it’s nice to have someone on my own level to train with for a change,” Alistair said nonchalantly.   
I laughed, “you are so unbelievably _cocky._ ”   
Alistair grinned back at me, “I am paying you a compliment, you know, and don’t tell me you don’t take pride in your skill. You are right to do so.”

I smiled at the flattery, he was right. I _did_ pride myself in my skill, and why shouldn’t I?

“I admit I delight in such things. I find that people are most happy when they pursue and cultivate their talents.”   
“Even if that talent is an aptitude for violence and murder?” Alistair asked with a raised eyebrow.   
I nodded, “I don’t see why not. So long as I use that talent for the right things, I daresay a lot of people are very grateful for it, back at Redcliffe and the circle Tower. The talent in itself isn’t evil, or wrong, or morally-misguided. Neither is being proud of it. Right and wrong don’t apply to those things in themselves. They do, however, apply to our choices and our behaviour. And things can get tricky when we are forced to kill in order to protect. Darkspawn are easy, solid, snarling, stinking evil. But beyond that, things aren’t as black and white,” I explained.

Alistair smiled, “I remember making a similar point not too long ago at the Spoiled Princess, you took it a bit further though,” he said.   
I returned the smile, “I listen,” I said affirmatively.   
“You also told me that such wisdom can only come from deep thought and contemplation, and advised me to numb it with wine,” Alistair added with a smirk.   
I burst out laughing, “yes I did,” I admitted, throwing my hands up. I put down the canteen and picked up my blades.

“Ready for round three?”

Alistair smiled and raised his longsword.   
“Let’s raise the stakes a bit, if I win, I want to see you do those stretching exercises naked.”   
“And if I win?” I countered.   
“You’ll have to beat me to find out,” he replied with an evil smile.   
“Tempting. You have a deal.” I answered and took my stance again.

Alistair did the same. I came at him with two quick swipes, he blocked them with ease and countered, slamming his sword down. I knocked it aside and kicked at his knee. He raised his sword in defence as he staggered and I came at him again. I wasn’t going to give him time to go on the offensive this time. I hit hard, but not with all my strength, Alistair blocked again and pushed me back. I used the movement to push his blade aside with mine and slammed the guard protecting my fist against his bicep with a grunt. I struck at him again and as he blocked, I could tell from the diminished resistance on his part that his arm had gone slightly numb. I hit his arm again, just above the elbow. He grunted as he dropped his sword, and rolled out of the way of another swipe.

He circled me, keeping a safe distance. I remained where I stood, if he wanted his sword, he would have to come and get it. Suddenly he moved in fast, hitting my left elbow with his fist and grabbing the wrist with the other. He wrenched the sword free of my hand, not what I had expected. He looked a little smug when he faced me with one of my own blades.

Rightly so, if I were honest.

I smiled, he didn’t have as much reach as with his longsword anymore. He came at me, striking fast and hard, I evaded as much as I could, but ended up having to block a couple of times. Finally he got in close and swung his sword down, I had no choice but to thrust mine upwards and meet his blow half-way through the arc. I managed to stop his blade, but Alistair had forced me into a strength contest. I couldn’t win it, I pushed back with all I had but was forced so step sideways to redirect the force Alistair was putting on me. It unbalanced him, he bend over and I slammed my knee into his chest, sending him up again. He raised his blade and it met mine, another pushing contest, this time _I_ had the advantage. Alistair had trouble finding his footing to push back. I pushed him back with all my strength, making him stagger backwards. I kept striking at him as he moved back until I kicked his legs from under him. He went down and I had my sword under his chin again.

“You’re dead,” I stated.   
“So are you,” Alistair said, he gently poked my thigh with his sword, “there is a major artery there, you would bleed out in seconds,” he said with a grin.   
“Clever,” I said with a smile as I lowered my sword and offered Alistair a hand to help him up.   
“So what do we do about the bet?” I asked, panting.   
“Well, seeing as we’re both dead, we both lost. Or, if you choose a different perspective, we both won by killing the other. It’s up to you really, if you want to know what you would get if you had won by yourself, you’ll have to do the naked stretching exercises,” he replied.

I was about to reply when I heard slow clapping, I turned to see Zevran and Sten watching from a distance.

“You two are quite something to behold,” Zevran said solemnly.   
“You need to work on your defence.” Sten merely said in his monotone voice.   
“Funny,” I said as I walked towards them, “I don’t recall inviting you two to watch and judge.” I raised my blade.   
“Was I not clear before?” I raised an eyebrow at them, inviting them to challenge me.   
“Worry not, we were not spying. We merely came to call you for breakfast. And we respectfully waited for you to finish the fight. And we may have made our own bets.” Zevran grinned.   
“Of course you did,” I said in a knowing voice and lowered my blade.   
“Oh well, just don’t make a habit out of watching us. I don’t like having an audience,” I said as I went to pick up my sword belt. Alistair had retrieved his sword and shield and joined Zevran and Sten.

“Well fought my friend,” I heard Zevran say as he put his hand on Alistair’s shoulder, “your beloved is truly a marvel with a sword, or two. Good job on disarming her, well, partly.” I rolled my eyes but the compliment did flatter me. I took a drink from my canteen again and offered it to Alistair.   
“Just for how _long_ were you watching?” I narrowed my eyes at Zevran.   
“We arrived shortly before you kicked Alistair’s shield off his arm,” Sten said plainly.

Seemingly oblivious to admitting they were there for much longer than Zevran had insinuated.

A sly smile played around my lips, “ah, now see, that happened _before_ Alistair agreed to take fencing seriously. And that was quite a while ago. Has breakfast been ready for that long?” I asked sweetly.   
Zevran scowled at Sten, “fine, I’ll admit, we heard the sound of clashing swords and came to see what was happening. We don’t know if breakfast is ready,” he said apologetically.   
“Uh-uh, and when we took a break to have a drink, where were you, exactly?” I replied.   
Zevran evaded the question, “finding a good spot to watch round three of course, what was this about naked stretching exercises?”   
“You were hiding in the bushes, weren’t you?” I said sternly.   
Zevran sighed, “fine. Fine, you win. I was secretly watching you. Because I am not allowed to watch out in the open,” he said.   
“And _why_ are you not allowed to watch?” I asked, like a mother scolding a child.   
“Because I make too many witty comments.” Zevran replied.   
“'Because you make too many witty comment,' yes,” I repeated sarcastically, “and because you are a pervert. And you,” I turned to Sten, “why were you watching?”   
Sten just stared at me blankly, “why not?” he asked.

“Because I told you _eggheads_ not to, that’s why! Get your asses back to camp, go tell Wynne there is no fighting and the camp is safe, now!” I snapped. They immediately turned and left.

Alistair chuckled as they scampered off.   
“You are merciless,” he said, “what’s the harm in them watching?”   
I sighed, “for too long I’ve had men watch me fight and shove their opinions in my face. It was worse when I was a noble Lady, surely. But I still prefer to train in privacy. I chose to share this with you, not with them,” I explained.   
“I don’t think they are aware of this,” Alistair replied.   
“They’re not, they wouldn’t understand it anyway. Have I told you Sten believes I am not truly a woman because I am a fighter? And women can’t be fighters according to the Qun. I have gotten criticized, ridiculed, and sexualized more than enough. If they can’t behave, they can’t watch. They don’t have to understand it, it is not a strange thing I am asking. Some fighters want to keep their skills secret, it’s not uncommon for people to only train in privacy,” I replied.   
“Well, when you put it that way…” Alistair said, “so, when I mentioned naked stretching exercises…” he continued but I cut him off with a kiss.   
“It’s not the same when you do it. You have a _very_ different relationship with me than Sten and Zevran,” I replied, “you have certain privileges. Which you earned by the way,” I added with a grin.   
“Did I?” Alistair asked playfully and he kissed me again, I nodded, “sparring like we do, it requires a high level of intimacy for me. Maybe it’s different for you, but I don’t share these things lightly.”   
“Makes sense,” Alistair replied, “you were originally trained in private, I don’t imagine you ever entered a tournament. Men are taught to be proud of their strength and skill in battle. When women do that…”   
“Exactly, different expectations, different reactions,” I finished his sentence.

“Still, it doesn’t matter much when I fight darkspawn, bandits, demons, or whatever. But were I to fight one of the men I travel with, suddenly my reproduction organs matter.”   
Alistair nodded and laughed, “I for one am very happy with your set of reproduction organs.”   
“Well, when the day comes that I hold my sword with my cunt, you will be the first to know,” I replied dryly.

This sent Alistair into a fit of hysterical laughter, it was contagious and soon we were both out of breath from laughing. Alistair kissed me again.

“I love you, let’s go have breakfast.”


	19. Why Cities Stink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group arrives in Denerim, where Fela gets right to business. After that, Alistair and she meet Goldanna. While they are in the city, they find the Grey Warden sympathiser poster.

We went back to camp where Wynne had prepared a simple breakfast. I briefly nodded to Wynne before turning to Sten. We would be arriving in Denerim soon, and our food supplies were running low.

“You wouldn’t have any experience in haggling do you?” I asked him.   
“No,” he replied.   
“When we get to Denerim, I want you and Zevran to get us new supplies. His charm and your intimidating presence should work well. You don’t have to say anything, just look scary, like you always do,” I said.   
“Is this because we watched your fight?” he asked with a frown.   
“No, this is because Zevran has a very persuasive nature and a big guy like you will make merchants a bit more… generous. You two should be able to get what we need without trouble, and we don’t have a lot of coin left. We’ll need to see what we can scrape together in Denerim,” I explained.   
Sten nodded, “I will take stock of our inventory,” he replied and got up to find Zevran.   
“Hang on Sten, after you two get our supplies, I want you to gather as much information as you can. Let Zevran do the talking, and keep your eyes and ears open.” He nodded respectfully and left. I smiled in satisfaction.

When Sten was out of earshot, Morrigan spoke up.   
“It occurs to me that you have a very persuasive nature too, yet you sent the Elf and the Qunari. I do wonder what led you to this choice?”   
“I will be going after brother Genitivi, see if I can find some clues about his research and his whereabouts. I was hoping you would assist Alistair and me. Meanwhile I want Wynne and Leliana to go to the Chantry and some inns to find more information and, hopefully, some work to make some coin.” I replied.   
Morrigan nodded, “very well,” she said, before moving to take down her tent.

“What would you like me to find out,” I suddenly heard Leliana say. She had a remarkable talent for remaining unnoticed when she wanted to, and she often used it to sneak up on me.   
“The usual, recent news, political climate, potential allies and potential enemies, that sort of thing. But there is one thing in particular, I want to know what Rendon Howe has been doing,” I answered. Leliana nodded respectfully. I got up to get my things and take down my tent, Alistair followed.

“You know, they have started to wait for you to give them orders each morning,” Alistair said as he rolled up our bedrolls.   
Meanwhile I was packing our bags, “we are just developing a routine,” I said, “these things tend to happen naturally.”   
“Maybe, but you realise that they see you as our leader right? You make most of the decisions,” Alistair replied.   
I shrugged, “perhaps, but that doesn’t stop them from questioning me every step of the way. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good thing they speak their minds. But it gets on my nerves from time to time.” I answered as I closed the bags and moved them out of the tent.   
“Especially when they intrude on private matters,” I added. Alistair followed me out of the tent to help me take it down. We were on the road again within the hour.

We soon arrived in Denerim, it was filthy and crowded. Just like any other major city really. I had been in Denerim before, but that was when my mother was looking for a husband for me. Meaning I mostly saw the nicer side of town. When we entered the marketplace, it was filled with merchants promoting their wares and people looking to buy them. I stopped for a moment.

“Alright, you all know your jobs. I suggest we find an inn first before we split up, we need a place to regroup when we are finished. Any suggestions?” I said, looking at my companions expectantly. They either shrugged or looked around to see if there were any inns in the near vicinity.   
“There,” Sten pointed, his size allowed him to look over the people that surrounded us. We followed him through the crowd, I could get used to having a big Qunari to clear a path for me in a crowd.

Sten led us to an inn called the Gnawed Noble. It was a reasonably nice inn, green carpets, chairs and couches with pillows on them. And the crowd was reasonably mixed, there were at least as many nobles as there were commoners. It gave Leliana and Wynne a good place to start. I spoke to the innkeep for room and board for the night. A polite man, and willing to share gossip. Although it wasn’t the kind of gossip I was interested in. When I asked him about Genitivi, he closed up.

“Genitivi you say? Can’t say I know a man by that name,” he said flippantly, poorly masking his sudden change in demeanour.   
“No? I hear he is a great scholar and researcher. I would expect such a man to enjoy some notoriety among high society,” I said sweetly and looked around the room at the people dressed in fine clothes.   
“Perhaps one of your patrons might know him?” I asked while looking around the room. I was playing nice, no need to piss him off before he handled my dinner.   
“No miss, I’m afraid I’ve never had anyone by that name in here, and I make a point of knowing my clientele,” the innkeep replied, he was trying to be polite but he was doing a poor job of it, he might as well have said I should drop it and go bother someone else.   
“Truly? You must have quite a memory for faces and names then,” I smiled innocently, “do you get many members of the high nobility here?”   
The innkeep nodded, “we have some regulars,” he said smugly.   
“Any who might know Genitivi?” I asked and the innkeep’s face soured.

“I told you, I’ve never had a brother Genitivi here,” he said sternly.

“Could you repeat that?”   
“I’ve never had a brother Genitivi here,” the innkeep said with a scowl.   
I smiled, “funny you should call him that.”   
“What?”   
“ _Brother_ Genitivi,” I said calmly looking the innkeep straight in the eye. He paled as he realised what had happened.   
“When did you meet him?” I asked, the innkeep paused.   
“He was a regular, I’ve known him for a while now,” the man finally admitted.   
“I am looking for him, do you have any idea where he might be?”   
“No, he left for an expedition a few weeks ago. Haven’t seen him since.”   
“Did he say anything that might tell me where to look?” The innkeep shook his head.

“Pity. Now tell me why you lied to me,” I held the innkeep’s gaze while he stammered an answer.   
“Please, don’t tell anyone I said anything,” he said. I could see he was frightened, had someone threatened him?   
“I won’t, I promise. Tell me why you wouldn’t tell me, maybe I can help.”   
The innkeep looked me up and down, “you… sure look like an able sort,” he began as he considered my proposal.

“A while ago, some men I had never seen before came in, they asked after brother Genitivi. They wanted to know if there was anyone looking for him. They… threatened my family… I told them there had been some knights from Redcliffe, I know I shouldn’t have but, I can’t let my family get hurt.”   
“It’s ok, I won’t let that happen,” I said softly.   
The innkeep took a deep breath, “I think he is in trouble, there is nothing I can tell you of his whereabouts but his home is right across the street. Maybe you can find something that will point you in the right direction.”   
“Thank you, I promise I won’t lead anyone back to you and your family. I’ll take care of this.”   
“T-thank you, my Lady.” I smiled at the innkeep and made my way to the door.

“You _have_ to teach me how to do that,” Alistair said when we stepped outside.   
“You keep a conversation going until they slip up, you catch them in their lie. Make them uncomfortable, then offer help and a way out,” I replied.   
“You make it sound so easy…” Alistair said with a frown.

Morrigan rolled her eyes at him and knocked on the door to what we assumed was brother Genitivi’s house. There was no answer, so I picked the lock. A decidedly un-lady-like skill to possess, but it was extremely useful.

We entered quietly, I went first, followed by Morrigan and Alistair.

“Who are you?” came a voice from inside, I turned to look at a young man.   
“Ah I apologize, there was no answer so I let myself in. I have been sent on behalf of Arl Eamon, of Redcliffe. We are looking for brother Genitivi, this is his home, yes?” I said in my kindest voice.   
“It is, I am his assistant, Waylon,” the young man said as he crossed his arms.   
“Do you know where I might find brother Genitivi?” I asked. Waylon shook his head.   
“No,” he said stubbornly.   
“Do you know anything about his research?”   
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Waylon said coldly.   
“The Urn of Sacred Ashes,” I clarified.   
Waylon sighed, “you are not the first to come asking after it, I suppose I can’t convince you to just drop it? He told me where he went but… I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”   
“Who got hurt?” I asked. “  
Two knights from Redcliffe…”   
“What happened to them?” “They came asking brother Genitivi and the Urn, like you. From his research, I was able to find out where he went. I told the knights and now they’re dead,” Waylon said.

“Didn’t you just say he told you? Why go through his research?” I asked   
“Y-yes, yes I did. You see, he told me he was going west, but not exactly where. So when the knights came, I went through his things. Look, I am telling you this for your own safety, don’t go after him. Those knights _died_ ,” Waylon insisted.   
“And how would you know that?” I continued.   
“Well… I… did not hear from them again, so I assume they perished,” he was breaking now.   
“Uh-uh , and who are you that they would send you messages to keep you informed?”   
“N-no one!”   
“You should start talking now,” I said menacingly.

‘Waylon’ let out a frustrated cry, “why do I keep up this charade! I tried to tell you nicely to let this go, but you refuse to listen,” he pulled a dagger.   
“Fine, have it your way.” I said and grabbed his wrist when he attacked. I slammed it into the table, disarming him. I grabbed a handful of hair on the back of his head, and slammed his face into the table too. It dazed him.   
“Last chance,” I said, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and drawing one of my rapiers. I set it against his throat, “I’ve left a trail of blood to get to where I am now, you are just another drop in the river to me,” I growled at him. He looked at me defiantly. I slid his throat when he reached for another dagger, dropping him to the floor.

I wiped my blade on a rag I found on the table.   
“Marvellous, not one full day in the city and you have started killing,” Morrigan sneered.   
“Well what was I going to do? Let him attack? Let him go so he could inform whoever he works for that we’re coming? Torture answers out of him in the middle of the goddamn Market District? One of the busiest in the entire goddamn city!?”

Morrigan and Alistair just stared at me.

“Just help me look for anything that might tell me where Genitivi went,” I snarled, cleaned the blood off, and got to work. As we searched the house, we found the body of a man we assumed was the real Waylon. Alistair finally found papers that said brother Genitivi had gone to Haven. A village far west that didn’t seem to be on any map. Of course... not suspicious at all… Haven was pretty far west from here, even beyond Redcliffe itself. But it also happened to be closer to Orzammar, so it wasn’t all bad. We left Genitivi's house, and stepped back onto the busy street.

“Morrigan, could you please inform Wynne and Leliana of what we found? Alistair and I have another matter to attend to,” I said as soon as we closed the door behind us. Morrigan nodded and headed back to the inn.   
“I believe you said your sister lived somewhere around here,” I said as I turned to Alistair.   
His face lit up, “you want to go now? Are you sure there is time?” he asked hopefully.   
I nodded, “we found a lead on brother Genitivi much quicker than I expected. Lead the way,” I answered.

I followed him across the square, to a house next to Wade’s Emporium. The brilliant smith who had crafted my rapiers.   
“This is it, this is where my sister lives,” Alistair said nervously.   
“Are you sure you want me here for this?” I checked with Alistair.   
He nodded and grabbed my hand, “yes, I’d rather have you with me,” he replied and kissed me on my cheek. He knocked on the door with his other hand, and opened it.

We stepped inside, “hello?” Alistair called.   
“Be right out!” a female voice called back.

A woman emerged from a back room with a rag in her hand.   
“Ey, you got linens to wash? I charge three bits on a bundle, you won’t find any better. And don’t trust what that Natalia woman says, she’s foreign and will rob you blind,” she said.   
“No,” Alistair began, “I-I’m not here to have any wash done. My name is Alistair, I’m… Well, this will sound sort of strange, but… Are you Goldanna? If so, I suppose, I’m your brother,” Alistair said nervously.   
“My what? I am Goldanna, yes. How do you know my name? What tomfoolery are you folk up to?” she replied in a hesitant and slightly annoyed tone.   
“He’s telling the truth, just listen to him,” I requested.

“Look, our mother, she worked in Redcliffe castle a long time ago before she died. Do you know about that? She-”   
“You! I knew it! They told me you were dead! They told me the babe was dead along with mother but I knew they was lying!” she yelled. She mostly sounded angry.   
“They told you I was dead? Who told you that?” Alistair asked confused.   
“Thems at the castle! I told them the babe was the King’s and they said he was dead. Gave me a coin to shut my mouth, and send me on my way. I _knew_ it,” Goldanna said in a cold, but angry, tone.   
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that,” Alistair said earnestly, “but the babe didn’t die, I’m him… I’m your brother.”   
Goldanna scoffed, “for all the good it does me. You killed mother, you did, and I’ve had to scrape by all this time! That coin didn’t last long and when I went back, they ran me off!” she said in an offended tone.

“That’s hardly Alistair’s fault, is it?” I said calmly.   
“And who are you?” Goldanna snapped as she turned to me, “some tart to follow after his riches?”   
“Don’t talk to her that way,” Alistair said in a forceful and commanding voice.   
“She is my… friend, and a Grey Warden, like me,” he continued in a calmer voice.   
As soon as Goldanna recovered from the initial shock, she went on sneering, “oh, I see, a prince _and_ a Grey Warden too. Well who am I to think poorly of someone so high and mighty compared to _me_. I don’t know you _boy_. Your royal father forced himself upon my mother and took her away from me. And what do I got to show for it? Nothing! They tricked me good, I should have told everyone. I got five mouths to feed, and unless you can help with that I have less than no use for you,” Goldanna glared at us.

“I- I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say… ” Alistair said softly.   
“Goldanna, Alistair came here looking for his family,” I tried to sound patient and kind but I fear I did a poor job of it.   
“Well… he found it. I’m his sister. But what are you to me, boy, except the one who took my mother away, hmm?” she replied coldly.   
“You think I wanted her dead? I never wanted that, I didn’t have the life you think I did, Goldanna,” Alistair said, firmly.   
Goldanna sighed, “I suppose not. A bastard is still a bastard, isn’t he? But… brother or no, I have five mouths to feed and no time until they are,” she replied.   
“Then let me promise you this, Goldanna. I’ll do whatever I can, speak to whomever I have to, to make sure you and your children are taken care of.”   
“Hmm, That all sounds nice and fine, but you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t exactly hold my breath.” Alistair shook his head.   
“You have my promise, I can’t give you more than that. Let’s go… Goodbye sister,” he said and turned to leave. I considered telling Goldanna exactly what I thought of her, but Alistair pulled me along. All I could manage was a nasty glare, which she returned.

“Well…” Alistair said as he closed the door behind us, “that wasn’t what I expected it to be, to put it lightly. I’ll live up to my promise I suppose, but… is this the family I have been wondering about all that time? I can’t believe it… I… guess I expected her to accept me without question. Isn’t that what family is supposed to do? I… I feel like a complete idiot.”   
“Don’t say that Alistair, you’re not an idiot for having hope. I’m sorry it turned out this way. Some people are just out for themselves, or at least Goldanna is… You'll have to arm yourself against them or they'll walk all over you,” I replied.   
“Let’s just go… I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Alistair said in a defeated tone. I squeezed his hand gently and nodded. We went back to the inn to meet up with Wynne, Leliana, and Morrigan. It wasn’t far, we only had to cross the Market Square.

Along the way, Alistair pointed me to a poster on one of the city walls. It depicted a griffon, and a few lines of text; ‘Don’t believe the lies! Friends of the Grey Wardens assemble! The hidden pearl holds the key to the resistance. The griffons will rise again!’

“This, is not subtle. Whoever put this here needs to be taught the subtle art of _hidden_ messages,” I said and crossed my arms.   
“What do you mean?” Alistair asked.   
“If you want to gather Grey Warden sympathisers and use a poster like this, you might as well shout it off the rooftops, ‘who wants to join me in some good old-fashioned treason right under Loghain’s nose! We like to do it the obvious way!’ Whoever did this is either stupid, suicidal, or just a little _too_ eager to find people who support the Grey Wardens,” I replied and surveyed the market square around us.   
“Maybe all three,” I said while rubbing my chin, “Loghain must consider the two of us a serious threat. I’m rather flattered,” I added.   
“Right,” Alistair said flatly, “meanwhile I’ll feel paranoid for both of us.” I chuckled, and took the poster off the wall.   
“So what do you want to do about it?” Alistair asked as he watched me fold the poster and tuck it into my pocket.   
“I see two possibilities, either it’s a trap, or some poor sod is doing a very poor job of trying to help us. In both cases I’d like to interfere, though I suspect the latter isn’t very likely,” I replied.   
“You’re talking about going into the lion’s den, you know that right?” Alistair said hesitantly.   
“I’m not about to walk in blind, I’ll think of something,” I replied and continued walking.

Alistair followed, “does ’the hidden pearl’ sound somewhat erotic to you?”   
“It does, I think it might be a whorehouse, The Pearl. I’ve been there before,” I replied.   
“Hold on,” Alistair grabbed my arm and stopped walking, “you’ve been there before?” he wriggled his eyebrows.   
I giggled, “not as a customer for _that_ particular service, I assure you. I’ve never paid for sex in my life, look at me.”   
Alistair grinned and covertly squeezed my ass, “I believe you,” he replied and we continued walking. “So what brought you there?” he asked.   
“Cards, lost about twenty silver before I noticed one of my opponents was cheating. They stripped him naked, gagged him with his own underwear, tied him up, and locked him into a pig stable,” I chuckled at the memory, “worth every coin I lost.”

“You didn’t get your money back?” Alistair asked.   
I shook my head, “I was busy tying him up and gagging him,” I said and flashed an impish smile, “forgot all about the money, and I may have been drunk.”   
Alistair laughed, “was that just you then? Or were there accomplices?”   
“There were several accomplices, he’d made a lot of enemies in one night. I hear the guy was found around noon the next day, he spent the entire night and morning rolling around in pig shit,” I replied and grinning manically at the memory. Alistair burst out laughing and I soon joined in. 

Simpler times...


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela takes Morrigan, Alistair, and Asher to the Pearl to investigate the silly pamphlet. When they are done, Fela and Alistair meet Isabella. Because, of course they HAVE to. So there's some experimental smut coming, also a first. I might polish it up some time in the future.

Morrigan had managed to pry some jobs out of the innkeep, most not entirely legal.

On the list were the disposing of bodies and gathering twelve vials of concentrated venom. I thanked Morrigan nonetheless, there was good coin to be made and she was willing to take the jobs. Wynne had spoken to the captain of the guard and gotten us a job of a more honest nature. Kicking mercenaries out of a certain whorehouse, The Pearl.

Imagine my surprise, I had no problem taking a job like that. We might be able to get some more information on the ‘resistance’. I thanked Wynne and moved on to Leliana.

Loghain had indeed launched a campaign to discredit the Grey Wardens, openly accusing the order of treason. There were those who opposed Loghain but they were few in numbers. And most had retreated from the city. Rendon Howe had declared himself Teyrn of Highever _and_ Arl of Denerim, and taken up a position as Loghain’s advisor. He had a growing reputation as ‘the Butcher of Denerim.’ Many had suffered under him already. I was pleased to hear he still wasn’t well liked, his abrasive manners still made him unpopular among his peers. I liked that, many would not be sad to see him go. Making them more responsive to some subtle slandering. Leliana had talked to several people and implemented certain information in strategic places. Rendon Howe would be under a magnifying glass. Simply by implying the other nobles had suspected Howe of heinous acts. Most of them were even true, brutalizing the elves in the Alienage for example.

I complimented Leliana on her work and called Alistair over.

“What do you say about kicking some mercenary ass?” I proposed.  
It earned me a grin and a chuckle, “where are we going?” he asked.  
“A whorehouse, called The Pearl.” I replied with a grin.  
“Ah,” Alistair replied with a mischievous look.

We took Morrigan and Asher with us and left the inn. The Pearl was in a different district, it took us a while to get there. On the way, Morrigan inquired about Alistair’s sister. He snarled at her to shut up or he’d kill her. I believed him. Morrigan just _had_ to push his buttons. But then she said something unexpected.

“I take it she did not receive you with open arms. That woman is a fool, you don’t need her. Who needs another bitch-sister when you have me,” she said.

It actually made Alistair smile. This was unusually kind for Morrigan, maybe they were starting to tolerate each other more than I thought.

“You know, that’s actually kind of nice of you,” Alistair said with a grin.  
“Don’t push it,” she replied.

I smiled inwardly, Morrigan was slowly beginning to show a softer side of herself. I decided I should get those two drunk more often, it seemed to have a positive effect. Asher barked happily, Alistair petted the big Mabari’s head. Chatting idly away at him.

We made it to The Pearl without any encounters. We were greeted by the proprietor, Sanga. She pointed out the mercenaries, though she really didn’t need to. The White Falcons were loud, abrasive, and were making merry trouble. I took the loudest one for their leader.

“I am going to have to ask you to leave,” I said flatly when I got his attention.  
The man scoffed, “look at this pretty little guard, come to kick us out. What do we think about that men?” he called back over his shoulder.  
He got drunken rabble as a reply, along with some comments on my tits and several obscene suggestions.

“I have half a mind to take you back to my room to teach you to respect your betters, do you even know how to hold one of those swords? I’ll show you how to grip it properly,” he sneered while grabbing at his crotch.  
“I’m not with the city guard, leave. Now,” I replied calmly, not responding to his taunts.  
“You have some nerve coming in here and ordering us around, you need to be taught some humility,” he snarled.  
“Nobles want reliable soldiers, not common rabble. You’ve had your fun. Now return to your duties. There are plenty of other mercenaries for hire if you don’t,” I replied.

It gave the mercenaries pause, after all, they go where the gold is. 

“Fine,” he finally said, “men! Clear out!” he shouted and left. His men trailed behind him, giving me dark looks. Sanga thanked me for handling things without bloodshed and got back to work. But not before insisting we share a drink on the house.

As Sanga left to get our drinks, I pulled the poster I had taken earlier out of my pocket and showed it to Morrigan, and asked her if she could do some snooping around. Being a shape-changer, she had other, more effective, ways of doing so than I did. She took the expression ‘a fly on the wall’ to a whole new level. She slipped out of the room and Alistair and I waited, engaging in polite conversation with Sanga. She got back to her duties before Morrigan returned to inform me of the current occupants of the several rooms in the back. Most were being used for their original purposes, but there was one where four armed people were waiting.

And they weren’t waiting to get laid.

We ordered more drinks to stake out the place a bit longer, see who was coming and going, looking for concealed weapons, that sort of thing. After we were satisfied that none of the remaining clientele looked like they weren’t looking for anything other than some nice, anonymous, paid for sex, I send Alistair to check the surrounding area for any sign of guards or back up. Should there be a fight, I’d rather be sure I knew how to get out if things got too dangerous.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Alistair said quietly as he pulled up a chair.  
“None? Now I’m offended, I expected more,” I purred, “I’m used to a much warmer welcome.”

Morrigan rolled her eyes and sighed. She stood out like an annoyed wolf among sheep, horny sheep.

While this could have been a problem, around here, people were more focussed on their own, scantily dressed, companions to pay much attention to mine. It allowed Alistair and me blend in with the rest. So I sat in his lap, whispered into his ear, stroked his shoulder and chest with my fingers, and acted like I was here for the exact same reason everybody else was. While unsure what to make of my actions, Alistair responded accordingly, putting a hand on my ass and the other on my waist. It gave us and excuse to whisper and discuss our next move.

“Have you found any escape routes, should we need it?” I asked and nipped at his ear playfully.  
“There is a side door, it doesn’t lead into the back ally but into a garden. We could easily get to the rooftops from there,” he replied and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and caressed the side of my neck. I shivered with genuine pleasure at his touch and pressed my body a little closer to his.  
“How many guards did you see?” “Two, they were just making their rounds. They shouldn’t be back for a while.”  
“That’s good, we should be able to take four guys, if we need to. And get out quickly if we have to.”  
“Alright, I’m ready to go,” Alistair replied.  
I giggled, “aren’t you always?” I whispered and got up, took Alistair by his hand and guided him to the rooms in the back. Morrigan and Asher followed.

Morrigan pointed us to the right room. I stood in front of it for a moment, contemplating my next move, then decided that knocking was probably the best option.

“What’s the password?” a male voice replied. I looked at Morrigan, who shook her head.

“The griffons will rise again,” I said, with as much confidence as I could muster, though I wasn’t feeling that confident at all.

It was a guess, I figured it would tell the person on the other side that I was here because of the poster. My bluff was rewarded with the sound of a key unlocking the door. The door opened and I stepped inside, followed by Alistair, Morrigan, and Asher. In front of us stood a human, a female elf, and two male Qunari, looking rather smug. I knew the human, he was one of Howe’s high-ranking officers.

“Look at this! Another Grey Warden supporter,” the man said flashed a smile that left me feeling dirty.  
“Not just any supporter, Paedan,” the elf said with a grin, “that’s a Grey Warden. She’s the one Arl Howe has been looking for.”  
“Our trap landed a Warden?” Paedan doubled over laughing. I gave him a moment to recollect as he snorted and hiccuped, punching one of the qunari on the arm and wiping at his eyes with his other hand, "you must feel, so _stupid,"_ he said through another fit of laughter, "'the griffons wil rise again!'" he imitated, "classic!"

He slowly gathered himself, "phoo, okay, right, back to business," he said with another chuckle and straightened himself. 

“You have one chance to surrender,” he said while looking me up and down.  
I smiled sweetly at him, “I was hoping you’d say that.”  
“What?” Paedan asked confused.  
“I came here to kill you,” I clarified.

The elf frowned and I saw a speck of uncertainty in her eyes, “we’re no common guards, Warden, we’re Howe’s elite.” I laughed.

“You are? _You’re_ his elite?” I said scathingly, “you should have known better, you don’t use a small game trap to catch a monster,” I said as I drew my swords.

I heard Alistair do the same behind me and felt Morrigan’s magic cackling in the air as she prepared a spell. Asher bared his teeth, lay his ears back on his head, and growled menacingly. Paedan shrugged.

“Jarvy, Tennant, Shaevra, let’s go kill ourselves some Warden supporters. But leave the pretty one alive, Howe will want her for himself,” he licked his lips after he spoke the last words, “after I’ve taught her some manners and respect.”

I leapt forward, crouched, and spun. Ducking under an incoming sword from a Qunari and kicking at his legs, sending him to the ground. I raised one rapier above my head as I stood up to block a blow from Paedan and used the other to strike at the elf at his side. She managed to block me but failed to anticipate Alistair who ran her through. Morrigan electrocuted the remaining Qunari after freezing the one I had kicked down. Alistair moved around me to finish him off as I engaged Paedan.

I drove him back, striking at him increasingly fast, only cutting him superficially. His bicep, chest, cheek, side, leg. I kept going until he stumbled and fell onto his back. The bleeding made it look like he was mortally wounded, he wasn’t, but the fear made it impossible for him to think straight. He crawled back to get away from me. My smile never faltered, not even when he begged me for mercy, or when I positioned my blade over his heart and pushed it down.

“Damn…” Alistair said quietly behind me, “that was cold, even for you,” he said as he watched me pull my sword out of Paedan’s chest.  
“It was no less than he deserved,” I said casually and spat on his corpse.

“Men like him, they’re animals that need to be put down.”

“How can you say that? Did you know him?” Alistair asked.  
“I did,” I replied, “Howe was my father’s vassal, I knew most of the higher ranked officers in his employ. This one,” I kicked at Paedan’s corpse, “was known for his sadism. Something he and Howe had in common I suppose. He liked to mutilate, once I saw him crush a lutist’s fingers with a nutcracker because he didn’t like the choice of music. Boasted about how the man would never play lute again and that he’d done the world a favour. He’d robbed the man of his livelihood and he was _proud_ of it. This was during a formal dinner in the city of Amaranthine,” I said, looking back at Alistair, “he doesn’t deserve your compassion.”

His expression softened a bit and he sighed, “we should leave.”  
“In a moment,” I replied as I was searching Paedan’s pockets.

He had some coin, which I tucked away safely, and a letter, from Rendon Howe. I put it away with the gold pouch I’d looted and got up. I took the key from the door and locked it behind us as we left.

“No one has come running yet, I think we’re good,” I said quietly. I used my canteen to wet a piece of cloth, and cleaned most of the fresh blood away. Luckily, I was wearing black today. I handed it to Alistair next before we went back to the common room.

Morrigan excused herself, explaining there was something she needed to take care of here. She promised she would meet us back at the Gnawed Noble. I didn’t ask what she was going to do, I suspected it had something to do with disposing of bodies. I let her take Asher for some extra muscle. He was probably not going to carry a dead body for her, but he had a keen nose and good ears. He would be useful when traveling through a busy city with a dead body. And he’d come and find me if she got into trouble.

Alistair and I agreed to have another drink with Sanga, just one. She was well-spoken, and her establishment was a lot nicer than most whorehouses. I could see why The Pearl was known as one of the more respectable establishments. Her clientele consisted mostly of noblemen and rich merchants. I was just about to pry her for information when I heard shouting. I looked at Alistair, who gave me a shrug.

“We didn’t do it,” I announced to Sanga. She responded with a flat look.

When I turned to see what the ruckus was all about, I saw three men engaging a woman. At first I was tempted to jump in and help, but when I saw her fight, I decided she didn’t need my rescuing. The woman was fast as lightning, never taking a single hit and laughing at her opponents as she drove them back. They fled when they saw they weren’t going to win.

I approached her when the fight was over, “Ah, a Grey Warden,” she said in a friendly and melodious voice, “oh, don’t look so surprised. I have seen many of your kind in my journeys and there is always something… odd… about you. But, Grey Warden or no, it is refreshing to see another woman who answers to no one.” I smiled and extended my hand.

“Call me Fela, this is Alistair,” I said, “I came over to compliment your skills as a duellist.”  
She took my hand, “thank you, you may call me Isabella, I’m the captain of the Siren’s Call. We are docked here in Denerim for resupplying. And other pleasures,” she gave me a wicked smile.

She was beautiful, full lips, amber coloured eyes, tanned skin… And a captain of a ship. I’d be lying if I said she didn’t remind me of Alissa, I think Alistair was on to me. He gave me knowing look, and a sinful smile.

“You made short work of those men,” I said, Isabella laughed, “yes, they were a sorry lot. I don’t think they’ll be coming back,” she replied.  
“I don’t suppose we can share some of our knowledge and experience? One duellist to another?” I asked sweetly.

Isabella raised her eyebrows and chuckled, “an unusual request, coming from a fearsome slayer of darkspawn. I am flattered that you wish to learn from me. Sweet thing.”

She was flirting with me, I didn’t mind it one bit. I smiled at her again.

“It is a rare thing to find someone who fights like you do, quickness and grace serve us better than brute strength and muscle,” I replied, “such an opportunity as this does not happen often. I would hate to squander it and not get to know you better.”

I was responding to Isabella’s flirting, and Alistair picked up on it. Giving me a glance and eyeing Isabella up and down.

“Hmm, I do make a point of getting to know anyone who wishes to learn from me,” she said.  
“What do you propose?” I asked.  
“How about a game of Wicked Grace?” she said innocently.  
“Really? Is there no… other way, to get better acquainted?” I asked her with a mischievous look.  
“Perhaps, what did you have in mind?” she said.  
I leaned in close, “perhaps we can go somewhere more private, I could show you,” I suggested.

A wicked grin unfolded around Isabella’s lips, “oh, and now, you have piqued my interest. It would surely be rude of me to decline such a… delicious offer.” I returned her grin.

“Wait,” Alistair said, “are you suggesting… with her? I mean… Wow, and here I am, awake and everything.” I could tell that the thought excited him, even if he was a little uncertain about how to respond.  
“Perhaps your friend is feeling left out,” Isabella said, “there is always room for one more, yes?” she licked her lips after she said it and gave Alistair a hungry look.  
I turned to face Alistair, “I was hoping you would be open to such a thing, it would be interesting. For both of us,” I said with my sweetest smile.  
“Interesting she says, like it is a good book or maybe a delightful pastry…” he said, mostly to himself.

“Well, I admit it. I am a weak, weak man. I guess I’ll have to play along,” he decided.  
“Come, my ship is down by the docks. I’m sure you’ll find my cabins quite… comfortable,” Isabella said, and she led the way.

* * *

They were comfortable indeed, Isabella poured us some wine while I helped Alistair out of his armor.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked nervously.  
“Yes I am, perhaps I can give you a more… visual description of what I did with Alissa,” I replied.  
“You are terrible,” he said with a smile, “I know,” I replied and leaned in to him to whisper in his ear.

“And I know you love it. Tell me, isn't your mind running wild with all kinds of naughty thoughts the Chantry failed to beat out of you? Aren't you curious?” Alistair chuckled and kissed me. I heard Isabella giggle behind me.

“You are exactly the kind of man girls like us like to corrupt,” she handed us our wine and put a hand on my hip, pulling me up against her.  
“We just can’t help ourselves,” she deftly undid the clasps of my armor with one hand.  
“Would you like to watch me kiss her?” she asked Alistair.

He sat back in a chair and nodded, Isabella put down her wine and started kissing me while she removed my armor. I licked her bottom lip and gently bit down. Isabella responded by pulling me closer against herself and parting her lips to meet my tongue with hers.

Alistair sipped his wine as he watched us kiss and undress each other, trailing circles with one of his fingers on the armrest. The way he sat there, calm and patient, it made me shiver to look at him. There was a ravenous hunger in his eyes, but he controlled it masterfully. I held his gaze as I kissed Isabella, devouring her. Running my tongue down her neck, pressing her body against mine. She moaned, moving her hands from my ass up my back. She stopped when she felt the stitches.

“Oh, my dear, who did this to you?” she whispered against my lips while trailing the wound gently with her fingers.  
“Pride demon,” I whispered back.  
“I do hope you killed it, such beautiful skin…” she replied as one of her hands started kneading one of my breasts while the other ran further up my back to trail the scars left by the older wounds.  
“I did not, I have Alistair to thank for that,” I replied. Isabella turned to face him.  
“Truly? I say we should properly thank the man who slayed a pride demon.” She took my hand and we slowly approached Alistair. 

I went down on my knees in front of him while Isabella started kissing him. His hands ran up her body as I unfastened his trousers. He was rock hard, and I took him into my mouth immediately.

Alistair moaned into Isabella’s mouth. She pulled off his shirt, exploring his muscular chest and shoulders with her hands. Meanwhile I ran my tongue up and down his length, looking up at him as I did so. Isabella kneeled next to me, and her tongue joined mine. Alistair moaned louder and took a tight hold of the armrests of his chair. He looked down on us and breathed in sharply though his teeth before closing his eyes and throwing his head back. Our tongues moved tantalizingly slow, playing with one another as much as we were playing with Alistair, I dug my fingers into his thigh as I felt his breathing become faster and his legs tense.

“Such self-restraint,” Isabella complimented him with a devious look in her eyes.  
“Wait until it breaks,” I whispered back to her while I looked Alistair straight into his eyes. It was a direct challenge, and the slight quirk of the corner of his mouth told me he accepted.

He responded by pulling me up and kissing me with vigour, “you’ll have to work a little harder for that, my love,” he told me in a hoarse voice. He rose from the chair, running his fingers through my hair, I gave him a devious smile.

“I’m counting on it,” I replied with one hand on his waist and the other on his neck, standing on my toes to kiss him. He closed his eyes as Isabella took him in her mouth again. He tangled the fingers of his free hand in my hair while he kissed me with such passion it made my knees weak. Meanwhile. I felt Isabella’s hand slowly moving up my thigh. She knew exactly where to go. I gasped as she slid two fingers inside.

Alistair let go of my hair and moved his fingers to rub me while she teased and moved inside me. Her fingers were calloused, but surprisingly soft. And _Maker_ did she have clever hands. I let out a moan into Alistair’s mouth, he responded with a dark chuckle, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to lick them before continuing to rub my clit. Having them both work on me like that felt _exquisite._ It made heat flare between my legs and I could feel a drop of my own juices run down my thigh. I tried keeping my eyes open to hold Alistair’s gaze but a wave of hot sizzling pleasure had them fall shut when Isabella added a third finger.

“I think it might _your_ self-restraint that breaks first-” Alistair’s whisper got cut off when Isabella took in his full length and swallowed, his fingers faltered and he let out a growl, squeezing his eyes shut. I took the opportunity to bite his lower lip in a hungry kiss, sucking it between my teeth and teasing with my tongue.  
"You say that as if I ever had any to begin with," I answered.

Isabella had us both at her mercy, and she knew it. She took her time playing with us, all skilled fingers and hungry mouth. Alistair’s grip around my waist tightened, pulling me closer against him to resume the kiss. He devoured me, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. They reduced me to short gasping breaths, revelling in the pleasure they were giving me.

Isabella got up and guided us to her bed.

She pushed me down, trailing kisses from my neck down to my breasts. She lay next to me, Alistair on my other side. He joined her, covering my body in hot kisses and needy touches. Isabella gently kissed the inside of my thighs before kissing me where I was most sensitive. The feel of her tongue causing me to let out a surprised noise. Meanwhile, Alistair kissed me deeply, and Isabella moved to press him down on his back and started working him with her hand while she worked me with her tongue. My hand joined hers and I turned my head to be able to kiss him.

I wrapped one leg around Isabella's shoulders, hooking my heel onder one arm and pulling her up and against me. She moved with me, moving further up to catch my lips in a long, savoury kiss. Her body pressed against mine, Alistair was watching us again, slowly running his hand down Isabella’s back. She gasped as he slid a finger inside of her, meanwhile leaning in to kiss both of us. I reached down to rub Isabella, making her moan into my mouth. She arched her back while still laying on top of me. I licked her neck as she threw her head back, gently biting down on the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

“Fuck her, Alistair,” I whispered.

He got up to position himself behind Isabella while she was still on top of me, she cried out in pleasure when he pushed himself inside of her. I ran my fingernails from her ass up her back, taking her face into my hands and kissing her again. Alistair moved slowly, allowing Isabella to savour the feeling of both our bodies pressed against hers. I moved along with them, rubbing her gently to amplify her pleasure. Isabella moaned wantonly, fisting one hand in my hair as she kissed me. With the other she gently kneaded one of my breasts. 

Alistair controlled the pace, and he had decided to go with long savouring strokes. She pulled back from the kiss and cried out when I caught her clit between my fingertips, grinding back against my fingers. There was no rush, but I liked the sounds she made. She was... expressive, the sound of her voice was rich and deep, it was _hot._ So I played with her, starting in a slow rhythm to match Alistair's. I kept my touches light, rubbing her in a circular motion. I reached for her ass with my other hand, taking a handful of firm flesh. 

Isabella broke the kiss to gasp for breath when Alistair picked up the pace, probably reaching all the right places with the way he was rolling his hips. He drove her to high-pitched noises first, then they turned desperate, and finally pitiful. The beautiful sounds that poured from Isabella caused an ache between my legs that had me clench my thighs involuntarily. The sounds that poured from Alistair made heat rush to my center, I felt myself getting wetter by the second. 

I looked up at Alistair over Isabella's shoulder, he smirked back at me with a playful glint in his eyes, and winked. He pulled back, Isabella keened with the loss and looked back at him over her shoulder. Alistair pulled her up to kiss her, and gently moved her off of me. I relaxed into the pillows while I watched them, his hands roaming over her curves as she pressed herself against him. She reached for his cock but he stopped her, looking at me expectantly. I moved up to press him down to the mattress, motioning for Isabella to join me as I moved to wrap my lips around Alistair's cock. She chuckled and moved to play with his balls. 

Alistair jerked at her touch, grabbing at the sheets and cursing through his moans. The taste of Isabella's pussy on his cock was intoxicating, I lapped it up, licking him clean. She tasted almost sweet, like honey and peach. And I decided I wanted more of it. I let her take over sucking Alistair off, and moved to get another taste of that sweet pussy of hers. She spread her thighs for me, placing her knees on each side of my head. Kneeling over me, she could continue playing with Alistair's cock. 

I kissed between Isabella's folds, teasing her with the tip of my tongue. She bucked, letting out a soft cry. She cried out louder when I wrapped my lips around her clit and slipped two fingers inside her. She was so deliciously _wet,_ I moved my free hand between my own thighs, playing with myself while I played with her. I felt Alistair's fingers tangle in my hair at some point, tenderly cupping my head in his hand. Isabella was trembling over me, her inner walls clamping down on my fingers when I slightly curved them inward. I teased along her labia with my tongue before sucking on her clit, and she seized up shouted a string of curses when the orgasm hit her, and relaxed. After shocks ran through her while she panted and caught her breath. She moved to kiss me, savouring the moment. Maybe her own taste on my lips, too.

I turned my attention to Alistair when Isabella broke the kiss and moved to straddle him. He had different plans though, rolling us over and moving to line up his cock with my pussy. I cried out and dug my fingernails in the skin on his back when he thrust forward. I had been more than ready for his dick since he had sat watching Isabella and me kiss. Finally having him inside me now had each and every nerve ending catch on fire and scream for more. And that's what I got, Alistair worked up a steady rhythm and caught my lips in a devouring kiss. He pinned my wrists above my head to keep me from breaking his skin with my nails.

Isabella was watching us, lazily playing with herself. Meanwhile Alistair broke the kiss to look at me and smile.

"You're a kinky little thing, you know that?"  
"Yeah, yeah I am aware," I panted, unable to form a clever response with his cock hitting all the right places.   
He chuckled, crushing his lips against mine and picking up the pace. I felt heat coiling in my belly as he moved inside me, everything inside me tightened _just right._ I arched against him, urging him on and tightly wrapping my legs around him. I cried out when I went over the edge, riding out the waves of release following the shocks that ran through my body. Alistair was right behind me, growling and biting down on my shoulder. He pressed in deep, still gently moving while he rode out his own orgasm. Isabella stroked his back, looking at him appreciatively and admiring his form. He rolled off after he caught his breath, gathering both Isabella and me in his arms.

We were speechless for quite some time, snuggled up against each other. Each of us sinking into a deep state of satisfied bliss. I fell asleep, of course.

Alistair nudged me awake.

“See? She _always_ falls asleep right after sex,” he said to Isabella, who was now lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows and looking down at me.  
She chuckled at Alistair’s comment, “you should take it as a compliment,” she said.  
“How long was I out?” I asked as I stretched, carefully, I still had stitches.  
“Couple of minutes,” Alistair replied.  
“Ah, what’s the rush then?” I said and kissed Alistair.  
“Perhaps he is ready for round two?” Isabella asked. She got up to find her cup of wine and drank deeply.

I admired her form in the dim light of the cabin. She bore scars too, but they just added to her beauty. A long silver line ran down from her hip to her knee, accentuating the curve of her upper leg. Two straight cuts in her side just below her waist. And several on her arms and one across her back. Her golden-brown hair hung down to her shoulders. She casually brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I would love to go for round two, but I’m afraid we have some business to take care of,” I said with a sigh.  
“A shame,” Isabella said, “I don’t suppose you could leave Alistair with me? Or let me… borrow him for one week each summer? I’m sure we can work out some kind of deal.”   
Alistair chuckled at Isabella’s comment, “as much as I like the idea of being ‘borrowed’, we have a Blight to deal with first, and a civil war,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“On to our lessons then?” Isabella asked as she put her cup down and made her way back to the bed with two more for Alistair and me. We shared our knowledge and experiences, as we agreed. And decided to spar before Alistair and I took off.

“There is one thing I’ve been meaning to ask, you mentioned a woman named Alissa?” Isabella inquired while we got dressed.  
“I did, I told Alistair about her a while ago, she was captain of a ship, like you. You reminded me of her, and well... you know what happened,” I replied.  
“What was the name of her ship?” Isabella asked.  
“It was called Andraste’s Lament, she was rather proud of that name.” 

Isabella smiled broadly, “you’re Alissa’s girl! Who knew, she had such a crush you. And I can see why.” Isabella winked at me.  
“You know Alissa?” I asked stunned.  
“Not many women like her out on the seas you know, such a strange creature… In a good way, of course,” Isabella replied.  
“Do you know how she’s doing?” I asked.

“She got married a while ago, she’s very happy. Baby on the way I hear,” Isabella said.  
“When you see her, tell her I’m glad that she’s happy. And tell her that I’m happy too, engaged, actually,” I said, putting a hand on Alistair’s arm.  
“Oh? How generous of you to share your betrothed with me, and congratulations,” Isabella smiled.  
“Thank you, no baby on the way though, taking on an Archdemon while pregnant just doesn’t seem healthy,” I said with a shrug.  
“I concur,” Isabella said crisply.

We finished getting dressed and got to sparring. Isabella was quick as lightning, I had trouble keeping up with her. That was a first. Alistair mostly just watched, his style was too different from ours. And I thought I noticed a hint of… something… A sadness, maybe? My mention of not wanting to get pregnant seemed to have brought it on. Surely, he wasn’t hoping to get me pregnant?

_He’d better not._

I wasn’t going to let him fight the Archdemon alone. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it while risking a new life. Or maybe it wasn’t about pregnancy at all, maybe he just dreaded the risk of losing each other while fighting the Archdemon, like I did. If I could make him, I would want him to stay as far away from that thing as possible. But, he would never let me. He was Alistair after all. No sense in worrying about it at this time, the Blight and civil war had to come first for now.

We said our goodbyes to Isabella, and began our unashamed walk back to the Gnawed Noble. Alistair was soon back to his playful self, his arm around me with his hand resting low on my hip.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” he said with an impish grin,  
“You know how many men I’ve known who would have _killed_ for having sex with two beautiful women? At the _same_ time?” he asked, I smiled and looked at him expectantly.

“All of them,” Alistair stated.

I grinned, “yeah, you’ve really thrown off those Chantry shackles, embracing your primal instincts.”  
“I blame you,” he said happily and kissed me on my head.  
“Yes, poor, innocent Alistair. You’ve not been enjoying yourself _at all_. Such a tragedy that an man of your virtue should fall prey to the likes of me. Sharing a woman is an absolutely terrible thing to put you through,” I said solemnly and kissed him back on his cheek. Alistair chuckled. He opened his mouth to respond but stopped when we saw sergeant Kylon approaching us with a couple of his men. 

“Warden, it’s good to see you. I understand you got the White Falcons to leave The Pearl without bloodshed,” he said.  
“Indeed, they were a somewhat depraved lot but not entirely unreasonable,” I replied.  
“About that, I’ve been receiving reports they’ve been looking for you. They got wind of the price on your head and hope to take revenge,” he said earnestly.

Great. I never even mentioned I was a Grey Warden to those guys, how did they know?

“Thank you for the warning, sergeant. I’ll be leaving Denerim on the morrow, let’s hope we can avoid bloodshed on your streets,” I told Kylon.  
He shook his head, “don’t bother, you’d be doing me a service if you cut them down. I just didn’t want you to do it in The Pearl. Lots of highly placed clientele, whose sons are in my garrison, you know how it is,” he replied.  
I nodded, “yes, imagine having to explain to their noble fathers that being a city guard is actually a dangerous job…” 

“I told you he’d lead us right to her!” I heard a familiar voice call from an alley.

It was the White Falcon I had harassed in The Pearl, of course. I didn’t mind the opportunity of a violent confrontation. He’d been rather rude to me. I turned to see the leader of the White Falcons approach with eight of his men. I just smiled, nine men in total. They had us outnumbered, sure, but after leaving my proverbial trail of blood, it hardly seemed like a challenge. I drew my blades.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I told him.  
“You! No one tells the White Falcons what to do! You will learn to respect your betters, or die!” he yelled.  
“Oh? Whatever happened to taking me to a backroom? Did your dick go limp after running off with your tail between your legs?” I sneered.

I heard a snorty chuckle from Kylon and delighted in the look of pure rage on the White Falcon’s face as he charged me with a roaring battle cry.

I let him get in close before spinning and delivering a low kick to his legs. He went down in a tangle of limbs and armor and I casually drove one of my blades through his throat. It was a messy kill, the man spent his last moments gurgling and choking on his own blood. But that was exactly what I had intended. I meant to give the mercenaries a show, if any managed to tell the tale about this encounter, I wanted them to be scared to death. Hopefully, that would discourage others to try the same. I motioned the rest of the mercenaries forward with an evil grin, my sword dripping with blood.

"Come on, motherfuckers," I taunted, _"let's dance."_

They hesitated at first, but after one of the braver ones advanced, the others followed. The sound of steel hitting steel rang through the streets.

The first mercenary came straight for me, like his leader had done. I blocked the first blow easily and countered, ducking under the man’s arm and slicing at his sides where they lay exposed. He stumbled past me and grabbed at his side, his sword held limply in his other hand. I kicked him in his stomach and send him to the ground, leaving him to bleed out. A second mercenary tried to attack me from behind, he never saw my blade coming. I spun, went onto my knees and stuck one of my blades in his lower abdomen while I blocked his attack with the other. I rolled to my feet just in time to block another swipe from a sword.

Alistair took the man down by slamming his sword down in the man’s back and bashing him with a powerful blow from his shield. He turned to block another blow from a different mercenary. I kicked at another that attempted to stab me. I hit him in his side, sending him down to the ground. He rolled into the motion and got back up just in time to dodge my attack. But he wasn’t quick enough to dodge my follow up, I spun and sliced him across his chest. I jammed one of my bladed down just above his collarbone. I hit his heart and he went limp immediately. Alistair, Kylon and his men had taken down the remaining mercenaries. I wiped my blades before sheathing them.

“Did you get hit?” I heard Alistair ask. I checked, just to be sure.  
“Nope, you?” I replied.  
“I’m fine, you’re not gushing blood from your back again?” He checked my back as he walked towards me.  
“Nah, I’m good… I’m indestructible, devil’s privileges,” I said as I let him make sure I was unharmed.

I kissed him, “you’re sweet,” I said softly. We waited until sergeant Kylon was done checking on his men, there were some minor injuries. A few scrapes and bruises. One had a nasty gash on his arm but overall they were fine.

“And people _voluntarily_ attack you? Do they have a death wish?” Kylon asked as he approached, wiping his brow.  
I shrugged, “I get underestimated a lot, I’ve started to abuse that,” I replied.  
“I owe you my thanks Warden.”  
“Tell me something, sergeant. Why is it that you haven’t tried to arrest me?” I asked curiously.  
He smiled at me, “because I don’t buy into Loghain’s lies. My grandfather served with the Wardens, I know they would never betray the King. It is a well-known fact that Loghain retreated with his army, leaving the King and the Grey Wardens to die. He claims it was to save the remaining troops, but I think that’s horse shit. He wanted King Cailan out of the way, immediately proclaimed himself ruling regent, you know. Even though Queen Anora has been doing fine on her own all these years.”

I nodded, “thank you, I’ll remember this.”  
“You owe me nothing Warden, it’s you who’ll be remembered,” he replied. We said our goodbyes, Kylon asked me to come see him later for my reward. And we set off to the Gnawed Noble again.


	21. 'You Did What!?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela and Alistair get back to the Gnawed Noble where Zevran is... being Zevran. Fela runs into another crow, and makes a deal with him. They wrap things up in Denerim and start heading towards Haven. Then Fela's night terrors return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, so this is going to get pretty triggery again. You already know what brought them on, so I don't think I'm spoiling anything when I'm warning you that she dreams about Fjodor again. So it's going to be rape triggers. I've marked the triggery bit with a line of stars again, read at your own discretion.

The scene that unfolded before us when we entered the inn… I admit it could have been worse. But it was by no means good.

Zevran was playing cards with a man I hadn’t seen before. He was also naked. I frowned as I made my way to the table to ask what he was doing.

“Zevran, what are you doing?” I asked sternly.  
“Is this her then? Not a lot of meat on those bones, but it’ll do,” the bald man said. I ignored him, and stared daggers at Zevran, who hastily started to explain.  
“You said you wanted us to try and make some coin, yes? Well, I thought I’d do so by winning this fellow’s gold.”  
“You gambled and you lost. Many times from the looks of it,” I said flatly.  
“Yes, it is true. Things did not go as I’d intended. And, in order to get my gear back, I may have… used you as collateral,” Zevran said. The bald man downed his ale and belched.

“Alright, go make yourself ready woman. You’d better be wet and good to go when I call on you,” he said with a slur.

I turned, wrapped my hand around the back of his bald head, and slammed his face down into the table. The sound of the impact turned quite a few heads. He was going to have a headache for a long time.

“ _You did what!?_ ” I snarled at Zevran.  
He raised his hands in defence, “you see, I never intended to make good on my promise, I was about to cheat him out of the game.”

I slapped Zevran across the face.

“ _Never_ use me as an object to be traded!” I was fuming, my blood boiled as I stared death at the Elf.  
“I deserved that,” Zevran said with a groan, rubbing the side of his face. “You are right of course, like I said, I never intended to make good on my promise.”

I slapped him across the face again.

“You never should have made that promise in the first place!” I spat the words like venom.  
“Of course, it was ill-advised,” he began but I interrupted him.  
“You! _You!_ Of _all_ people should understand a person is _not_ something to be sold or traded! Have you lost your mind!?” I snapped, I could feel heat radiating off my face. For a moment I saw fear in Zevran’s eyes. The others had come over to see what was going on, but Alistair wisely urged them not to get involved. The bald man groaned and moved to get up, I slammed my fist into the side of his head.

He dropped onto the table again.

“Where did he take his winnings?” I growled. Zevran pointed to the hallway that led to the guestrooms.  
“Room six,” he said quietly. I turned and marched off.

I entered room six and found another bald man, in a robe.

“Who are you?” I asked impatiently.  
“I am master Ignacio,” the man said calmly, “you must be the Grey Warden I’ve heard so much about. I am glad to see the contract on your life has not been fulfilled.”  
“You’re a crow then, any reason why I shouldn’t gut you now? I do not take kindly to assassins being send after me,” I said coldly, touching a hand to the hilt of one of my blades. By now my companions had followed me into the room.

“Your quarrel is not with me, it is with the man who wants you dead. The Crows are merely a means to an end, it’s nothing personal,” he explained in that infuriating calm manner of his.  
“Yeah, I don’t think that really matters here. We are beyond sympathy at this point,” I replied with ice in my voice.  
“If I may, I have a proposal,” the man said, raising his hands as if to show he meant no harm.  
“Yes, that appears to be common policy. Let me guess, I have proven myself an exceptional fighter, and you’d rather have me as your ally than your enemy. It’s all very logical,” I replied sarcastically.

“You are close to the truth, I propose a mutually beneficial arrangement. You see, when someone wants another person dead, they contact someone like me. A price is established and the contract goes up for auction. I have here, a scroll with a name on it. A name that might interest you. You may take the scroll, and when you return to inform me of something tragic happening to this man, I shall reward you for bringing me the news. If the name does not interest you, you may return the scroll and I shall forget we ever met,” he explained.

“But the contract on my life is not forfeit, is it?” I answered.  
Master Ignacio shook his head, “that, I cannot promise you. I can, however, insure that any who seek your death will receive nothing but silence from the Crows. I can also insure no bid on said contract is accepted. Thus suspending your current predicament.” He made a fair point, either nothing changed, or I could stop worrying about more assassins for a while.  
“I’ll need my friend’s things back. Your companion brought them here. Why there he is right now.” The bald man I had knocked out earlier entered the room.

“Master Ignacio,” he began but he was cut off.  
“Silence, I will deal with you later,” Master Ignacio said in that same relaxed tone. It made me want to hit him.  
“Hand me the scroll,” I said and extended my hand.

The name on the scroll was ‘Paedan’, I chuckled.

“So how does this work?” I asked slowly.

Master Ignacio wrung his hands, “if you like the name on the scroll, you may keep it. Should you return later to inform me of some tragic accident that involved the man named on the scroll, I will thank you and leave you to the contents of this chest behind me. It is my way of thanking you for bringing me the news.”

“Well then, regrettably, I must inform you Paedan had a lethal accident with a rapier, earlier today,” I said dryly.  
“What?” Master Ignacio snapped, breaking his composure for a brief second before recovering.  
“Paedan,” I repeated, waving the scroll in my hand, “I killed him,” I said matter-of-factly and handed the scroll back.  
“This, was not allowed to happen. I apologise, Warden,” Master Ignacio replied, “you may find something of interest in the chest behind me, a token of my appreciation for bringing this to my attention.”

I nodded and made my way over to the chest. I found a coin-pouch containing 15 gold royals, a ruby pendant necklace, and a pair of enchanted bracers. I tucked the items safely away and rose.

“Do you have any other scrolls that might interest me?” I asked politely. Master Ignacio nodded and gestured to two more scrolls on the desk. They were two more of Howe’s men, an ambassador in Orzammar, Gainley, and a certain captain Chase, who was involved in a kidnapping of some noble’s son. I tucked the scrolls away, “and my friend’s things?”

Master Ignacio pointed to a chest, which contained Zevran’s stuff. I collected it and left. I chewed on what had just transpired as I walked, the contract was suspended for now, but I wondered if it would remain so if I didn't fulfill the contracts I had just accepted. For now, it was good enough. Killing Loghain should fix the problem, they wouldn't be able to collect. I just bought myself some time. I decided it was a good thing when I strode back into the common room.

I threw Zevran’s things at his feet.

“Put your pants on,” I commanded, turned away, called Asher, and left to find my room.

Alistair remained with my companions, I assumed to explain what had transpired on our way back here. I had a bottle of wine delivered to my room, and nestled myself in front of the fireplace like I had done in the Spoiled Princess. Asher put his head in my lap, enjoying a moment of solitude with his mistress.

“Good boy, Asher. Did you have fun with Morrigan today?” I asked as I stroked his head. He wagged his tail in response.  
“Wanna know what I did today?” Asher raised an eyebrow at me.  
“Right, you can probably smell it on me,” I chuckled. I reached for my pack to get my logbook and started writing. I enjoyed a blissful half hour of peace and quiet while I penned down recent events. A knock came at my door.

“Who is it?” I called.  
“Sten,” I heard my favourite Qunari reply.  
“Just a moment,” I had taken my pants off, as usual. I quickly put them back on before opening the door.

“What can I do for you Sten?” He stared at me for a moment.  
“When will we go to Orzammar?” he asked brusquely.  
“When we hit a dead end on the Urn of Sacred Ashes, or after we find it and take the Ashes to Arl Eamon,” I replied. We had discussed this earlier, I didn’t feel like bickering with Sten again.

“Did you find a lead on Genitivi?” he asked.  
“Yes I did, tomorrow we will be heading west to a village called Haven, it’s not on any map, which doesn’t promise much good. But it’s near Orzammar at least,” I said patiently. The large Qunari nodded slowly.  
“We _will_ find your sword Sten, I haven’t forgotten.” He nodded again, and took off.  
“Good talk, Sten,” I called after him and closed the door again. Honestly, it _was_ a good talk compared to my usual discussions with him. He asked a question, I answered, and he seemed to accept my answer. It was an improvement.

I kicked off my pants again and got back to my logbook. I spent the rest of the evening alone with Asher. Alistair would soon join me, he knew I needed to be alone from time to time. So it was after dusk that I heard him knocking on my door.

“Who is it?” I called.  
“It’s me,” he replied from the other side before opening the door. He grinned when he saw me lounging, pantsless, in front of the hearth.  
“I remember the last time I found you like this,” he said as he started removing his armor.  
I smiled, “so do I,” and got up to help him.

“I was just about to ask for a bath to be drawn, care to join me?” I asked Alistair.  
“Of course,” he said and kissed my cheek, “Wynne has been giving me some glares, I think she can smell Isabella on me,” he said with a chuckle.  
“She does smell nice, doesn’t she?” I replied, “and so do you,” I reached up to kiss him, and he kissed me back with a smile.

“You know, I partly expected you to recruit Isabella,” Alistair said when the kiss broke, “why didn’t you?”  
I grinned, “well, for one, she would be terribly distracting. And she’s captain of a ship, she cannot just leave that behind to run off with two Grey Wardens. Besides, our battle is not at sea, and you are distracting me enough as it is.” Alistair returned my grin and nodded.  
“Makes sense, I would have loved to see the look on Wynne’s face, though. Having regular three-ways at camp… It should drive any of our companions insane. Each for very different reasons I suspect,” he replied.  
“Well, most of them know you’re a prince now, the rumours we might start…” I couldn’t suppress a sly smile when I thought about it, “most people are more… traditional.”  
Alistair shrugged, “I like it much better this way. Perhaps I was always a deviant, it would give me an excuse for more… ventures, with you,” he said.  
I laughed, “how did you ever end up at a Chantry, they must have had a very hard time keeping you in line.”  
“Indeed they did,” Alistair replied and kissed me again.

It wasn’t long before the clothes started coming off again, our memories of Isabella were still fresh. Alistair leaned back on a sofa as I traced his body with kisses. He _did_ still smell like her, it was intoxicating. I sat on his lap, kissing his neck, breathing in the traces of our adventure with Isabella. His hands were running up and down my back, grabbing a handful of my ass as his hands slid down again. He moved me to just the right spot, and I slowly took him inside of me. I forgot everything else as I rode him. My entire world existed of nothing but his body and mine, Isabella’s smell on him. Our movements, our breathing.

“I love you,” I whispered, and kissed him again. He parted his lips to meet my tongue with his. I was covered in a sheen of sweat, making my body slick under his touch. He groaned into my mouth, holding me closer as our movements intensified. That hot familiar tension started to build again, spreading slowly through my body until it clenched and shook before it broke. I moaned and bit down on Alistair’s shoulder as I rode waves of release and pleasure. Alistair was right behind me, reaching his climax with a groan and extending mine.

“You’re right, you do still smell of her,” I whispered into his ear.  
“So do you,” he replied with a smile.  
“Such a shame to wash it off,” I whispered back.

After catching my breath, I put some clothes on and went to ask for a bath to be drawn. I went back to my room to wait until it was ready. I found Alistair lounging in my spot by the hearth. I joined him, putting my back against his front.

“Fela?”  
“Yes, Alistair?”  
“There is something I need to ask you…” he said as he put his arms around me.  
“Ask away,” I said.

“What you said to Isabella, about not wanting to get pregnant…” he began, “did you mean… Not at all? Or just until the Blight is over?”  
I turned around to face him, “until the Blight is over, of course. No way I can take on an Archdemon with you if there is another person growing inside of me. And don’t even think about doing it alone,” I said.

A smile of relief washed across Alistair’s face, but the sadness in his eyes remained.

“Is this about the Taint?” I asked softly.  
He lowered his eyes, “yes,” he whispered, “there is a good chance, that we will not be able to conceive. I’ve never heard of any Grey Wardens having children _after_ their joining… It’s hard enough for just one. With two… It might not be possible.”

We remained quiet for a moment, I was processing what he had just said.

“There must be a way… This isn’t just about having an heir, is it?” I said softly.  
He shook his head, “no, it’s not. I want to be with you, start a family with _you,_ and no one else.”  
“How long does the transition usually take? It changes you only gradually right? We may still be fertile,” I said hopefully.  
“I’m not sure… But for how long? You’re absolutely right, _now_ would be the absolute worst time to have a baby. And yet…”  
“And yet, time might be running out…” I finished his sentence.  
“This changes nothing about how I feel, I _want_ to marry you. I just, didn’t know how to tell you…” I opened my mouth to reply but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Your bath is ready, miss,” I heard someone call.

“Just a moment, I’ll be right there,” I called back.  
“Alistair, I… Suspected this… It’s not easy for me to hear, but it’s not as surprising as you may think. My cycle has been all over the place since my Joining… And… I’ve already given it some thought, and I think I’m ok with it. I need some more time to collect my thoughts on the matter, but right now I just want to take a bath with you and relax before we’re back on the road again. I am yours, you’re the only certainty I have right now. I’m not giving you up. Ever,” I got up and pulled him to his feet, “now let’s numb all that deep thought and contemplation the old-fashioned way, enjoy a hot bath with a bottle of wine, and pass out.”

Alistair smiled, and kissed me long and deep.

“I love you,” he whispered, he picked up the bottle of wine and two glasses.  
“Shall we?” he asked.  
“Lead the way,” I replied after picking up some reasonably clean cloths.

The servant lead us to a small chamber with a tub. There were several buckets of hot water for our use. And the tub was steaming. Water splashed over the edge as we got in. I poured the wine, handed Alistair his glass and leaned back in the warm water. I sighed and drank deeply.

“ _this_ is heavenly,” I said quietly, “I used to have a bath every day… With better wine.”  
“Tell me about your old life again, before you met Duncan,” Alistair asked. I gladly chatted away about my life in Highever. Now that some time had passed, I found that I enjoyed talking about my childhood. For all the shit we went through after I killed Fjodor, it was a good childhood. I told him about brother Aldous, who my tutor, about Nan and her temper, the places I would seek out to hide, my grandfather's library, going out with Fergus... Alistair listened and quietly sipped his wine. We slowly got drunk we enjoyed a rare moment of peace.

“Ok, I’ve gathered my thoughts,” I said slightly drunk, “you know, about babies. The way I see it, it is just another uncertainty on a _very_ long list. Survival, civil war, Archdemon, getting eaten, Loghain, Howe, getting eaten some more, the list goes on. And despite all those things we still chose to be together, and stay that way. That hasn’t changed. And who knows, there may be another way. There is so much we don’t know, perhaps we are jumping to conclusions. We’ll just have to see what happens.”

“Whatever happened to numbing deep thought and contemplation with wine?” Alistair asked with a grin.  
“You can’t turn this off,” I said pointing at my head, “so what do you think?”  
“I think you are absolutely right, and that you need more wine.” He got up and leaned forward to kiss me before pouring me another glass.  
“Thank you, I’m still taking the contraceptive Morrigan has been preparing for me, though. But as soon as that purple monstrosity is dead, I’ll stop. You know, if we survive,” I replied.  
“We’ll just have to see what happens,” Alistair affirmed, “I can do that.”

* * *

The next day we collected the rewards we were owed, I was pleased, my companions and I had made about thirty gold royals. That would sustain us for quite some time. Zevran apologized to me again about his behaviour the day before. I decided to let it go for now, I had no use for a grudge. Besides, the guy was there for me not too long ago in a way I hadn’t expected of him. I wondered how much of Zevran I actually knew. He was friendly enough, but distant in many ways. I felt like I was more often dealing with a persona than the actual Zevran.

We left the city before noon, and we were making good headway. There were no serious encounters, just a couple of wolves. But we had seen them coming this time. When the sun was low in the sky, we stopped to make camp.

“So, you and Alistair,” Leliana said slyly while we were just finishing up dinner.  
I smiled, “me and Alistair, yes. What about it?” I replied quietly. I felt some intimate questions coming, and I’d rather not have everyone hear our conversation.

Leliana chuckled, “you and Alistair, together, looking contented. You even have a… glow, about you, so shameless,” she replied with a sly grin.  
“Shameless?” I asked slightly obstinate.  
“So, how _is_ Alistair?” Leliana asked in a hushed conspiratory tone.  
“You’ll have to be more specific,” I replied.

“You know what I mean, Alistair and you, those long nights. He must be quite delightful, you wouldn’t be so happy otherwise, I think. He’s athletic, yes? That’s always nice. And he’s good at following instructions, isn’t he?”

I giggled, “you’d think that, but he takes control more often than you’d expect. And he often has brilliant ideas of his own, too.”   
“Ooh, fascinating. The little Templar is all grown up, and apparently he… plays well, with others.” Leliana replied, I giggled again thinking of Isabella. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“What are you giggling about? Why is _she_ giggling?” Alistair cut in and motioned to Leliana.  
“You, and your performance,” I replied with a mischievous grin.  
“My performance… Why does my ‘performance’ warrant giggling?” he asked with a suspicious look.  
“We were just talking about how you treat her in bed, nothing to be worried about,” Leliana told him.

“How I-… Maker, what is _wrong_ with you women?” he exclaimed.

“Only good things, I hear you are quite… proficient,” Leliana said playfully. I gave Alistair an innocent look.  
“I’ll just go stand over there until… I’ll just go over there,” Alistair said and he walked off.

“I do hope I didn’t embarrass him too much,” Leliana said.  
“I don’t think you need to worry about it, he’s just not used to… sharing, these things with others. He did grow up in a Chantry after all. I know you probably don’t like me saying it, but the Chantry has some really unhealthy views about sexuality,” I replied while watching Alistair saunter off.

“You’re not wrong, but I see no fault in not taking these things lightly. The Chantry does… push it, a bit, however,” Leliana replied.  
“I’ve been wondering about that, were you… abstinent? During your time at the Chantry?”

Before she could answer me, Zevran cut in, “an interesting question, surely your appetites must have… gotten ravenous,” he said with a grin.

“You know nothing of my appetites,” she countered. I slowly backed away, I did not want to be part of this conversation.  
“Speaking of appetites,” Zevran continued in my direction.

 _Fuck! Almost got away._

“Where did Alistair and you sneak off to yesterday?” he asked with a wink.  
“I told you, we kicked the White Falcons out of The Pearl, killed some of Howe’s men, and when we came back the Falcon’s attacked us,” I said innocently.  
“Indeed you did, what you did not tell us is what you did in between those events, or rather, who?” Zevran countered.  
“We had a drink with the proprietor, she wanted to thank us,” I replied.  
“So you spent all that time together in a whorehouse? And you just had a drink?” Zevran asked scathingly, “you don’t fool me, Fela. Alistair and you smelled like perfume when you returned, and you don’t wear any.”

I shrugged, “think what you like, it occurs to me you would do that anyway. Nothing I can say will change that dirty mind of yours. So I’m gonna go ahead and say this conversation is over,” I turned to leave, and nearly bumped into Wynne.

“Now there is some wisdom in that statement,” she said, her pale blue eyes meeting mine. That rubbed me the wrong way.

“Truly? Your opinion towards that particular attitude seems rather fickle,” I replied coldly.  
“Perhaps it is,” she said patiently, “opinions are always subject to change.”

I raised an eyebrow. Wynne nodded to me politely, and carried on. I shrugged, it’s not like I was waiting for her approval. But perhaps she was coming around on my relationship with Alistair. I left to play fetch with Asher for a bit, partly just to get away from my companion’s inquiry into my love-life, partly because I wanted to be alone with my thoughts again. Haven… I still wasn’t certain if it truly existed. But Genitivi went there and never returned… He must have found _something._ If not the Urn, perhaps something to point us into the right direction. I was going through some scenario’s in my head when Sten joined me.

“What do you expect to find in Haven?” he asked solemnly before throwing Asher’s stick farther away than I ever could have.  
“I’ve been wondering about it myself. We’re basically going into unknown territory, we’re not sure if it’s safe or dangerous. Perhaps you can advise me in this matter? You led an expedition to Ferelden after all. How would you approach this?” I replied.

“A good leader does not rely on his subordinates,” he said flatly.  
“A good leader doesn’t lead her troops into unknown territory blindly either. Knowing when to ask for help to keep your troops alive and well is sustainable leadership. None of us are expendable Sten, I don’t want any of your deaths on my hands because I was too proud to ask for advice,” I replied.  
“You make a good point. Very well, I will think on this,” he finally said.  
“Thank you Sten, you’re doing us all a favour.”  
“Don’t mention it.” And with that he threw the stick for Asher one final time and took off. I watched him go, I wondered if Sten was starting to consider me a friend. Most of our conversations were still frustrating. But I found that lately, Sten wasn’t being nearly as obstinate as before. I was glad to have him with us, he fought for me, protected me when I was wounded. Somehow I did not think a Qunari would take that lightly, bonding with a human to such an extent.

“Hey! Sten!” I called after him, he turned to face me.  
“Yes?”   
“I’m glad you’re with us, I know we Fereldens are very strange to you. So thank you for putting up with us, I consider you my friend,” I said earnestly.  
Sten nodded, “and I, you, Warden,” he said solemnly and continued on his way. I smiled, I had made friends with a Qunari. I felt proud to count Sten among my friends. Asher and I played fetch for a bit longer, and went back to camp at dusk.

We continued our usual routine, dividing the watch, enjoying each other’s company, and either went to sleep or took up guard duty. Asher lay at the back of the tent, Alistair at my side. He gently stroked my back, and traced my now forming scars. My stitches were itchy, but Alistair said that was a good sign and that I should leave it alone. I obeyed. In return he gently rubbed my stitches with the numbing poultice again, if it numbed pain, why not itches? I quickly fell asleep under his caresses. Feeling wonderfully content. Shamelessly so.

* * *

The nightmares were unusually bad that night.

It was as if, after a few easier nights, they were now back with vigour to make up for lost time. I dreamt I was eleven years old again, returning to the stables from riding. Fjodor was there.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

I sat up screaming, struggling against Alistair who attempted to hold me down to prevent me from hurting myself. Asher was barking, attempting to lick my face, but to no avail.  
“No, no, no, no, no,” I kept pleading, “please, no.” In the dream, Fjodor was on top of me, tearing at my clothes, his knife against my throat. Morrigan burst into the tent.

“What’s wrong with her!?” she asked with a horrified look.  
“Night terror,” Alistair said, “help me hold her down.” Morrigan knelt down next to me, pressing my shoulders against the ground.

“Fela! Fela, wake up!” I wailed, freeing a wrist from Alistair’s grasp. He caught it again before I could hit Morrigan, the motion eerily similar to how I stabbed Fjodor in the throat in my dream.  
“Fela!” Alistair called out again. My eyes snapped open, I was crying, out of breath, and terrified. I stopped struggling, and they let go of their hold on me. I raised my hands to my head, burying my fingers in my hair. I breathed in deeply, my chest shuddering with the effort. I wept like I was eleven years old again, Alistair and Morrigan holding me, whispering comforting words. “He’s dead,” Morrigan whispered. “We’ve got you, you’re safe,” came Alistair’s whisper.

“What happened?” I heard Leliana ask, Wynne was right behind her. My tent was getting _way_ too crowded, and I was naked from the waist up. Also from the waist down but that half was currently tangled in my bedroll.

“Night terror,” Alistair explained softly, “she told me she’s had them ever since her childhood. They were gone for a time… I don’t know what brought it on again…”  
“I think I do,” Morrigan said darkly. She and Alistair shared a look, it wasn’t a look of accusation. It was a look of shared rage.  
“What is it?” Wynne asked, “did something happen?”

“No-” I croaked, “no, nothing happened, please… don’t ask me about it.” Wynne gave me a concerned look, but nodded.  
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.  
“No, not right now…” I replied. Wynne gently squeezed my hand before leaving the tent and motioning Leliana to follow.

I felt hollow, like my insides had imploded. Somehow my eyes felt heavy and dead, eyes weren’t supposed to do that... Alistair and Morrigan remained oddly quiet. I ran my hand through my hair, ruffling my curls.

“This is a problem,” I finally said, putting down my hands in my lap and staring down at them. I didn’t bother covering up my exposed chest, Morrigan had seen my tits before anyway.  
“Did I act out the dream?” I asked.  
“I think you attempted to stab Morrigan in the neck, yes,” Alistair said quietly.  
“Fuck…” I muttered under my breath.  
“Worry not, ‘twas an imaginary knife,” Morrigan said consolingly. I chuckled bitterly.

“Thank you, both of you. I know… I know it can be… unnerving, to watch someone experience night terror…”  
“Don’t apologize, you weren’t in control,” Alistair said.  
“That’s what worries me… What if I’d hurt one of you?”  
“You could have hurt yourself if we had done nothing,” Morrigan said.  
I shook my head, “I thought I was over this…” I whispered.

“Psychological trauma like that doesn’t just go away, I’ve seen Templars go mad after particularly gruesome encounters with abominations,” Alistair said in a distant voice.  
“I’m not going mad Alistair, I’m reliving something. As soon as I wake up, my mind is my own, it always has been,” I snapped defensively.  
“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it that way. I meant it’s not strange that it happened again.”  
“How so?” I asked  
“Zevran,” Morrigan whispered, her voice full of disdain.

I looked at Morrigan, “please don’t hold him responsible, he didn’t know. He _couldn’t_ have known. I know he’s an ass, but if he had, he never would have made that bet. And I am perfectly capable of defending myself. I’ve killed six men over the last two days, for fuck’s sake,” I said stubbornly.  
“We need to do something about these night terrors, You can’t scream the entire camp awake each night. It gives our position away to anyone in our near vicinity…” Morrigan said, ever the pragmatic.  
“I know… I’ll think about it. Don’t worry, I don’t plan on doing much sleeping in the upcoming days,” I moved to get dressed.

“Fela?” Alistair said.   
“Yes?”  
“Please, maybe Morrigan can help, or Wynne?”  
“I said I’d think about it,” I replied sharply ending the conversation.

“I’m going for a walk, I won’t go far. Asher, come on boy. Try to get some more sleep Alistair, I’ll be back soon,” I said and left Alistair and Morrigan in the tent.

I shrugged off the last echoes of the dream as I walked. I was left feeling hollow and broken, I couldn’t take this. Didn’t I have enough on my plate yet? Of course, that might very well be the reason the night terror occurred in the first place. And I wasn’t exactly allowing anyone to share the load. I may have been unfair to Alistair and Morrigan, they were trying to help, and I had shoved it back into their faces. I sighed, I’d better come up with one hell of an apology. Asher padded beside me, giving me a soft whine.

“I know, I know…” I replied, “I should have let them help and support me. They mean well. You remember what it was like, don’t you boy?”  
He whined again, “yeah, me too… I don’t want to rely on tranquilizers again. They trap me…”

We circled the camp, listening for any sign of intruders. I decided to circle the camp a second time, just to be sure. When I was satisfied that we were safe, I went back to my tent. Alistair wasn’t asleep of course, he was waiting for me.

“There you are, come here,” he said and extended his arms to pull me in for an embrace. I buried myself in him, letting him stroke my hair. Breathing in the smell of his skin, feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath, his heartbeat underneath.

“I have an idea,” he whispered, “smelling salts, they should wake you up immediately. And Asher knows how to watch for signs of nightmares right? And he’s a smart dog, I’ve seen him carry out some pretty complicated orders. Right? You’re smart, aren’t you boy?” he said while petting Asher on his head.  
“What if Asher watches you for signs of nightmares, wakes me up when he sees them, and I wake you with the salts?” Alistair continued. Asher let out a gruff in affirmation. I smiled against Alistair’s chest.   
“Thank you, I want to try that,” I said softly.  
“Anything for my future wife, I’ll talk to Morrigan and Wynne in the morning,” he replied, I got up to kiss him.

“I’m sorry I was so short with you earlier, I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just… It took me back, to the days before I had Asher. I don’t want to be that person again, so hopelessly broken… by my own mind, no less… I can’t go through that again, it’ll kill me this time...”

Alistair put his hand on my cheek, “those are just your memories talking, bad memories. What was then does not have to be now. You have me now, _and_ Asher.”

I started crying again. I wept for that eleven years old girl, the girl that had stepped beyond the veil of false security far too soon. The girl that was terrified to live. Then I wept for my family, and all they had endured for me, _with_ me. Until I finally had no more tears to shed. I was empty once more, and calm. But not alone.

“You sure have seen me cry a lot,” I said as Alistair wiped my tears away.  
“You’re only human,” he replied.  
“I’m a goddamn mess, I have more baggage than even I find tolerable…” I said quietly.

“You’re a complex woman, yes. And I can't tell if you’re blessed or cursed with that mind of yours, figuratively speaking. But don’t you _ever_ think of yourself as ‘broken’ again. You’re not. All of us have weaknesses, even if we don’t usually show it. You should know this. Why are you so much harder on yourself than those around you?”

Alistair held me close, I wanted to believe him, wanted to believe I _wasn’t_ broken. But I couldn’t do it, the void in my chest told me otherwise. It held me in a death grip, and for all of my efforts, I couldn’t lift it. I couldn’t stab it in the throat, I couldn’t kill it, couldn’t master it. The void would consume me at some point, it was only a matter of time. I had always carried this darkness, I wasn’t whole without it. It had existed long before Fjodor. But I couldn’t make Alistair understand this, as much as I wanted to. It wasn’t like the Taint, or the Calling, it had nothing to do with that. This was a diseased mind, one that was unable to perceive as others did and yet perceived so much more. And it was mine.

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

My melancholy eventually faded to a more manageable level, though I was still in pain. We held our watch quietly. I was too tired to speak, too tired to sleep. If I kept this up long enough, my body would eventually start to shut down. I needed a way out, desperately.

 _Hack some darkspawn to pieces,_ Alistair’s voice echoed in my mind, _work out some of that grief the old-fashioned way._

I stood, closing my eyes and listening intently. _Hack some darkspawn to pieces_. There was a tingle in the back of my mind, a faint buzzing. _The o_ _ld-fashioned way._ My hands made their way to the pommels of my blades. _Some of that grief._ I searched inside myself, _darkspawn,_ I felt them. They were a decent distance away, but close enough. _Hack some to pieces._

“Alistair?” I whispered, “do you sense them?” I was trying to determine the direction the darkspawn were in. _To pieces._  
“Yes,” he whispered back. _Hack some darkspawn to pieces._ There! They were south-west of here.

“Wake the others,” I whispered, drawing my blades, facing the direction from which I was sensing the darkspawn. They were slowly drawing closer, hesitant. They sensed us as well as we sensed them.

My senses sharpened once more, as adrenaline shook me awake. The whispers in my mind became clearer, and my muscles tensed. The tired feeling in my heart faded, it was beating with renewed energy.

Grim determination took over. I had gone through so many different emotional states in one night that I was certain I was going mad after all. But not for now, not yet. The darkspawn crept ever closer, I stood in front of the fire with Alistair next to me, our outlines clearly visible for anyone approaching. Darkspawn would sense us whether we tried to hide or not. Our companions however, could. Darkspawn don't think much, if they sense two Grey Wardens, and then see two Grey Wardens, they won't stop to wonder if there are others. The number of tents should allow anyone to deduce that there were at least five people there, possibly more. But darkspawn didn't bother with deduction. It was more of a 'monkey see, monkey kill,' kind of thing.

_All the same to me._

I was ready, our companions lurked in the shadows, We would draw the darkspawn out and bring the creatures into our companion’s field of vision.

_Hack them to pieces._

The first hurlocks burst out of the treeline, howling and cackling. We got to work. Time slowed as I started cutting them down. My body was moving on its own, muscle memory kicking in, and apparently it had decided all darkspawn needed to die. Naturally, I didn't question it.

“Tear them apart!” I called as we engaged the darkspawn. Zevran, Sten, and Asher burst from the shadows to flank the hurlocks. Meanwhile Leliana shot arrow after arrow as Wynne and Morrigan attacked with magic.

I came back to life. My blades hit flesh, sliced until they hit bone. I growled out as I kicked the hurlock away and moved on to the next. Indulging in the act of slaying evil as I cut through muscle and sinew when I sliced through a genlock's hamstring. It went down on its knees, and I cut its throat. I turned to kick back another genlock that had been trying to sneak up from behind and lashed out viciously, cutting it across its chest. It stumbled back, powerless to avoid my left rapier, which I jammed between its ribs.

“Kill the emissary!” I shouted when I saw it emerge from the trees. Morrigan froze it with a powerful spell, and Sten hit it with a blow so powerful it shattered the frozen monster. I moved with quick precision, evading the attacking darkspawn around me and delivering deadly blows with each opening. A hurlock alpha came out of the treeline, sending forward another score of hurlocks and genlocks.

_There's the fucker I need to kill._

I cut my way through the darkspawn, inching ever closer to my target. The hurlock alpha howled and charged me. I sprinted forward to meet it, knocking aside its attack and kicking it square in the chest. The impact send it stumbling backwards, I ran my blades through its abdomen, and twisted. The creature attempted to lift it’s blade again but I knocked it away with a fist. I pulled my rapiers free of its stomach and beheaded it as it went down on its knees. I gutted another in the same motion, letting out another growl as I felt my blades hitting flesh again. With the leaders dead, the remaining darkspawn were cut down easily. I stood amidst the carnage, breathing fast and covered in blood. None of it was my own.

“Collect your things, the camp has been compromised,” I ordered and started to gather my belongings.

  
“Fela?” I heard Leliana ask, “you’re scaring me a little.” I stopped for a moment, and turned to face her.  
“It’s ok, give me some time to shake it off. I’ll explain it to you later,” I said calmly.

We didn’t walk the entire night like we did last time, we stopped when I was satisfied with the distance we had covered. Putting up tents in the dark was too much of a hassle, so my companions slept around the fire. Alistair and me watching over them. I sat in between his legs, leaning back against his chest. His arms around me, we stared into the fire as we had so many times before. After the initial surge of power and energy during the fight, I felt deflated and drained. But better than before, at least at the moment, I didn’t feel like I was dying. I gave in to it, at least for tonight, with Alistair holding me. Morning came too soon, after Sten and Wynne woke up to take their watch, I wandered off again. I’d have to come up with an explanation. And at the same time, I couldn’t make myself look too vulnerable, they had chosen me as their leader. I refused to fail them.

I found an enormous, old, hollow tree trunk, the tree must have broken at its base. The roots were still firmly in the ground, leaving a hollowed out stump.

_Perfect._

I crawled inside, safe, hidden. There I contemplated what I would have to tell my companions. I couldn’t lie about it, Morrigan and Alistair would know. But giving them the raw truth might do more harm than good. So what did I tell them? I mulled this question over in my mind until I saw the horizon start to show the first signs of dawn. And I got absolutely nowhere. 

“Fela?” I heard Alistair’s voice call softly, I got up to look over the edge of my stump.  
“I’m here,” I called back.  
“You’re… In a tree stump…” he said as he approached.  
“Indeed I am, my fortress of solitude. Hidden away from the world and safe from harm,” I said with a slight smile.  
“Good to see your sense of humour is still intact,” Alistair said, returning my smile.  
“I once had a cat that loved hiding in places like this…” he added.  
“You should try it, your cat had the right idea,” I replied. Alistair grinned and crawled into the stump with me.  
“Alright,” he said as he settled himself next to me, “I can see the appeal. All nice and protected.” He kissed my cheek.

“The others are starting to wake up, they’ve been asking me for some sort of explanation for what happened last night. They worry about you,” he said gently. I stared at my knees pulled up in front of me.

“I’ve been thinking about what I am going to tell them,” I said.  
“Why not just tell them the truth?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Too much truth will put me under a magnifying glass from them, I know they mean well. But when people are confronted with things like this, when I allow them to truly know me, they start to see me as a wounded little bird. I don’t need to be pampered and coddled, it’ll just feed the beast.”

“Feed the beast?”  
“The more people try to fix me, the more they keep tearing that wound open. Instead of healing, it will fester. Treat me like I am a victim, and I will feel like a victim, become one.”  
“You _are_ a victim, Fela.” I shook my head again.  
“Not anymore, I refuse to be a victim any longer. I’m not that child anymore, and I don’t want to be. I am _done_ being at the mercy of others, I will not accept it.” A flicker of rage went through my stomach.

 _Good._ _I could deal with rage._

Alistair nodded slowly, “alright, I think I can understand that. How about this, you just give them the facts, leave out your personal experience?” he proposed.  
“Perhaps that could work, but I’ll still be dealing with their opinions on the matter, and their good intentions,” I replied.  
“Then ask them to keep their opinions to themselves, tell them not to ask you about it. Wynne respected it when you asked her that last night, why not the others?” Alistair countered.

“You forget… when people in my near vicinity feel strongly about something, I absorb it… you have no idea of the effort it takes… To separate what I’ve absorbed from what is actually mine,” I said.  
“Then put what you absorb back where it belongs, with them,” Alistair replied.  
“How do I do that?” I asked in confusion.  
“Stop suffering in silence and address the source of what you absorb,” Alistair said. I paused.  
“You mean, asking them about it? So I can rationalise it?” He nodded.  
“It won’t make it go away, but might make it more manageable,” Alistair replied. I thought about that for a moment, I had done something similar in the past, just concerning a much less painful subject.

“Did you read that in books too?” I asked.  
He shook his head, “nope, I am just starting to gain insight in how your mind works.” I kissed him.  
“Thank you. I think I’m ready to go back now.”


	22. 'What the fuck did I walk into?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela gives her explanation, Sten is supportive, and Zevran is sorry. After that, the group arrives in Haven, and the curious village allows Fela to forget about all the angsty bits and occupy herself with more violence and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, more triggery bits, since Fela gives her explanation for the night terrors. So, marked by stars, as before. It's not a particularly loaded bit, but I would understand if you'd rather skip it.

I could feel the tension in the air when we returned. Though my companions were trying very hard to hide it, it was obvious they had been waiting.

“I suppose I owe you guys an explanation,” I began, and they stopped what they were doing.

“What happened last night was a night terror. It has happened before, and I cannot guarantee it won’t happen again…” I sat down by the fire and stared into the smouldering embers. “It doesn’t have anything to do with the Taint. This problem has existed for far longer than that. Now, I know you will want to know why. And against my better judgement, I’ve decided to explain what caused the night terrors in the first place…”

This was the hard part.

*******************************************************

“You know I’ve lived the life of a highborn lady before I lost my family and joined the Grey Wardens. I guess I’ve enjoyed a very shielded upbringing, I was never confronted with the things some of you might have already seen at an early age. I lived under a false sense of security… I suppose… Anyway, when I was eleven years old, something bad happened. And it destroyed that sense of security. I need you to understand the severity of the impact on my day-to-day functioning. I was brought up to trust those around me, loyal friends and servants. I knew nothing of true violence and suffering, so when I was confronted with that, I shattered…” I fell quiet for a moment, my companions were staring at me. I could feel their gazes, almost like a warm pressure, on my skin.

“When I was confronted with true violence for the first time, it was directed at me. It wasn’t something I witnessed, it was something that happened to me. Those are two very different things when one of them is your first taste. It was a stable hand, had been with my family for years, did his job well, knew everything there is to know about horses. He taught me a lot, mentored me… he took advantage of my trust. Put a knife to my throat, told me to be very quiet and that it would be over soon… He tried to rape me. I’m not sure how I did it, I got the knife away from him. But he didn’t stop, started strangling me. And then I stabbed him in the neck, severed his jugular…” I touched my neck in the same spot, the flesh gently pulsating with every heartbeat. I looked around at my companions, their faces displayed a marvellous pallet of horror, hatred, confusion, and appal. What they all had in common though, was a hint of morbid satisfaction that I killed Fjodor.

“I had fought him off, and killed him. Honestly there couldn’t have been a better outcome. But the damage was done. Every night, I relived it in my dreams. Acting it out like I did last night. I couldn’t sleep, eat, breath… my brother or my one of my parents had to sleep in my room for months. To hold me down and wake me up. The nightmares stayed but the terrors eventually faded. They only stopped when I got Asher,” I petted my faithful Mabari lovingly, “he’s been watching over me as I sleep ever since. What happened last night hadn’t happened in years,” I shook my head, “seven years… It took seven years before we finally found a solution… And now here we are. I wasn’t myself last night, for a while there, I was eleven years old again. And terrified. I’m sorry for being, well, a bitch. Alistair has come up with a solution for now, Asher can signal him and he can wake me, with smelling salts if need be. I cannot stop the night terrors from coming, but maybe I don’t have to scream you guys awake each night.” I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

***************************************************************

“Now, if there is something you need to say to me, I ask you to be forward about it. I am not comfortable with this weakness of mine, and the idea of judgement ties my insides in a knot. I fucking hate this… But there is no running from it. I feel… Like a pathetic mess of a person, wrong, broken, and weak. I am not asking for your sympathy, a shoulder to cry on. I don’t want you to see or treat me as a victim. I am asking for your respect, I am fighting this with everything I have, each and every day. And I don’t intend to ever give in to it. I fucking _refuse_.” A heavy silence filled the air as I was waiting for the first one to respond. As it happens, it was Sten who spoke first.

“Warden, I do not presume to understand your Ferelden ways. I don’t know the common response. But let me say this, your kill was just. Among my kind, your survival would be considered a victory. I urge you to try and see it as such,” he said in his harsh monotone voice.

I nodded in thanks, maybe some of the Qunari ways weren’t so frustrating after all.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Zevran whispered, “if my… behaviour, brought this on…”  
“Don’t do that to yourself, Zev. You couldn’t have known why I responded the way I did when you made that bet. It’s still entirely unacceptable, but you never could have seen this coming. I don’t hold you responsible for last night’s terror, or for any to come. There are plenty of things that could have brought it on again, remember that list I summed up for you the other day? When you and I had that talk? And I meant it when I said I consider you a true friend. You’ll have to work a little harder to change that.” I saw confusion among my other companions, all save Alistair. I didn’t feel like sharing the nature of our talk and what Zevran did after it by talking to Alistair. I’d rather it stay between the three of us for a little longer. 

“Is there anything you need from us? Something we can do?” Wynne asked.  
“Well, if you happen to carry any smelling salts, that would be a great help. Other than that I can only ask for your honesty, and maybe your patience every now and again,” I added the last bit with a tired smile.

“Anything else? I’d like to break the tension and get going,” I said. My companions nodded and got up to gather their things. Alistair kissed my cheek before doing the same. I was glad to be on the road again soon, and go back to normal for a bit.

* * *

The next days were exhausting. Alistair and Asher did their parts marvelously, which isn’t to say I got much sleep, and neither did Alistair.

He had to wake me nearly every hour and a half, and though he didn’t complain once, I could tell it was starting to affect him. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he became quieter. For Alistair’s standards, that is. Eventually we had to stop taking guard duty, lest the exhaustion caught up to us in a battle and resulted in something lethal or crippling. Luckily darkspawn didn’t pay any more nightly visits, our companions couldn’t sense them like we did. After about a week, we had developed a new routine and were reasonably well adjusted to our new sleeping arrangements. My last stitches were out, which was a great relief. I didn’t need to worry about tearing a wound anymore, and was glad not to have to restrain myself in battle. Alistair and I had gotten back to our regular sparring, which had significantly improved my mood. I was mostly back to my old self when we finally made it to Haven.

“What’re you doing in Haven? There’s nothing for you here.” A guard stood at the edge of the village, looking intimidating and stern.

 _Such_ _a_ _warm welcome._

“I have business here,” I said flatly.  
“No. You do not, I would have been informed if someone was expecting a visitor,” the guard said in a harsh tone.  
“How dedicated you must be. I’m here for brother Genitivi, any idea where I might find him?” I replied in the same flat tone as before.  
“Who?” the guard asked, “perhaps Revered Father Eirik will know of who you speak. Unfortunately, he is ministering to the villagers at the moment and cannot be disturbed,”

The guard replied and I raised my eyebrows, Alistair gave words to my thoughts.

“A Revered Father, hmm? That’s new, I wonder what this means.”  
“It has always been thus in Haven, we do _not_ question tradition,” The guard said with a frown.  
“Of course you don’t,” I replied, “are Haven’s traditions very different from others?”

I didn’t like this one bit, the man was far too hostile. This wasn’t just a crabby guard, there was more going on here.

“Our ways are not the ways of the lowland cities,” The guard said dismissively.  
“Do you mind if I ask you a few things about Haven?” I needed more information, even if this guard wasn’t very willing to give it.  
“Ask and be on your way,” the guard replied.

“How long has Haven been here?” I would have added that it was strange Haven wasn’t on any map, but that seemed a little too obvious.  
“Haven has always been here, my family knows no other home,” the guard replied shortly.  
“I’d never heard of Haven before, why is that?” I asked.  
“We keep to ourselves, we see no need to announce our presence to the world. It’s more peaceful that way,” the guard said.

I cringed a little, hostility to outsiders and generations of inbreeding. I was starting to see why brother Genitivi was never heard from again.

“Who is in charge here?” I asked, the guard wasn’t going to give me much more information. All his answers revolved around Haven having its own ways and a universal disdain for anything or anyone not from Haven.

“Revered Father Eirik,” the guard said, “he is giving the evening sermon right now and cannot be disturbed.”

 _Great, isolated, hostile, inbred, and led by a religious nut, definitely some creepy cult then. Maybe we’ll catch them in a blood orgy or something, that should at least make for a good story_.

“Yes, you said that. We’ll just explore Haven for a bit and be sure not to disturb anyone. I can wait until after the evening sermon to talk to Revered Father Eirik,” I replied.  
“We do not appreciate lowlanders ‘looking about’ our homes as if it were some sort of zoo,” he said sharply.  
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes, “very well, excuse me.”  
“You may trade for supplies at the shop if you wish. Then I suggest you and your companions leave,” the guard said as I pushed my way past him.

“Did it just get a lot colder? Or is it just me,” Alistair said sarcastically as we left the guard to his ‘duties’.  
“Yeah, I’m fairly certain we are walking into some sort of trap here,” Zevran added.  
“Indeed, this backwards lot is likely to try to kill us. I think burning us on a pyre would be their preferred method of choice,” Morrigan stated, she paused before speaking again, "or perhaps they'll sacrifice us to whatever demented god they follow and eat our flesh."  
“I know, I know…” I began.

Then Sten spoke up.

“Interesting strategy, tell me, do you intend to keep going north until it becomes south and attack the Archdemon from the rear?”   
“Yes, the Archdemon will never see it coming,” I said sarcastically, that earned me a rare chuckle form the large Qunari. I decided to just leave it at that. But Sten had other plans.  
“We are clearly unwelcome here, we might be wasting time,” he said.  
“I know, but bear with me for a bit longer. There is something here, they wouldn’t be so hostile if it were _just_ another village. I want to talk to this Revered Father. And hostile or not, getting some supplies certainly won’t hurt.” Sten nodded and dropped the matter.

Naturally, we ignored the guard’s warnings and investigated anyway.

I decided not to split my party, I’d rather keep us all together if anything should happen. The village was eerily quiet, we assumed they were all at the evening sermon. Fine by us really, much easier to snoop around this way. So it was that we found our way inside one of the currently empty homes. I’m not sure if it was a bad thing, considering what we found, or a good thing, also considering what we found.

An altar, covered in blood.

“Let us hope this was used for food preparation?” Alistair offered.  
“Meat doesn’t bleed this much…” I replied absently.  
“That, is human blood,” Morrigan stated, with her arms crossed.  
“How do you know?” Alistair asked.  
“I just do, and I can also tell you a person cannot lose that much blood and live,” she replied. We stared at the altar.

“This isn’t a normal village, we might be dealing with some sort of cult here. Let’s see what else we can find, this altar is not exactly hidden. Maybe this is the only one but I doubt it,” I said and I turned to leave. The others followed.

We looked around for a bit more before we went to get supplies. The merchant was just as unwelcoming as the guard had been, but he was willing to trade. While Sten and Zevran were restocking on food, medical supplies, and other items, I snuck into the backroom. It looked normal at first, until I made it to the back.

A man lay in a pool of blood. I could only hope most of the wounds were inflicted after death. He had been horribly mutilated in what looked like some sort of ritual. He bore Arl Eamon's sigil.

I made no attempt to hide my return from the backroom, ignoring the merchant’s accusations and threats. When he attacked, I didn’t hesitate, the man had to die. I gutted him in his own shop.

“You could have started with that, save us a some money, no?” Zevran said as the man thumped to the floor, his hands pressed against his stomach to prevent his entrails from sliding out. Some of my other companions, Alistair amongst them, looked at me in horror.

“Check the back room before you judge me,” I told them quietly. They still looked horrified when they came back, of course, but now they understood exactly why I had executed the man like I did.  
“I’ve seen enough here, let’s go find this Revered Father,” I said, I was met with assenting looks and nods.

Upon leaving the shop, we were attacked immediately. Not so strange, considered I had just killed one of their own in his own house. What I did find strange was how they knew so soon. They must have had someone following us. The villagers were vicious, but they weren’t trained. Their weapons were mostly tools, such as pitchforks, hammers, torches, and butcher’s knives. Maybe the odd ladle. It wasn’t much of a challenge to cut them down, and that's precisely what made it feel like slaughter. After that we went straight for the Chantry. Encountering more villagers on the way.

There was no reasoning with them, it was either them or us.


	23. The Cult of Andraste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group meets the Revered Father, it doesn't go well. On the other hand, they find brother Genitivi, who points them to the Temple they need to loot. Sorry, visit. The Guardian is less than helpful, but they make it through and reach the Ashes nonetheless.

I pushed the large wooden doors to the Chantry open. A man who I assumed would be the Revered Father, was speaking as we entered.

“We are blessed beyond measure, we are chosen by the Holy and Beloved to be her guardians. This sacred duty is given to us alone, rejoice, my brethren, and prepare your hearts to receive her. Lift up your voices, and despair not, for She will raise Her faithful servants to glory when Her-”

He stopped speaking when he noticed me and my companions approach. The attending villagers moved aside to let us trough, whispering under their breaths.

“Ah, welcome. I heard we had visitors wandering about the village, I trust you’ve enjoyed your time in Haven so far,” the man said with a badly feigned air of hospitality.  
“Are we to exchange pleasantries? Odd after such a cold welcoming. Not to mention the bloodied altars and dismembered Redcliffe knights,” I said bluntly, and looked the man straight into his eyes. I saw nothing but disdain.  
“We owe you no explanations for our actions, we have a sacred duty. Failure to protect Her would be a far greater sin, all will be forgiven,” he replied solemnly and ordered the remaining villagers to attack.

Eirik turned out to be a mage, but not a particularly good one. I was close enough to cut him before he managed to cast a spell. Stunned by my interruption, he stared at me with a furious hatred. My blade found the space between two ribs, I angled it so I hit his heart as I pushed it into his flesh. I was hit in the leg by an arrow as I turned, that was the first and last bow I had seen in that village.

Morrigan blasted the archer with fire and rushed over to help me. The others kept the other villagers away from us, forming a defensive line. Morrigan tore at my trousers where the arrow stuck out of my leg.

“You’ll be fine,” she said, “just don’t pull it out, let Wynne do that. You’d do more damage than good.”

I nodded at her, reached down, took a deep breath, and broke off the shaft of the arrow with a scream. My leg flared with pain as the tip of the arrow, still embedded in my flesh, moved slightly while I broke the shaft. I channelled it into rage, getting back into the fight with vigour. Each wave of pain just made me angrier and I slashed, swiped, and stabbed only harder at the villagers that remained. Sten eventually cut down the last one.

I limped around for a bit, sat, and cursed, holding my leg and winching.

“This hurts like a bitch,” I snapped at myself.  
“Language young lady,” Wynne said as she kneeled down next to me and examined the wound.

“Are there any of those arrows still intact? I want to see the tips.” Alistair hurried to the charred body of the archer and shook some arrowheads out of the charred quiver. He took them over to Wynne.  
“Regular, but pulling it out is not going to be an option,” he said as he knelt down at my other side. He shared a painful look with Wynne.  
“You’re not going to like this,” she said apologetically, “I am going to have to cut it out.”  
I frowned, “I figured as much… so a numbing poultice isn’t going to do much good then, is it?” I replied while staring at my wound.  
Wynne shook her head, “I can’t do this without inflicting a lot of pain. And you’ll need stitches, _again_.”  
“We should get this over with then… When you start cutting, please ignore everything that comes out of my mouth. I don’t suppose anyone has any booze on them?” I asked with a wry smile.

“No! No liquor for you, there is going to be enough bleeding as it is,” Alistair said firmly, I looked at him in slight confusion, partly because he was being quite bossy for his standards, and partly because I didn’t see how alcohol would affect bleeding.

“Alcohol dilutes the blood, making it harder to coagulate. Wynne needs to be able to see what she is doing for this to be quick and clean,” he explained.  
“Well shit…” I said.  
“I don’t believe I have started cutting yet,” Wynne scolded as she laid out her… tools…

I felt my heartbeat rise with anticipation, suddenly I felt sick at the prospect of having an arrow cut out of my leg.

“Hold her down please,” Wynne said softly as she washed her hands with water from a canteen. Sten put his hands on my shoulders, Alistair and Zevran taking my legs. Morrigan and Leliana held both of my arms. Asher lay down across my chest, such a smart dog.  
“Keep her as still as you can,” Wynne said, “Fela, take a deep breath.”

I screamed.

* * *

The procedure didn’t take very long, but for me it might as well have lasted an eternity.

The first two cuts were bad, but it was nothing compared to Wynne’s fingers digging in my flesh. I screamed until I had no breath left, struggling against the hold my companions had on me with all my might. Groaning and growling I spat out every curse and insult I knew. I let out one more howl as Wynne pulled the arrow out and put pressure on the wound with a piece of cloth.

I clenched my teeth and growled, staying conscious because of sheer rage. Good thing they held me down firmly. When the bleeding had stopped, Wynne started sowing my flesh back together. Which also hurt, but not as much as taking out the arrow itself.

“By the Maker…” I panted.  
“How are you still conscious?” Zevran asked, I didn’t respond to his question.  
“You guys can let go of me now, I’ll behave…” I motioned for Wynne to stop for a moment and got up to inspect the damage, Sten supported me so I didn’t have to put too much strain on myself. Alistair moved to take over from him.

“I fucking hate archers. Sorry, no offense Leliana,” I mumbled.  
She smiled, “if it had been one of mine, it wouldn’t be in your leg.”  
I chuckled, “yes, good thing you’re on my side.” I leaned into Alistair as Wynne finished stitching me up and bandaging my leg. She gave me a powerful painkiller, which I was very thankful for, even if it made me a bit woozy.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone scream like that…” Alistair whispered.  
“I do tend to exceed expectations,” I replied with a grin.  
“You’re weird,” he replied,  
“ _You’re_ weird,” I countered obstinately.

He helped me up, “can you stand on that leg?” Alistair asked.  
“I’d prefer not to, but, yes.” I stood still for a while and took a few careful steps.  
“Could you get me his staff?” I asked and pointed at Eirik.  
“Why? You’re no mage,” Zevran said while already looting Eirik’s corpse.

“To _lean_ on, genius,” I replied.  
“Oh, here you go,” Zevran said, tossing me the staff.  
“Thank you very much,” I replied as I caught it. I was a little awkward, but with the staff I could move around fairly quickly.

“I’ll have to find a cane or something, any old men around here?”  
“Nope, just this one,” Zevran replied.  
“Figures…” I mumbled.  
“Ooh, what have we here?” Zevran said and he held up a bronze amulet.  
“Let me see,” I said and hobbled over.  
“Sure, it’s not my style anyway,” Zevran handed me the amulet and went back to rummaging through Eirik’s pockets. The amulet was richly engraved, I had never seen any like it before.  
“Alistair, have you ever seen an amulet like this one?” He took the amulet from me and shook his head..  
“Not in any Chantry I’ve been in,” Alistair handed the amulet back to me and I pocketed it. Might be worth something.

“Well, hello,” I heard Leliana say in an excited tone. I moved over to where she was standing.  
“What is it?”  
“Does this wall seem out of place to you?” she replied while running her fingers over it.  
“Maybe… the stones are different here… And now I see marks on the floor, it’s a hidden door.”

Leliana pushed and it slid open. Inside lay a man on the ground, he didn’t look too good. I hobbled my way over to check on him.

“Who are you? They… they send you to finish it?” he asked in a tired and beaten voice.  
“Brother Genitivi?” I asked hesitantly.  
“You’re… You’re not one of them. Thank the Maker…” he replied.  
“I read your notes in Denerim, you found the location of the Urn, then?”  
“So it seems, they go through great pains to keep it well hidden. I… Ungh,” he groaned in pain.

“The leg’s not doing so well… and I can’t feel my foot…” he said as he struggled to sit up.  
“Wynne, can you help?” I asked.   
“I can set the leg, and ease some of the pain. But he’ll need a lot of rest in order to heal,” she replied.

“I don’t have time to rest now, not when I’m so close. The Urn is just up that mountain,” Genitivi said.  
“I need to get to the Ashes, the Arl has been poisoned and he needs them,” I said, this was good. The Urn was within our grasp.  
“The Arl has been poisoned? Will he survive?” Genitivi asked.  
“Not without the Ashes,” I said bluntly. I needed him to point me in a direction already.

“Haven lies in the shadow of the mountain that holds the Urn. There is a temple there, build to protect it,” Genitivi replied, “the door is always locked, but I know what the key is. Eirik wears a medallion that opens the temple door. I’ve seen what he does with it.”  
“This medallion?” I asked and held up the copper amulet Zevran had looted.  
“Yes, that is your key. Take me to the mountainside, and I’ll show you,” Genitivi said, I saw the look of excitement in his eyes. He was so close he could almost taste it. This man had been hunting for the Urn for years.

“Are you sure you can make the journey?” I asked him, looking at his leg.  
“It’s not that far, and, would you let me lean on you? The Urn is any pain worth enduring.” I looked back at my companions,  
“I’ll help him walk,” Alistair volunteered.  
“Alright then, you’re coming with us,” I said to brother Genitivi. I couldn’t rob this man of finally finding what he had been searching after all these years.  
“Thank you! I promise, I won’t slow you down.”  
“Don’t worry,” I said, “you’re not the only one with a bum leg.” 

After a while, Wynne’s painkiller kicked in and I didn’t need to lean on the staff anymore. My leg was a bit stiff but walking did it some good. Genitivi showed us the way into the mountain, manipulating the medallion and turning it into a key. He stayed behind at the entrance, it would keep him out of trouble if we killed anything we encountered. We found more villagers, or rather, cultists, inside the temple. Fighting our way through the first section of the temple before entering the caverns. Which were crawling with giant spiders, drakes, and more cultists. The spiders bothered me more than they should have, but there was just something about the eight-legged monstrosities that made my skin crawl. It’s an instinctual thing I guess. I happily hacked them to pieces of course, made a point of it, in fact. I did not relinquish the thought of leaving any alive to sneak up behind us. Stealthy motherfuckers.

From what we found, I’d say that they were breeding the drakes, raising them. We found entire nurseries for the eggs and pens for the younger animals. They were tough too, their thick scaly skin made it difficult to wound them. I gathered some of them, maybe they were worth something. They were rare for sure. The caverns were vast, as we went in further, we started encountering larger drakes. The ground shook as they ran and some of them actually spat fire. Eventually the caverns led to another man-made structure. We met more cultists, and father Kolgrim.

* * *

They were indeed breeding dragons, in fact they were worshipping them. This was a cult of dragon-worshippers that believed Andraste had reincarnated.

Loopy motherfuckers.

“Stop! You will go no further,” a large man with a large axe said in a low raspy voice.   
“Oh, is that so?” I asked with a devious smile.   
“You have defiled our temple! You have spilled the blood of the faithful and slaughtered our young!” he said in an accusing tone.

“No more! You will tell me now stranger, why have you done all this, why have you come here?” he demanded.   
“I’ve come for the Ashes of Andraste,” I said flippantly, as if there were no other reason to be there.   
“You did all this for an ancient relic? Know this, stranger… The Prophet Andraste has overcome death itself, and has returned to Her faithful in a form more radiant than you can ever imagine! Not even the Tevinter Imperium could hope to slay her now. What hope do you have?”

I shrugged, I wasn't here to slay the supposed 'risen Andraste' anyway.

“What happened to the Ashes?” I asked.   
“They are still within the temple, but why do we need ashes when we serve the risen Andraste in all her glory?” Kolgrim replied.   
“Indeed, why do you, so you don’t mind if I take a pinch?” I asked.   
“So you are after the Ashes then, hmm… perhaps there is a way that you can make up for your desecration of our home and temple,” father Kolgrim mused. I raised a hand.

“I can feel a request coming, I’ll save you the time. I’m not doing anything for you,” I said clearly and calmly.   
“Perhaps, we can hear Father Kolgrim out, we may find that there is no need for all this slicing and dicing,” Zevran said.   
“I thought you liked slicing and dicing,” I replied.   
“Only when it’s polite and appropriate. Or for a great deal of coin. Bizarre, I know. But there it is. What would it hurt, let him talk.” he countered.   
“You know they’ll murder us as soon as we let our guard down,” I said loud enough for Kolgrim to hear, I was fine with him hearing this.   
“Good point, he does look rather… shifty, doesn’t he?” Zevran said while eyeing Kolgrim up and down.   
“Shifty!? How dare you?” Kolgrim shouted.

“To arms, my brethren! Andraste will grant us victory!”   
“Told you,” Zevran quipped.

They attacked, Kolgrim coming straight for me with a huge axe. I shouted for Wynne, Leliana, and Morrigan to take out the mages while I kept Kolgrim busy. He came at me with incredibly fast and powerful swings of his axe. I avoided blocking it as much as possible, so I evaded and dodged as best I could. The wound in my leg wasn’t helping, but somehow I managed to stay ahead of him. His breathing was becoming ragged.

Good, let him tire himself out, I was lighter and quicker than he was.

For all of his determination, he wasn’t a particularly creative fighter. Lucky for me, though.

I ducked under his axe again when he used the same move for the third time, and sliced at the backs of his legs. They lay exposed just above the backs of his knees. Quickly bending back to evade another swipe from his axe as he howled in pain and went to his knees. I kicked at him with my good leg, planting my knee in his side and spinning around while bringing my swords down. They met with the metal plating on his upraised arm. I kicked at his elbow and jumped as he kicked at my feet in return. He scrambled to get back up. Fending off my blows as he backed up. I didn’t give him time to catch his breath, now going at full speed and strength.

I was targeting his hands, making blocking or deflecting me increasingly difficult. At the same time, it kept him from being able to attack. Suddenly, he caught both of my blades in a downward swing by raising his axe diagonally. He used the moment to push me back, putting all of his weight behind the push. I couldn’t compete with it, and let myself be thrown back, deftly landing on my feet. Kolgrim went on the offensive again, but he was getting tired. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Then the bastard spotted the bandage under my torn pants and kicked me, hard.

“Ow! Son of a _bitch_!” I growled as pain shot through my leg.

“Language!” I heard Wynne yell. I grinned manically, crazy old lady. A dark chuckle escaped my mouth as I engaged Kolgrim again, flying at him in a rage.

He backed up and kicked a barrel towards me, I simply stepped aside to let the barrel pass. Never moving more than I absolutely had to. I was in that sweet spot again, grim determination sharpened my senses, quickened my body and its reflexes. There was nothing in the world but murdering this man. And I went at it with vigour. Attacking with a high kick to his side again and spinning to kick him in the chest. I sliced at him, but my blade found his armor. The other, however, I managed to stab into his shoulder through the small gap between his breastplate and his pauldron. He screamed, and I twisted the blade, feeling the resistance of bones and sinew as I did so.

I cracked a menacing smirk at his screams, drinking them in with morbid glee.

He tried to swing his axe at me but I kicked it aside before he could lift it. He raised a mailed first to take hold of my blade, attempting to push it back out. I let go of the blade in his shoulder and spun again. Using both hands on the single rapier, I swept at Kolgrim's neck. A deep gash, gave way to massive bleeding. I had nearly taken his entire head off, _despite_ the chain-mail that protected him, the blade had gotten caught in his spine. A jerk and a pull finished the job. I pulled my other blade from his shoulder before he fell and turned around, spraying blood from my rapiers. Immediately blocking an attack from a cultist.

I kicked his legs from under him and brought both my blades down in his chest. I moved on to the next, he was advancing on Wynne. I lurched at him, driving both blades down in his back. I kicked him forward as I pulled my rapiers out of his limp body, sending him falling into another cultist. He managed to block my incoming attack while he attempted to throw the corpse off. I kicked at his arms, sending his sword flying from his hand and stabbed him the chest when he threw off the dead man on top of him. Putting all my weight into the thrust and crouching down with my forehead to my fists, as if I were taking a bow. He stopped moving. I chased after a fleeing cultist, leaping over a row of barrels. I cut the last man down without mercy.

I went to check on my companions, Alistair had taken a nasty hit to his shoulder, which was now dislocated. He roared in pain when Wynne snapped it back into place. She made a sling out of a piece of cloth torn from one of the dead cultists. Alistair would have to do without his shield for now, resting his injured shoulder. Zevran and Sten had a few cuts, but nothing major. I helped bandage them up. We took a moment to tend to our injuries and catch our breath before venturing further. Something told me this ‘risen Andraste’ was a big, fat, ugly dragon. I went to check on Alistair after finishing bandaging Sten’s enormous arm.

“How do you feel? Wait, I can do better. On a scale from, slightly impeding, to excruciatingly painful to a crippling extend, how do you feel?” I asked as I sat down next to him and offered him a painkiller from Wynne.   
“I’d say, fairly miserable and cranky, but I’ll live. What about you? That Kolgrim was impressive,” he said.   
“I’m fine, he was strong and fast, but not very accurate and unimaginative,” I replied and took a drink from my canteen.   
“Unimaginative?” Alistair asked, taking the canteen from me and taking a drink too. I nodded.

“Predictable, used the same techniques several times, relying too much on his superior strength. When a guy makes a 360 degree spin to try to behead me seven times in a row, I expect the eighth to be the same. Made him easy to kick off balance. After he started tiring himself out, I came at him hard, and he was too tired to fight me off properly. That idiot spent his energy far too quickly, assuming I would be an easy target,” I said with a glance at Kolgrim’s dead body, it lay in an impressive pool of blood.

“Exploiting your opponent’s ignorance,” Alistair nodded.   
“I’m starting to think good looks are a major advantage in a fight, pity that doesn’t work for men like it does for beautiful women,” he said and kissed me on my cheek.   
“Don’t worry, you’re pretty too,” I said with a wicked grin. He laughed and gave me another kiss.

“So how is your leg?” he asked, gently putting a hand on my wounded leg.   
“Sufficiently medicated, a little stiff but it’s not so bad. That bastard kicked me hard, though,” I replied.   
“I heard you scream and curse, it sounded like it hurt badly. But I also heard you take your sweet revenge, so I think you settled the score,” Alistair grinned.   
“He _was_ a screamer, but then again, I did pick a particularly nasty spot,” I said with a shrug.

“Look at us, bantering about murdering people like it’s the weather,” Alistair said with a chuckle.   
“Yeah… we make a nice pair of sociopaths,” I answered.   
“So you know what sociopaths are but you had never heard of empaths?” Alistair asked with a raised eyebrow.   
“You’re not the only one who enjoys reading,” I said, and gave him another kiss.   
“I just didn’t happen to some across that particular subject,” I finished.

“So were you trained as a field-medic or what?” I asked Alistair, remembering his words before the arrow was taken out of my leg by Wynne earlier. He shook his head.

“No, it just seemed important to me to know some medicine. Templars do tend to get hurt when they go after abominations or maleficar, mistakes are made in the field. And knowing how to properly treat an injury can make a big difference. So I went beyond the basics they taught us in Templar training and continued studying the subject,” he explained.   
“So you gathered most of the knowledge by yourself? You had no teacher?” I asked curiously. Alistair shook his head again.   
“Nope, I’m just smarter than I let people think I am,” he said with a sly smile.   
“Can you teach me?” I asked.   
“Sure, but there will be homework assignments, anatomy mostly,” he whispered seductively into my ear. It aroused me when he whispered into my ear and he knew it.   
“I’m counting on it,” I whispered back and kissed his cheek. 

We shared a piece of dried meat and got ready to continue further into the temple. Which led us into a valley in the mountain. And as I predicted, there was a huge high dragon flying around.

“We _don’t_ want to mess with a high dragon, best to avoid it,” Alistair said quietly.

As we crouched behind a smaller rock formation. I eyed the beast with great interest. I had to admit, it was majestic. Gorgeous even, for a big, fat, ugly dragon. Eventually it swooped down in what appeared to be the dragon’s nest, curled up, and seemingly went to sleep. Snorting out two plumes of smoke, looking quite satisfied. We took this opportunity to sneak across the valley. If the dragon knew we were there, it didn’t care. It stayed curled up in its nest like a good mutant lizard, and left us alone. We made it safely across and into what we hoped was the final resting place of the Prophet Andraste.

“What is this place? It’s different from the rest of the ruins…” Alistair said quietly as we entered. We slowly walked through a long hallway, weary of what might come next. We turned a corner and we saw an armed figure standing in front of a door. Seeing as he didn’t immediately drew his weapons and moved to attack, I slowly approached him. Watching for any sign of a trap.

“I bid you welcome, pilgrim,” the man said in a ghostly echoing voice.   
“Really? That’s nice, anyone, and _anything_ , we met before insisted on attacking us,” I replied in a flat tone.   
“You have come to honour Andraste, and you shall, should you prove worthy,” he said like he hadn’t heard me.   
“I see few other reasons to fight my way through temples and caverns filled with cultists, drakes, and spiders, and cross a valley inhabited by a high dragon. I need the Ashes to heal a noble man,” I replied.   
“Still, you must prove yourself worthy,” the man said in his ghostly echoing voice. At least it was an actual reply to what I had said.

“I’d say we’ve been well on our way to prove ourselves worthy, but I suppose you think otherwise?” I said with an inquisitive look.   
“It is not my place to decide your worthiness. The Gauntlet does that. If you are found worthy, you will see the Urn and be allowed to take a pinch of the Ashes for yourself, if not…”   
“We will suffer a horribly slow and violent death, got it,” I finished the man’s sentence, “so who are you?”   
“I am the Guardian,” he stated, as if that told me anything.   
“And what’s the Gauntlet?” I asked.   
“The Gauntlet tells true pilgrims from the false, you will undergo four tests of faith, and we shall see how your soul fares,” the Guardian said plainly.

‘Tests of faith’ didn’t sound much like my cup of tea. I was never much of a believer. I suppose I believed Andraste had truly existed, and her impact was clear… Which was entirely blasphemous of course, I had more in common with Tevinter beliefs than those in the rest of Thedas. Naturally, I kept quiet about it, and smiled pleasantly whenever I heard someone spew absolute bronto shit. Still, I wasn’t very devout and often criticised the Chantry’s tenets of faith. I wasn’t sure about the Maker either, though I accepted Andraste as a historical figure whose actions had sprouted a new religion among the people. I had _that_ much in common with the Chantry, I just didn’t attribute the same divinity. Good enough, I decided.

“Let’s get it over with, then,” I said with a shrug.   
“Before you go, there is something I must ask. I can see that the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past, your suffering and the suffering of others,” The Guardian began.

I looked at him with a raised eyebrow, what did this Guardian presume to know of me? The difficult path and suffering were easy guesses, anyone could fill those words in with whatever they pleased. They could apply to anyone.

“You abandoned your father and mother, leaving them in the hands of Rendon Howe, knowing full well he would show no mercy,” the Guardian continued.   
“How do you know of my past?” I asked sharply and narrowed my eyes at the Guardian.   
“Your path is laid out before me and plain to see, in the lines on your face and the scars on your heart. Do you believe you failed your parents?” the Guardian said in his echoing and ghostly voice. I stared at the Guardian in anger.

“ _L_ _ines on my face!?_ ” I hissed venomously. And then I felt exposed, this jerk was right. Dead on. I had no doubt the Guardian knew full well what my answer would be. Part of me wanted to lie, in an act of rebellion against the Guardian. Denying the implied truth. But what was the point?

“Yes,” I finally whispered, “I should have defended them to the death.” It felt right to speak the words, to voice my regret. Though I still stared death at the Guardian.   
“Thank you, that is all I wished to know,” the Guardian replied. I frowned, what was the point of that!?

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Alistair said softly, putting a hand on my arm.   
“Is there any religion that does not thrive upon guilt like a glutton on his lunch? No? I thought not,” Morrigan said scathingly, her voice was like ice. It was her way of standing up for me, discrediting the Guardian.

“Accept your failings, but do not let them govern your life,” Wynne said. Judgmental as ever, she indirectly affirmed I should have, indeed, died with my parents. I was beating myself up for that pretty thoroughly, I didn’t need Wynne commenting on it.   
“You could not have known what would happen, you did what you thought was best,” Leliana said, subtly countering Wynne.

_Thank you, Leliana._

“And now the self-flagellation? That is what comes next in these things, no?” Zevran said with a smirk.   
“Parshaara, leave the past where it falls,” Sten said in his harsh voice.

“And what of those that follow you?” the Guardian continued, “Alistair, knight and Warden, you wonder if things would have been different, if you were with Duncan on the battlefield. You could have shielded him, from the killing blow. You wonder, don’t you, if you should have died, and not him?”

Oh, that was a low blow. If this Guardian _just_ wanted to know about our regrets, he could be much more subtle about it. His tone was _actually_ accusing, he didn't even bother hiding it. I put my hand on Alistair’s where it rested on my arm.

“I… yes. If Duncan had been saved, and not me, everything would have been better. If I’d just had the chance, maybe-”

The Guardian cut Alistair off, moving on to Zevran. I could feel my face twist into a vicious scowl, despite my attempts to keep it blank, at the rude interruption. If you want to rip old wounds open, at least have the decency to watch the result.

“And the Antivan elf-” the Guardian began but Zevran didn’t let him finish.   
“Oh, is it my turn now? Hurrah, I’m so excited.”   
“Many have died by your hand, but is there any you regret more than a woman by the name of-”   
“How do you know about that?” Zevran asked with the same offended suspicion I had displayed a moment earlier.   
“I know much, it is allowed to me. The question stands however, do you regret-”   
“Yes. The answer is yes, if that’s what you wish to know. I do. Now move on,” Zevran snapped and ended his turn at the questioning.

“And you, Morrigan, Flemeth’s daughter… what-” Morrigan raised a hand and interrupted the Guardian.

“Begone spirit, I will not play your games,” she said with a dismissive gesture. It earned her a wide smirk from me, I could see amusement flicker in her eyes when her gaze passed over me. Much to my surprise, the Guardian responded in the following manner, “I will respect your wishes,” he simply said and moved on to the next.

_Goddammit, nobody told me_ that _was an option. Dick_.

When he was finally done questioning all of us about our guilt and regrets, he allowed us into the Gauntlet.

“The way is open, good luck. And may you find what you seek,” he said before dissipating.

“Well, that was peachy,” I said when the Guardian was gone.   
“What the hell did he ask all those questions for, his own entertainment? I mean, what the fuck!?” I continued.   
“Let’s just move on,” Alistair said, “we don’t want him to come back with more questions.”

I nodded and lead my party further into the temple, or rather, the Gauntlet. I was still ranting on about the Guardian when I saw my father standing before us. I had been going on obstinate rage ever since we met Kolgrim, the Guardian and the dragon had only fuelled the fire. But seeing my father standing there, it blew away like leaves in the wind.

“Father…” I said quietly, standing in front of him with apprehension.   
“My dearest child…” he began, speaking in the same echoing ghostly manner as the Guardian, “you know that I am gone, and all your prayers and wishes will not bring me back. No more must you grieve pup, take the pain and the guilt, acknowledge it, and let go,” he said firmly.   
“It is time, you have such a long road ahead of you, and you _must_ be prepared. You cannot falter. And so I leave this in your hands,” he said handing me an amulet, “I trust you will do great things with it,” father said before dissipating.

I stood nailed to the ground, staring at the amulet in my hand. I turned to my companions, who looked at me with uncertainty.

“Was that-” Alistair began,   
“Yes,” I whispered before he could finish the question.   
“Are you… Alright?” he asked.   
I nodded, “yeah, I’m fine, I think… Let’s go… Get this over with,” I said as I pocketed the amulet. I was tempted to put it on, but I wasn’t sure that would be a good idea. My father was dead, whatever I just saw, it couldn’t have been him. I decided I would take a look at it later.

We rounded a corner and found… four of… ourselves. Another Alistair, Morrigan, Zevran, and me. Asher looked from me to not-me, cocking his head and whining. Smart dog that he is, he knew exactly which his real mistress was. They weren’t tired and wounded like some of us were. Lucky for us, we outnumbered them.

Us, not-us. Whatever.

Morrigan grinned, “I volunteer to take care of not-Alistair,” she said while reaching for her staff.   
“Actually, good idea. Try not to fight yourself, you’ll likely be too predictable,” Alistair replied, drawing his sword and turning to face not-Zevran. I took not-Morrigan, and Zevran took not-me. The others drew their weapons and got ready for a fight as well. I ducked out of the way of an arcane bolt fired by not-Morrigan, charging her when I got to my feet. She cast a shield spell when I came within reach, my blades hit an invisible barrier. Alistair dispelled it and drained her mana, leaving her vulnerable and wide open. Not-Morrigan defended herself with her staff, blocking one of my blades and swinging it at me. I evaded by stepping to the side and stabbed her in the chest. She went down and dissipated.

I turned to focus my attention on not-Zevran, Alistair had cornered him. An impressive feat considering the elf’s dexterity and fighting without the use of his left arm. Without the shield, Alistair was much quicker. And he naturally possessed a lot of strength, I was proud to see him make use of that by spinning and delivering a powerful kick to not-Zevran’s side. I taught him that one. It caused not-Zevran to stumble sideways and forced him to keep evading while Alistair advanced. Driving not-Zevran towards me. I kicked his legs from under him, and Alistair drove his sword down into not-Zevran’s chest. Two down, two more to go. Not-Alistair and not-me were fighting back to back, holding off our companions by working together.

I hesitated, I knew that the man fighting my companions wasn’t really Alistair, but the thought of killing him appalled me. And then there was not-me, in perfect health, unhindered by having undergone an extremely painful procedure to take an arrow out of her leg. While the thought of murdering myself wasn’t half as disturbing as killing Alistair, I didn’t relish it. I think Alistair was fighting the same inner battle as I was, he stood next to me breathing fast, and watching the others with a grim look on his face.

Finally Morrigan managed to freeze not-Alistair and Sten smashed him to pieces, not-me wailed and went on a frenzy. I felt Alistair’s hand reach for mine, I was holding on to my blades so tight that my knuckles had turned white.

“Look at me, not him,” Alistair said softly, I turned my head to meet his eyes. He looked just as disturbed as I was, not-me would be next to die. Sten finally managed to take hold of not-Fela’s arms and Zevran stabbed her in the chest. Blood dripped down her chin as she coughed and dissipated.

“That was _really_ fucked up to watch,” I said aghast. Wynne didn’t scold me for my language this time, she just looked worried.   
“What was this, some kind of really fucked up metaphor of us fighting our inner demons?” I was getting angry, why the constant messing with my head? What other purpose did it serve than making me feel like shit? Wasn’t I doing a proper job beating myself up yet? I shook my head.

“Come on, the sooner we are done here, the better.”

We moved on to the next room, this time it was a puzzle. We needed to make a bridge to get to the other side by stepping onto the right pressure plates. I could do puzzles, puzzles were fun. This one however, would result in certain death if we did it wrong. One of us had to get on the bridge while I directed the others to where they needed to go. And since I didn't want to ask any of my companions to get onto a bridge that might disappear if someone makes the wrong move, I did it myself. _After_ figuring out the correct sequence of course, but still. 

We got across and moved on to the next chamber. Here we needed to answer riddles, turns out Alistair has a real knack for those. He knew all the answers, getting some surprised looks from the rest of us. He shrugged and ignored it. Finally we entered the last room.

“By the Maker, that’s it. That’s _really_ it, the Urn of Sacred Ashes,” Alistair whispered. But we weren’t there just yet. There was a wall of fire with an altar in front of it. Alistair and I frowned when we read the inscription.

“Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar, humble yourself before the Maker and be born anew in his sight,” I read out loud, raising a hand to my forehead.   
“We’re going to have to get naked…” I said in a pained voice.   
“Oh, that’s not so bad,” Zevran said, “not so bad at all.”   
_“One_ of your ‘clever remarks’, and I swear, I’ll put my clothes back on immediately and kill you,” I snapped at Zevran.   
He raised his hands in defence, “alright, strictly professional then, I understand,” he said and started to remove his armor. The rest hesitantly followed suit.

It was awkward, we all agreed. Safe for Zevran.

I helped Alistair out of his armor and clothes before removing my own. That dislocated shoulder made things like undressing difficult for him. We left our belongings by the altar and approached the fire. I went first, stepping lightly, ready to pull back if I got burned. I didn’t. There was heat, but I didn’t burn. There was no sizzling and bubbling of burning flesh, no acrid smell. My skin was unharmed. In fact, as I passed through the flames, I felt a lot better. I reached down to my freshly stitched wound, and found it healed. My bruises, scrapes, older wounds, all were healed. I inspected myself in disbelief, then went to check on Alistair, who had followed me. He had been healed too, his shoulder was fine. Like it had never been dislocated at all. The others were stepping through the fire as well now, and were now discovering their wounds were gone too. I jumped as I heard a voice.

“You have been through the trials of the Gauntlet,” the Guardian said, slowly approaching us.   
“You again!? Do you get a kick out of making us feel uncomfortable or something!?” I snapped at him while attempting to cover myself. The Guardian continued as if without hearing me.   
“You have walked the path of Andraste, and like Her, you have been cleansed. You have proven yourself worthy, pilgrim. Approach the Sacred Ashes,” he finished, and disappeared again. The flames died down.

“Surely he won’t mind if I get dressed before walking up to the Urn,” I said while quickly slipping back into my clothes. I left my armor and weapons be for now. I wasn’t _that_ devoid of any respect. My companions did the same and followed me up the steps towards the Urn.

They reacted in various manners, Alistair, Wynne, and Leliana were reverent and respectful. Zevran noted it was a nice vase and that he should get one for his house. Sten raised his eyebrows, woefully unimpressed. Morrigan was impatient. And Asher… he just wagged his tail.

I tried to take off the lid of the Urn with as much respect as I could. Try respectfully opening a jar without offending the jar. That is basically how it felt to me, but I decided it couldn’t hurt to try and be polite. To what was essentially an ornate jar. I got out a leather pouch and took a pinch of the Sacred Ashes, a generous one, I didn’t want to make it back to Redcliffe only to discover I had taken too little. And if the stuff could heal _any_ illness… well, excuse my selfishness but it would be a very useful thing to possess. It’s not like people were rushing through the Gauntlet to cure _me_ of anything. Ok, fine, I’m a thief. I can live with that. And since I wasn’t struck down by divine intervention, I figured Andraste must be ok with it.

I put the lid back onto the Urn and turned to face my companions while holding up the leather pouch.

“Now let’s get the hell out of here and to Redcliffe,” I announced. I made my way down the steps and we left through a side exit that led back into the valley with the high dragon, we snuck across and went down a shortcut that Leliana had spotted. I quietly thanked the dragon for being a lazy piece of scaly crap. Leliana was right, we were lead back to the hall where we had left brother Genitivi.

“You… You’re back. Did you find it then?” he asked anxiously. I held up the leather pouch. He took it from me with a reverent gesture and looked inside.

“This is...”   
“Yes,” I said. His eyes went wide.   
“By the Maker, I am not worthy… t-to gaze upon Andraste’s holy Ashes…” he handed them back to me, careful but quickly. Like they were hot.   
“We must go now brother Genitivi, we came to get the Ashes to cure the Arl of Redcliffe, and time is of the essence,” I said, “thank you, brother, for all you did. Without you we never would have found them.” I moved to continue down the mountain but he stopped me.

“Wait, please come visit me back in Denerim when you have the time. I plan on spending some more time here first, to record what we found. But I wish to properly thank you,” he said earnestly.   
I nodded, “it would be my pleasure, be safe. Until we meet again.” I shook his hand, and we left.


	24. Arl Eamon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Arl wakes up, this chapter is pretty much about their current position and how they can use it. But hey, no triggers!

Going back down the mountain was fairly easy, easier than going up anyway. And Haven… we _did_ slaughter most of its inhabitants. Those that were left stayed out of our way, by now they understood that attacking us meant getting killed by us and they'd had enough. The road to Redcliffe wasn’t long, relatively speaking. We could make it there within four days if we kept pace and didn’t encounter too many things with a desire to kill us. Alistair and I refrained from taking guard duty. My night terrors were still demanding that Alistair wake me at regular intervals. We got very little sleep as it was, staying up for guard duty would only worsen the sleep-deprivation. Fortunately, the journey was uneventful and we soon entered the village of Redcliffe.

I pushed the massive wooden doors that led inside the castle open, and rushed inside. I found Bann Teagan and Isolde in the main hall.  
“Bann Teagan,” I said as I approached and shook his hand, “what is the Arl’s condition?”  
Teagan greeted me and shook his head, “unchanged I’m afraid. But the Urn, did you find the Urn of Sacred Ashes?” he asked with hopeful eyes. I held up the leather pouch containing them and nodded.

“No time to waste,” I said and Teagan rushed off to find a healer and cure his brother. Isolde followed him, she wanted to be by her husband’s side when he woke up. But before she went, she ordered one of the servants to see that we were made comfortable.

Alistair and I remained in the main hall while the others retreated to their appointed rooms.

“And now we wait,” I said while sliding down in one of the chairs. I removed my armor down to my leggings and tunic, putting it on the floor next to my chair, and stretched. We sat across from each other, anxiously waiting.  
“Would it be weird to say that I think _this_ actually the hard part?” Alistair asked while reaching to fill a cup of wine.  
I nodded, “a little,” I replied and he looked at me with a frown.  
I laughed, “not what you wanted to hear?” I said with a tired smile.  
“Always so brutally honest,” Alistair chuckled and he returned my smile.  
“Sweetie, a village that turned out to be a dragon-worshipping cult, drakes and dragonlings trying to maim us, sneaking past a high dragon _twice_ , that sadistic Guardian, and watching your double die. Putting my feet up and waiting is a welcome change,” I said apologetically.

“That unnerved you didn’t it?” Alistair replied.  
“Which part?” I asked.  
“Watching not-Alistair die. And not-Fela’s response to it,” he clarified.  
“Didn’t it unnerve you?” I countered.  
“Of course it did.” Alistair said and reached to touch my hand.

“It was a confrontation I would rather have preferred to avoid. We deal with the risk of dying every day, but seeing it happen…” I shook my head, “just thinking about losing you… makes me feel sick to my stomach. I know you are more than capable of handling yourself, but that fear… it’s not ungrounded,” I said quietly.  
“I know what you mean…” he replied. We stared at each other for a moment. Sharing that feeling of dread that came with looking at our situation objectively.  
“I love you,” I whispered.  
“I love you too,” Alistair whispered back.

“Alistair, Fela!” Came Teagan’s voice from the other end of the hall, “he is waking up,” he said. We scrambled to get up and rush towards Teagan and follow him. 

“Where, where am I?” Arl Eamon said, looking around in confusion.  
“Be still brother, you have been deathly ill for a very long time. Do you remember nothing?” Teagan said in a gentle voice.  
“Teagan? What are you doing here? Where is Isolde?” Eamon asked.  
“I am right here, my love,” Isolde said and she pushed past Teagan towards her husband.  
“Connor? Where is he?” Eamon inquired.  
“He… He is fine,” Isolde replied, she was crying.

“Much has happened since you fell ill, brother. Some of it might be… difficult to hear,” Teagan said with an earnest look.  
“Then tell me, I wish to hear all of it,” the Arl said in a determined tone.

Teagan explained what had transpired since Eamon’s poisoning, all the while the Arl just listened quietly. The expression on his face gradually became more and more troubled. Isolde stared down at the ground while Teagan explained how she had written to Loghain and hired Jowan to teach magic to Connor in secret. He told him how her actions set the near destruction of Redcliffe into motion. How Connor became an abomination, what he did to the village, and how we saved him. Then he asked Alistair and me to explain how we obtained the Sacred Ashes that cured him. I leaned back in a chair and let Alistair do the talking, he gave the Arl a brief summary of events in Denerim, Haven, and the final resting place of Andraste. When Alistair and Teagan were finished explaining, the Arl closed his eyes. Then asked us to meet him in the great hall later to discuss recent events. I imagine he preferred doing that actual clothes, rather than in pyjamas

Alistair, Teagan, and I waited for the Arl to join us in the great hall. Sharing a quiet cup of wine. The pouch with the remainder of the Ashes had been returned by the healer that had used them. I’m pretty sure it physically pained him to part with them. The Arl soon joined us in the great hall and started pacing.

“This is most troubling,” he said.

_Understatement of the year._

“There is much to be done, it is true. But I should first be thankful to those who have done so much. You have saved my family, my people. You went beyond the call of duty and endured many hardships. I am alive because of you, and my family is here with me, because of you. I am in your debt, will you permit me to offer you a reward?” The Arl asked.  
I blushed, “thank you, Arl Eamon, I would be honoured,” I said in my best noble Lady voice.  
“Then allow me to declare you, and those with you, champions of Redcliffe. You will always be welcome guests within these halls. And for you Warden, a shield of the same making as those given to our finest knights,” Eamon said. I curtsied, etiquette kicking in. It felt weird in trousers and a blouse.  
“Thank you, my Lord,” I said politely.

“We must speak of Loghain, brother, there is no telling what he will do once he learns of your recovery,” Teagan said.  
“Loghain instigates civil war even though the darkspawn are on our very doorstep. Long have I known Loghain, he is a sensible man. One who never desired power,” the Arl replied.  
“I was there when he announced he was taking control of the throne, Eamon. He is mad with ambition, I tell you,” Teagan insisted.  
“Mad indeed, mad enough to kill Cailan, to attempt to kill myself, and destroy my lands. Whatever happens, Loghain must be stopped,” Eamon said firmly.  
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said wryly, briefly forgetting I was supposed to be behaving like a noble Lady.  
But Eamon nodded, “what’s more, we can scarcely afford to fight a war to the bitter end,” he continued.  
“Loghain must capitulate then,” I stated.

I had given this a lot of thought already, plotting with Leliana. I wasn’t about to manipulate the Arl, he wanted Loghain gone all by himself, that had nothing to do with me. Loghain was our common enemy, and we needed each other.

“We have no time to wage a campaign against him, someone must surrender in order for Ferelden to have a chance at fighting the darkspawn,” Eamon said wearily.  
“I have some thoughts on that,” I said calmly.

“There are those that oppose Loghain, though they are quiet. He has been working with Rendon Howe, allowing him to shamelessly take any lands, positions, and titles he wishes. Howe is quite unpopular amongst the rest of the nobility, many resent him for gaining so much power in such a short time. Most houses are affected by this in terms of trade, power, and income. He betrayed his liege Lord, killed him and his family and burned the keep to the ground instead of standing with his King at Ostagar. On top of that, he has been brutalizing the elves in the Alienage in Denerim. There are several angles from which we can demonise Howe, and discredit Loghain in doing so. All we have to do is reveal our shared enemy.” The Arl’s eyebrows arched ever higher as I spoke.

“Where did a Grey Warden come by such information and insight?” he asked curiously.  
“This is the last Cousland, brother, technically, she is Teyrna of Highever,” Teagan whispered.  
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, “recent events have kept me quite occupied elsewhere, I believe Rendon Howe is currently filling in for me. Poorly,” I added wryly.  
“Little Fela Cousland, yes. I thought you looked familiar. I should have recognised you. You have a personal stake in this then,” Eamon replied.  
“The last time you saw me was about nine years ago, and I wasn’t bloody and dirty, wearing leggings, a tunic, and muddy boots. Don’t worry, _I_ barely recognise me. And yes, this is very personal. But also necessary, we cannot defend a land that had torn itself apart against a Blight. Loghain gambled, expecting the nobility to unite behind him when faced with the Blight. He lost, now the people are at each other’s throats. We lost our King, and every single Grey Warden, save two. This goes far beyond my personal vendetta against Howe, I assure you,” I said calmly.  
“I didn’t mean to imply-” the Arl began but I cut him off.  
“Didn’t you?” I said sharply, then softened my tone, “no harm done, it needed to be said, anyway. We need to be able rely on one another, I prefer transparency,” I added.

“Very well, I will spread word of Loghain’s treachery and Howe’s malevolence among the nobility.” Eamon said, “but it will be a claim without proof.”  
“I actually have someone working on that. I encourage you to see what you can find, but I have my own people on it too,” I replied.  
“Your own people?” Eamon asked.  
“I have companions with very specific skill sets, they are currently resting,” I explained.  
The Arl nodded, “I will see to it, it will certainly give Loghain’s allies pause, but we must combine it with a challenge to his rule that he cannot ignore. We need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than Loghain’s daughter, the Queen,” Eamon continued.

Sorry Alistair, but this has been a long time coming.

“Are you referring to Alistair, brother, are you certain?” Teagan asked in surprise.  
“I would not be proposing such a thing if we had an alternative. But the unthinkable has occurred,” Eamon replied.

I narrowed my eyes, was Alistair nothing but a last resort to them? Or did Eamon know Alistair did not want to be King? But how would he?

“You intend to put Alistair forth as King,” I said quietly, sharing a look with him.  
“Teagan and I would have a claim through marriage but we would seem like opportunists. No better than Loghain. Alistair’s claim however, is by blood,” Eamon explained. Alistair crossed his arms.  
“Do I not get a say in this? What about what _I_ want?” he huffed.  
“You have a responsibility Alistair, without you, Loghain wins. I would have to support him, for the sake of Ferelden. Is that what you want?” Eamon asked with a stern look towards Alistair.

A low blow, Eamon knew exactly where to press Alistair, then justifying his masked threat with a deviously logical excuse.

“I-… N-no my Lord,” Alistair replied in a defeated tone. Eamon was right, even if he was playing a game. Either Loghain stays where he is and we unite under him, or we oppose him, thus making Alistair King.  
“I see only one way to proceed, I will call for a Landsmeet. A gathering of all of Ferelden’s nobility in the city of Denerim. There, Ferelden can decide who shall rule, one way or another. Then the business of fighting our true foe can begin. What say you to that my friend? I don’t wish to proceed without your blessing,” Eamon looked at me again.

Sure, leave it to me to put the final nail into Alistair’s coffin.

“Why do you need my blessing?” I asked.  
“None of this would have been possible without you. You led Alistair here, you saved my life with the Urn of Sacred Ashes. It’s your lead I follow. I am a credible enough figure in the nation to call the Landsmeet, but I hold no illusions that I could face Loghain without you, surely you see that,” Eamon said earnestly. It was very flattering, and mostly true. I didn’t like how he was playing on my pride, but he was right.  
“Very well, proceed with the Landsmeet,” I finally said, Eamon would be a powerful ally.  
He nodded, “I will send out the word. Now, before we proceed, there is the matter of the mage,” Eamon said, the look in his eyes hardened.

“He still lives, I understand,” Eamon continued.  
“He does,” Teagan said, “he is in the dungeon, brother.”  
“Have him brought here Teagan, I wish to see him,” Eamon replied, Teagan left to do as his brother asked. I could tell Eamon was sizing me up, although he was trying to be subtle about it. I suppose he was curious, he didn’t know me very well. And I probably wasn’t what he had expected. Eamon moved to pour three cups of wine.

“You said the mage helped save my son,” he said, “tell me, how exactly did he do that?”  
“There is more than one way to destroy an abomination. The demon controlling Connor was doing so from the Fade. The mage knew of a ritual that enabled us to send one of the mages in our company into the Fade to confront the demon there. Slaying it without hurting Connor. It was the mage who told us of this ritual. He proposed to use blood magic, your wife was willing to sacrifice herself to save your son. Fela decided to get help from the circle of Magi instead. Thus sparing Isolde and still saving Connor,” Alistair explained.  
“They owed me a favour,” I said with a smile and a nod as I took my cup from Eamon.  
“How so?” Eamon inquired.  
“When we arrived at the Circle Tower to secure the treaty we have with them, we stumbled into what Fela called an abysmal freakshow. Maleficar had forcefully taken control of the tower, summoning all manner of demons. We cleared out the tower, saving First Enchanter Irving from being killed, or forced to become an abomination. Fela was badly hurt during that fight, it was a powerful pride demon that held the mages hostage,” Alistair explained.  
“You’ve slain a pride demon?” Eamon asked with awe, I shook my head.

“No, Alistair did that. I was busy not bleeding out after getting cut to ribbons.”  
“You… seem whole?” Eamon said curiously.  
“The scars are on my back. I was lucky to have a skilled healer on my team, Wynne, she’s a spirit healer. I look like I got lashed fifteen times now, but the wounds were grave.” I said and took a sip of wine again. Eamon was looking at Alistair with awe now, but the moment passed quickly as Teagan entered the hall with Jowan.

“Jowan,” Arl Eamon addressed the mage, “what you have done is not in question. You’ve tried to assassinate me, and set into motion a series of events that nearly destroyed all that I hold dear. What have you to say in your defence?” The Arl’s anger radiated off him, but he held his composure well. This man was a born politician.  
“Nothing my Lord… other than to say I’m sorry. I expect no mercy for what I’ve done,” Jowan said.

I studied the man, somehow, he just didn’t seem like a bad person. This was a scared, clueless man who had done what he thought was necessary to survive. His regret was genuine, I guess that he always expected to be caught and killed in the end. He was just trying to postpone it. He wasn’t at all like what I imagined blood mages to be like. He accepted responsibility, regretted his actions. This was a man who had been running for his life and had simply given up. A blood mage should have been able to escape right? And from what I understood, Jowan had been nothing but complicit. He chose this.

“I see,” the Arl said coldly, “Grey Warden, have you anything to say on Jowan’s behalf?”

I know what he was expecting me to say, but I simply did not believe this man needed to die. Conscripting him would damage the new bonds with the Arl beyond repair, it wasn’t an option.

“There is no excuse for what he has done, but I believe his regret to be genuine. He offered his help freely, and I would have refused it. But that meant that either your son, or your wife had to die. I cannot deny his part in this outcome, as I am the one who allowed him to play it,” I said honestly.  
The Arl stared at me in confusion and anger, “and what would you have me do? As the injured party, my ability to see mercy is… strained,” He said, his voice like hot steel just off the anvil.

“He cannot be released, he is a known maleficar. He is the responsibility of the Circle tower now. They will see that justice is done.” And I hoped they would be merciful, I truly did.  
The Arl nodded, “Jowan, I hereby turn you over to the Circle of Magi. May the Maker have mercy on your soul.”  
“Thank you, my Lord,” Jowan said with a bow, and the guards took him away.

“Now, I am terribly sorry, but I must excuse myself. I need to be with my family. Teagan, can you see that our guests are taken care of?” The Arl said, Teagan nodded and then winked at us.  
“Certainly, brother,” And the Arl took off.

“Where did that man come by all that patience?” I asked as I leaned back in my chair. Teagan and Alistair chuckled.  
“What?” I asked.  
“Isolde,” Teagan whispered.  
“Ah, domestic disputes, say no more,” I replied.  
“Now what’s this about a high dragon? Did you fight it?” Teagan asked eagerly.  
“God, no. Have you _seen_ a high dragon?” I replied, and Alistair started to explain.

“Haven was a cult of dragon-worshippers, they believed that thing was the risen Andraste. We took out the cult, of course, but that beast… Anyway, taking on a high dragon seemed like a very bad idea at the moment. It wouldn’t do to get eaten by a high dragon before the Archdemon has had a nip at us.”  
Teagan laughed, “that makes sense, so what did you do? Sneak past it like heroes do in children’s stories?”  
“That is closer to the truth than you might think,” I said before downing my cup of wine.

“I would love to share more stories and enjoy your company Teagan, but I feel disgusting. I’m covered in old blood and gore, I _really_ need a bath,” I said while getting up.  
“Perhaps tonight then, you and your companions make these halls so much more tolerable,” Teagan replied, Alistair rose too.  
“Sounds good to me, my Lady?” he said and offered me his arm. I rolled my eyes, but accepted his arm, I would scold him later. We left Teagan in the main hall and left for the guestrooms.


	25. The Second Night in Redcliffe Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Fela have a conversation about their plan to overthrow Loghain, and it leads to smut. After that the group gets drunk playing a game called 'pennying.' You can look it up, it sounds like fun. Fela has a private chat with Eamon that ruffles her feathers, but Alistair fixes it before they leave for Orzammar.

I was pleased to see a servant had already drawn a bath for me, there had been clean clothes laid out too. A velvet dress of dark blue this time. The servants had also left clothes for Alistair, which struck me as a little odd. Perhaps it was the same person and they had simply remembered. Or, this was Isolde’s way of telling us she knew about our relationship.

I didn’t really care either way.

After thoroughly rinsing myself off, I stepped into the tub. Alistair did the same. We enjoyed a comfortable silence as I leaned back into his chest with his arms around me. I even started drifting off to sleep a bit. Almost.

“Fela?” he asked quietly.  
“Hmm?”  
“Do you really intend to let Eamon put me on the throne?” he asked.

I sighed, no nap for me.

“I… feel like I have been put in a very difficult position. Like I have to decide your fate somehow, I don’t want to do that. But… look at the other options, Alistair. It’s him, or us,” I was referring to Loghain.  
“If you were in my shoes, what would you do?” I asked him.  
Alistair sighed too, “the same thing I guess… But I would definitely marry me and rule beside me,” he said playfully. I chuckled.

“Do you have any other conditions? Your Majesty?”  
“Ah, now you ruined the moment,” he said, “I take that back,” he added as he felt my hand slide up his leg.   
“I can think of a few more conditions before I let you make me King,” he said, I got up to turn around and sit on top of him. I leaned in to kiss him, running my hands up his stomach to his chest.

“First of all, no more calling me ‘your Majesty’” he whispered against my lips.  
I grinned wickedly, “Anything else? Your Grace?” I asked as I started to kiss his neck.  
He chuckled, “you belong to me,” he said in a heavy breath.  
“Naturally,” I replied and nipped at his ear.  
“Body and soul,” Alistair continued.  
“I do wonder if I even _have_ a soul, seeing as you like compare me to the devil, but should I find one, it’s yours,” I replied playfully.

“I think you misunderstand,” Alistair said as he took a firm hold of my hips and slowly moved them over his own.

He pushed himself inside, making me gasp and moan with pleasure.

“You’re _mine,_ and you do as I say," he whispered into my ear.  
“Hmm, I’m not sure if I can promise you that,” I replied with a mischievous smile and started slowly riding him.  
“It’s non-negotiable,” he whispered back, “you will obey,” he added as he moved his hands to my ass taking two hands-full. Controlling my movements.  
“You may have noticed I have a problem with authority,” I whispered with a moan.  
“I did, I think you need to be reminded sometimes, that you are not always in charge,” he thrust up as he pushed me down onto himself. I dug my fingernails into his shoulders with a groan.  
“You had better make good on that promise,” I grunted back.  
“Is that a challenge?” he asked, moving his hips in a circular motion, I wrapped my hand around his neck before kissing him again, biting his bottom lip.  
“You want to dominate me? You will have to try a little harder,” I whispered.

Alistair lifted me out of the tub and dropped me onto the bed, rolling me onto my stomach and taking hold of my hips again. He took me from behind, and slapped my ass. I let out a pleasured yelp. And moaned louder when his hand wrapped around my neck, pressing me into the mattress. Pinned under him, I was helpless. There was no other option than to take it, and _God,_ was it hot.

I got up on all fours when he let go of my neck, but Alistair had other plans. He pulled my arms behind my back, holding my wrists with one hand. Still moving in that punishing rhythm, I could hear his breathing come faster. My own was down right erratic. Being taken like this _really_ worked for me. He was more than strong enough to bear my weight while he had my wrists firmly held behind my back, he didn't need me making an effort to keep my face out of the mattress. I could relax in his hold and give in, savour the way he moved inside me, the way he _felt._

I was building towards an _intense_ orgasm, and Alistair’s timing was perfect as always. It was like his pleasure depended on my own. I arched my back as the tension build, and broke with waves of sweet release. Alistair groaned, let go of my wrists to take hold of my hips again. He finished deep inside me, slowing his pace to a stop. He let go and lay down on the bed next to me.

I grinned in deep satisfaction, “you’re right, I needed that.”  
“So do you agree to my terms?” Alistair asked with a smirk.  
“Absolutely,” I replied.  
He kissed me, “good, because I was serious. I’m not doing it without you. You said I need to look out for myself more, think about what _I_ need. Well, I need you. So I ask you, Fela Cousland, will you be my Queen?” I smiled,

“Yes, my King.”  
“I’m starting to see why it annoys you when I call you by your title,” Alistair replied with a grin.  
“Good, about time,” I answered sleepily. He kissed me again.

“Shall we go see if there is more wine and good conversations?... Fela? Woman!”  
“Yes, yes wine and conversations,” I yawned.  
“I will never understand how you do that…” Alistair said and shook his head with a smile.  
“You should try that magic dick of yours,” I blurted out. Causing a fit of laughter from Alistair, I grinned and chuckled along.  
“Wow, ok, point taken. You get brutally honest after sex too,” he replied.  
“I am _always_ brutally honest,” I said and stretched before getting up.  
“Well, most of the time. And a lot more subtle,” I added.

“You did call out the Arl when he mentioned your personal stake…” Alistair said, “I don’t think I have ever seen anyone stun him like that.”  
“Well, he had it coming. We all have a personal stake in this, so does he. The man is a politician through and through. I’m fine with playing games but amongst allies I prefer transparency,” I replied as I combed my hair.  
“You don’t like him very much, do you?” Alistair asked.  
“It’s a little early to say, the man did just wake up from being comatose and his world has gone to shit. I don’t blame him for sizing up the stranger that apparently came to his aid. He’ll be wondering if I have an ulterior motive. You know, aside from making an ally against Loghain and the Blight. He is in my debt now, deeply. He prefers it the other way around. As any good politician would,” I replied as I started to get dressed.  
“Being in _your_ debt isn’t so bad,” Alistair noted.  
“He doesn’t know that yet. And he is right not to fully trust me right off the bat,” I replied, putting on the small clothes that the servants had left with the dress.

Alistair got up to help me lace up the corset that went with it, it pressed my breasts up creating some impressive cleavage. Surprisingly well too, he left plenty of room to breath, and I would be able to eat and drink properly. Usually, people pull them too tight to create an hourglass figure. I already had one, so corsets were usually not particularly uncomfortable to me. But, that doesn't mean I was never strapped in too tight and had to chose between being able to eat and being able to breathe. Both was not an option. And I used to be strapped in by people who were supposed to know what they were doing. Alistair kissed my shoulder before moving to put on the clothes that had been left for him.

“Where did you learn how to lace up a corset?” I asked curiously. He shrugged.  
“They’re not that complicated,” he replied, “it’s not much different from lacing up a boot, except that a foot doesn’t need to breath and doesn’t have amazing tits.” I grinned, and put on the blue velvet dress. Alistair got dressed as well while I put on make-up.

“I swear, sometimes it’s like you are two completely different women,” Alistair said while he watched me.  
I chuckled, “I could say the same thing about you. Amazing what a difference some armor, blood, and gore can make.” I decided to wear my hair down tonight, letting it flow freely around my shoulders and down my back. I never got to wear my hair down these days, too much of an inconvenience if we got into a fight. But tonight, I didn’t have to worry about that. I called for a servant to change the sheets, I didn’t like sleeping in a wet bed. We left the room and Alistair guided me back to the main hall, Teagan had left but we found Zevran and Leliana, slowly getting drunk together.

“Are you two playing that drinking game again?” I asked as we approached.  
“Maybe…” Zevran said cagey manner, grinning widely.  
“Would you join us if we were?” Leliana asked with an innocent smile. I raised an eyebrow.  
“Come on, it would be fun,” Zevran said eagerly.  
“What are you using this time?” I asked suspiciously.  
“A silver bit, and yes, I cleaned it,” he said, holding up the small silver coin. I narrowed my eyes while I studied it.

“Alright then,” I said as I sat down, “what are the rules?”  
“You sneak this coin into someone’s drink, if you succeed, they have to down the drink. There is only one coin in play, and you are not allowed to cover your drink,” Leliana explained.  
“Do I have to be sneaky or can I also toss it in from across the table when you’re not looking?” I asked.  
“No, you have to be sneaky, and if you get caught, you have to down your own drink,” she replied.

“So… is this basic assassin-training, or what?” Alistair asked as he took his cup from Zevran, who grinned.  
“I see no better way to learn how to properly poison a drink than with a game, do you?” he replied to Alistair.  
“No, but it occurs to me that we might be easy targets,” Alistair said with a frown.

“Speak for yourself,” I said with an, admittedly, cocky grin.  
“Oh really? Been poisoning drinks, have you?” he asked playfully.  
“Nope, but I have deft hands, and I make a habit out of studying people,” I replied with a smile, “besides, we know Zevran has the coin.”

“Actually, my dear, you’ve been poisoned.” Alistair said smugly.  
“You-” I looked down in my drink, my companions burst out laughing as they saw me react to what Alistair had just done.  
“When did you… Zevran!” I snapped, the elf raised his hands in defence.  
“Giving the coin to someone else is permitted, we must also learn to properly guard our drinks, yes? Lest we get poisoned ourselves. We cannot make these things too easy,” Zevran explained.

“You could have warned me,” I glared at Leliana, she just smiled innocently.  
“Well done, Alistair, but I warn you, you’ve made an enemy now. I’d watch her carefully if I were you,” Zevran said with a grin.  
“So I won’t be keeping my eye on you too?” Alistair replied with narrowed eyes. I downed my wine and took the coin out of my cup.  
“You might want to listen to Zevran, my dear,” I said to Alistair, “I’m coming for you now.”  
“Don’t you even start, no, you can’t trick me into making myself an easy target by only watching you. Stop messing with my head, I’m on to you, evil woman,” Alistair replied.  
“Who said I was messing with yours?” I said and looked at Zevran.

I had given the coin to Leliana and nodded for her to put it in Zevran’s drink. While he had been focused on Alistair and me, Leliana had dropped it in his cup without him noticing. I smiled when he saw it shimmering on the bottom. The game was on. He downed his cup and fished out the coin. It wasn’t long before our other companions joined us, though they refused to play and settled for observing. Teagan gladly joined the game, of course. Arl Eamon, Isolde, and Connor had excused themselves. They needed to spend time together.

As I understood, Connor was to be send to the Circle of Magi. I had no clue as to what Eamon was going to do about Isolde, if he was going to do anything at all. And I could see it was eating at Alistair. It seemed… an injustice. That Isolde wasn’t likely to pay for her actions.

Dinner arrived when we were all well intoxicated, we enjoyed another very pleasant evening together. At one point, Alistair and Teagan started comparing scars, boasting about how they got by them. Leliana was encouraging them to take their shirts off, and Wynne was blushing and giggling. I looked around the table with a smile, proud of the new family I had gathered around me. They were something to behold, even if they were a bit vulgar. Asher’s head rested on my lap and I was gently stroking his head. I leaned on an armrest with my other arm and rested my head on my hand. Leaning back in my chair and taking in the moment.

“You look happy, Warden,” Sten said quietly.  
“Sten my dear, it’s ok to relax sometimes, to rest. Why don’t you have another cup of wine, tell me some of the stories behind _your_ scars, and I’ll tell you about mine. I don’t intend on showing all of them though, let’s keep things civilized,” I replied to him and nodded towards Alistair and Teagan.

Sten gave me one of his rare smiles, and started with a long gash on his forearm.

“This is from a battle with Tevinter soldiers,” he began, and proceeded to tell the story. Sten spoke openly about his life, it was rare for Qunari to be born without horns. He was also curious when he was young, speaking to many people and asking many questions. It’s how he mastered the common tongue, which eventually earned him a higher placed position. Sten was a bit of a rebel among his people, he had spoken out against the Arishok concerning tactics in the war on Tevinter. Apparently this was unheard of among the Qunari. I noted that Sten still had that habit. He nodded and shrugged.

“So I’ve been wondering,” I began.  
“I’m hardly surprised,” Sten cut in.  
“Of course you’re not,” I said and hit him on the shoulder and rested my hand there. He returned the gesture playfully, which meant he dropped a massive hand on my shoulder like a ton of bricks, he must have been piss-drunk to be this… free-willed. I let out an involuntary squawk at the weight dropped on my shoulder and laughed.

“Now let me ask my question, you big scary man. Is there anything you like about Ferelden?” I said with a drunken grin. Sten thought about it for a moment.  
“There is… interesting food here,” he said after a moment, “you have a thing… it doesn’t have a word in the Qunari tongue. Little baked things, like bread but sweet, and crumbly,” he explained.

“Cookies? You like cookies?” I asked curiously.  
“Yes! We have no such thing in our land. This should be remedied,” Sten replied. I laughed. Of all the possible things about Ferelden he might have likes, Sten liked cookies.  
“I’ll ask the cook here to write down a recipe for you, and to bake you some.” Sten lit up, and I laughed harder.

“Look at that, your woman is cultivating a friendship with a Qunari, Alistair. Have you ever heard of such a thing?” Teagan asked Alistair, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t aware that he was speaking much louder than he needed to and that I could hear every word. Alistair smiled.

“She’s something alright,” he replied, “keeps surprising me too.”  
“Oh? Such as?” Teagan asked.  
“You’ve seen her fight, but you haven’t fought _with_ her. Sparring I mean, not arguments, those are impossible. Moves like nothing you’ve ever seen, taught me a couple things too. She _is_ in fact trained as a warrior, but the style doesn’t match her physique, so she… does what she does. She’s a kind of rogue I think, but not your regular cloak and dagger. Something more graceful than that… She’s not meant to hide in the shadows. Have you noticed the way she gives orders?” Alistair said and Teagan started laughing  
“What?” he asked.  
“You are absolutely infatuated with her, boy,” Teagan said with a wide grin.  
“Did you _not_ pay attention when she saved your ass down at the town square?” Alistair said defensively.  
“I did, you speak the truth. Never seen her like before. But the look on your face said it all,” Teagan slurred and pounded Alistair on the shoulder.

“Like you haven’t been eyeing her, you think I didn’t notice you flirting with her?” Alistair said with a raised eyebrow.  
“Guilty,” Teagan said apologetically, “but that one is yours already, it’s easy to see. So don’t you worry about your old uncle Teagan, sort of, she chose you.”

“Do they not know we can hear them?” Sten asked bluntly. Both Alistair and Teagan went red and started drunkenly babbling some excuse. I smiled as I watched them come up with some way to break their embarrassment.

“They do now,” I said as I took another sip of wine.  
“You were eavesdropping,” Teagan said accusingly.  
“Sure, if you call overhearing a loud drunken conversation eavesdropping. The rest of the people at this table were eavesdropping as well, then,” I replied dryly. Then I smiled. “It was rather sweet, really. So I didn’t interrupt.”  
“Devil-woman,” Alistair said, pointing at me. I winked at him.  
“Loud, drunken, almost-Templar on the loose,” I said, pointing back at him. We snickered like the drunken fools we were.

“I think I am about ready to retire, care to join me, my love?” I asked him and he smiled.  
“Certainly,” he replied. We got up and bid the others good night. Leliana and Zevran were still playing their drinking game, and somehow, they had convinced Wynne and Morrigan to play. Alistair, Asher, and I turned to take our leave.

“Your hound,” Teagan called after us, “you’re not taking him to the kennels?”

Damnit, I was hoping he would be too drunk to notice. It was customary to leave dogs at the kennels, it was unusual enough that I had him with me inside the castle. Letting him sleep in the same room… Well… It was unseemly. I turned to face Teagan.

“It’s a long story,” I began as I looked down at Asher, “he helps me sleep, keeps nightmares away by waking me. I’m a very fussy sleeper, this way Alistair gets to sleep too,” I explained. Teagan threw his hands in the air.  
“As valid a reason as I’ve ever heard, I won’t stop you. But don’t be surprised if Isolde tries to bite your head off. She hates dogs,” he replied, I shrugged.  
“She can hate whatever she wants, Asher is coming with me,” I said and Teagan grinned at me, Asher wagged his tail and let out a gruff.  
“Good boy,” I said and we left the main hall.

* * *

I awoke to Asher licking my face in the middle of the night, from the tension in my muscles and the pounding in my head, I guessed he had saved me from another nightmare, or night terror… Alistair was still asleep. A good sign, Asher hadn’t needed to wake Alistair up. I sat up, petting Asher on his head.

“Good boy, Asher,” I whispered, and he looked at me with intelligent eyes. I got up, slipping on pants and a blouse.  
“You wanna go for a walk?” I whispered to Asher as I pulled my boots on. He wagged his tail and moved towards the door. I left my blades, but decided to strap a dagger to my leg. There shouldn’t be any need to use it. But I had gotten into the habit of wearing a concealed weapon early. I had even worn a dagger under the dress, where it wouldn’t be noticeable. My companions had teased me about this habit at first, but when the first night terror had occurred at camp and I explained why they occurred in the first place, they had stopped. I put on my cloak, hood up. Asher sat by the door waiting patiently. We left the room quietly and made our way to the courtyard.

I stood upon the castle wall, watching Redcliffe, as Asher went on about his business.

I turned when I heard footsteps, it was the Arl. Why he was up and about I could only guess. And my guess was that he had enough of sleeping for a while after waking up from a coma earlier today. So it wasn't strange I met him there. 

“Out for a nightly stroll?” he asked as he joined me leaning on the wall.  
“I have trouble sleeping,” I said quietly.  
“So do I,” he replied. We remained quiet for a moment, staring down at Redcliffe village. Torches lit the docks by the lake, but the town itself was dark.

“So many have died… barely a handful have survived…” the Arl said, mostly to himself.  
“People are more resilient then they often think themselves to be, they will rebuilt. It’s what we do,” I replied.  
“Teagan has told me more details of your part in this, Redcliffe’s survival,” the Arl continued, “under your guidance, with your strategies, strength, and wit, Redcliffe prevailed.”  
“It wasn’t just me, some people just needed a push to pick themselves up and do their parts. The tactics were fairly easy to devise, as we were dealing with a mostly unorganised horde of corpses,” I replied.  
“And yet, if you hadn’t been here…” the Arl said, trailing off.  
“Alistair would have been. It was his idea to come here in the first place. He would have gotten the job done without me, just differently I think…” I said reassuringly.

“You speak highly of him,” the Arl noted. I nodded.  
“He is a good man. I think he lets people underestimate him a bit too much, perhaps because he underestimates himself,” I said with a tired smile.  
“What exactly is the nature of your relationship with him?” the Arl asked and I turned to face him. I stared into his face, trying to read him in the dark. Though I didn't really need to, he was planning to make Alistair King. So of course he worried about my relationship with Alistair because of a simple question; who would be Alistair's Queen?

“I love him,” I said plainly. Daring the Arl to make a comment on it.  
“I could tell you it doesn’t mean anything, lie and say it’s nothing but a physical relationship. I can tell you what you want to hear, but that isn’t what you need to hear. Alistair is the reason I’m still in this fight, without him… I should be dead. A hundred times over. Either from physical, or psychological trauma. We don’t know each other very well, and I respect that you don’t blindly trust me. But this is something we really need to be clear on,” I held the Arl’s gaze as I spoke, helplessly vulnerable and determined.

“Does he, love you back?” the Arl asked hesitantly.  
“You really shouldn’t be asking _me_ ,” I replied, “but, yes, we’ve been together for some time now.” The Arl paused for a moment.  
“What do you intend to do about your relationship with him when he, _if_ he takes the throne?” he asked in a straightforward manner. I smiled.  
“Absolutely nothing,” I said calmly. The Arl frowned.   
“This complicates things…” he said pensively.  
“No, it doesn’t,” I said with a sigh, “you should really be talking to Alistair about this.”

“You realise what this looks like? Right?” the Arl spoke in a tone that was _just_ a little too condescending and patronising.   
“You think I haven’t thought about that? Do not presume to tell me who I can be with. I’ve stopped letting old men make decisions for me, shoving their opinions in my face and presuming they know better, a _long_ time ago. Don’t talk to me like I am beneath you, I never was.”

The words had left me like mouthfuls of blood. I had shown much more emotion than I had intended to and lost my composure. The Arl looked at me in shock.

“I apologize, my Lady. I do not mean to offend.”  
“Then what _do_ you mean?”  
“If Alistair takes the throne, does that mean you intend to marry him? Rule as his Queen?” the Arl asked slowly.  
“Yes,” I said, the Arl opened his mouth to respond but I stopped him by raising my hand.

“Let me stop you right there, you worry about the political implications. You worry if I can fulfill my role as his wife, and as a Grey Warden. You worry how other nobles will respond to this, and how this will affect your own position. These are all valid points. But let me be blunt here, I am not going anywhere. I don’t particularly relish the idea of becoming Queen, but if that’s what Alistair needs from me, that’s what I’ll do. This isn’t about politics, this is about supporting the man I love. Speak to him,” I said, and I turned to walk away.

“My Lady,” the Arl said quietly, I stopped but didn’t turn around.  
“For what it’s worth, I believe your love and concern for him are genuine. Alistair is lucky to have someone like you,” the Arl said, and left. 

_Fuck_ _you_ , I thought obstinately. For once, the part of me that was raised a highborn Lady agreed with the rest of me. I was angry, I could feel hot rage radiating from my skin. I slowly walked down the stairs back to the courtyard. Asher came padding towards me.  
“I just had a rather interesting conversation,” I whispered to my dog as I knelt down to pet him. Asher looked at me and cocked his head.  
“I don’t suppose you know of an effective way of forcing people to keep their opinions to themselves?” He gave a low growl.  
“A very effective method, but I can’t go killing people for disagreeing with me _every_ time.” He cocked his head again.  
“Ok, some of the time. But not this time, it’s different.” Another gruff.

“Darkspawn, bandits, hired assassins, cultists, and other unsavoury types are a completely different story. Let’s go, see how Alistair is doing,” Asher wagged his tail and followed me back into the keep.

Alistair was awake when we came back into the room, he lifted the blanket as I crawled back into bed with him. His warmth quickly enveloped me.

“Maker, you’re cold,” he whispered as I snuggled up to him.  
“Sorry, I meant to be back sooner. Did you wake up from a nightmare?” I asked softly. Alistair nodded.  
“But don’t worry, I’m fine. What kept you?” he replied.  
“The Arl,” I said softly.  
“In the middle of the night?” he asked.  
“Yeah, he said he had trouble sleeping,” I replied, “asked me about my relationship with you…”  
“I see… What happened?”  
“I may have lost my composure a bit… He asked me what I intended to do about our relationship when you take the throne. And when I said I wasn’t going to do anything, he asked me if I realized what that looks like…”  
“And?”  
“And… I got mad, told him I don’t let old men make my decisions for me. And I may have reminded him he was never above me… There may have also been some mention of this being about supporting you, not politics…” I said, slightly embarrassed.  
“You flayed him, didn’t you?” Alistair asked.  
“Maybe…” I said in a dodgy tone. Alistair sighed and chuckled.  
“It had to happen anyway, I’ll talk to him in the morning.” He kissed me and cupped one of my breasts with his hand.  
“Let’s just sleep now,” he whispered, pulling me close.

I slept fitfully that night, and I was glad when morning finally came. I asked for another bath to be drawn and spend the early morning soaking in hot water. Thinking about my conversation with the Arl last night. I watched the steam rise from the water and was reminded of the rage I had felt the night before. It took me in a choke-hold sometimes, but last night, I had embraced it. It had felt good. I did hope I hadn’t done too much damage to my new ties with the Arl… Though no matter how I looked at it, he had overstepped his authority. I understood why he had responded the way he did, looking through his eyes. I was a stranger to him, and after giving the go-ahead for the Landsmeet, he had learned of my relationship with Alistair. And my intentions to stay with him. So, the Arl confronted me. Though I’m not sure what he expected, I don’t think he expected me to scold him like I did. That had either earned me his respect, or his scorn. At least Alistair seemed to have a good relationship with the man, well… sort of. No doubt he would be involved with Alistair’s first years of rule. I’d have to find a way to work with the man.

Alistair stretched and opened his eyes, feeling the bed beside him.

“Good morning,” I said from the tub.  
“There you are,” he said sleepily, “thought you might be off harassing Arl Eamon again.”  
“Nope, I’ve been good and quiet. Join me?” I replied. Alistair sat up, ran his hands through his hair, and stretched again.  
“Of course.”

He got up to join me in the tub. I scooted forward a bit so he could sit behind me. I leaned back against his chest and he put his arms around me.

“I could get used to this,” he whispered into my ear.  
“Me too,” I replied and I closed my eyes.  
“I wish we could just stay in this room for a few more days. I so rarely get to enjoy you like this,” he whispered and let one of his hands slide down between my legs. His fingers moved slowly, circling my most sensitive spot. I tilted my head back to be able to kiss him. He softly met my lips with his, teasing me with his tongue and teeth. I moaned into his mouth as his fingers moved to the centre of the circle he had been drawing, pressing his rigid cock in the cleft of my ass. We just got going when there was a knock on the door.

“Goddamnit,” Alistair swore under his breath and moved to get out of the tub, wrapping a towel around himself. Which did nothing to hide his obvious erection. 

“What?” he said in an annoyed tone as he opened the door slightly to see who it was. I heard Zevran’s voice from the other side.  
“My apologies, I see I interrupted your… morning activities. However the Arl has been asking for you. I just came to give the heads up, and just in time from the looks of it.” Zevran attempted to peek his head around the door but Alistair pushed him back by putting his hand on Zevran’s forehead. I rolled my eyes. Alistair sighed.  
“Tell him I’ll be there in a moment.”  
“A moment? Or a _moment_?” Zevran asked, I could _hear_ the smirk.  
“Pick one,” Alistair said as he closed the door in Zevran’s face. He turned back towards me and gave me an apologetic look.

“You know he is going to pick a ‘ _moment’_ , right?” I said while leaning back in the tub and folding my arms behind my head. Alistair shrugged.  
“doesn’t really matter… I’m sorry, but I think I should take care of this right away,” he said with a pained and hungry look. I smiled.  
“I know, it’s ok.”  
“Anything you want me to tell him?” Alistair asked as he started to dry himself off.  
“Nope,” I said and I reached for a bar of soap.  
“Really?” Alistair asked.  
“Really,” I replied, “you got this,” I said confidently.  
“Anything I _shouldn’t_ tell him?” he inquired with raised eyebrows.  
“Alistair, I trust your judgement. Do this your own way, mine hasn’t proven particularly effective,” I said plainly.  
“Alright then,” Alistair said as he got dressed. He kissed me before he left. I washed myself thoroughly before getting out of the tub and getting dressed. I left the room armed and armored, and made my way to the main hall.

I found Wynne by the hearth, enjoying a rare cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” she said as I sat down in the chair opposite from her.  
“Good morning,” I replied.  
“Did you guys have fun last night?” I asked. Wynne smiled and chuckled.

“We certainly did, I trust you enjoyed your evening as well?” I raised an eyebrow.  
“Indeed I did. Why do you ask?”  
“I’ve been watching you and Alistair for some time, and he seems… happy when he is with you. Allows himself to relax more. I think it’s a good thing for both of you,” Wynne said with a grandmotherly smile.  
“You’ve changed your mind, then?” I asked.  
“I did,” Wynne said, “watching the two of you made me realise the importance of these things, especially in such uncertain times,” she put a hand on my arm, “treasure this, I wish you both the best.” I returned her smile.

“Thank you, Wynne, I needed to hear that,” I said as my conversation with the Arl flashed through my mind. Wynne must have seen it on my face.

“Is something the matter, Fela?” she asked gently.  
“Last night, I took Asher out for a walk and bumped in to the Arl. He asked me about my relationship with Alistair…” I began.  
“He disapproves, I take it?” Wynne asked, and I nodded.  
“There have been some… developments…”  
“You’re not pregnant are you?” Wynne asked with a frown.  
“No-” I said quickly, “not pregnant. But… uhm… Alistair has declared that he will not rule without me by his side. He asked me to marry him a while ago. And I said, yes…”

Wynne stared at me for a moment.

“You… congratulations, my dear! But… Alistair has declared that he will not _rule_ without you? You’ll have to explain that one.”  
“Right, I forgot. You weren’t at the meeting with the Arl yesterday. Well, shit…”  
“Language!”  
“Sorry, Alistair is… King Maric’s son. Born out of wedlock, his mother was a serving girl at the Redcliffe estate in Denerim… I probably shouldn’t have told you that…” Wynne raised a hand to her mouth.

“Now I see… his claim to the throne will be stronger than Queen Anora’s… You intend to overthrow Loghain,” she spoke slowly. I nodded.  
“The Arl has called for a Landsmeet.”  
Wynne chuckled, “my, my, you are certainly making your mark upon Ferelden,” she said.  
“Well, I’m going through a hell of a lot of trouble for it, might as well right some wrongs,” I replied.  
“And that’s why Leliana has been gathering information about Rendon Howe, you intend to take him down as well, I take it,” she said pensively, I nodded again.

“In fact, I intend to take down Loghain _through_ Rendon Howe,” I explained.  
“You’ve been busy…” Wynne mused, “the Arl supports you in this?” she asked.  
“Yes, there is no other way, either Loghain capitulates, or we are forced to unite behind him to prevent Ferelden from tearing itself apart before the Archdemon even arrives.”

Wynne pondered that for a moment.

“Loghain could use your relationship with Alistair against you, make you both look like usurpers…” she said quietly. I nodded once more.  
“I know… and the Arl knows it too. Alistair is speaking to him now…”  
Wynne gave me a sly smile.

“I think I may have an idea,” she said in a hushed tone, “we… _feed_ the rumours that are already spreading about you two. But we add some things, like stories how he heroically saved your life, the way you work together as a team. Make the people see you two as partners _before_ Loghain gets a chance to paint you as some sort of gold digger. If the people already see you as an inseparable couple, two people who complement and complete each other. By the time Loghain figures out what you intend to do, any claim he makes will look like common slander,” Wynne said with a twinkle in her eye.

“Oh, now that’s devious, Wynne,” I said with a wide grin.  
“People love a good story, we plant the seeds and watch it grow,” she replied.  
“Well then, I trust you will see the job done? Inform our companions of this plan of yours?” I asked, and she nodded.

Alistair entered the main hall and approached us with a suspicious look.

“What are you two plotting?” he asked suspiciously.  
“Alistair,” Wynne said, “I hear congratulations are in order.” Alistair looked at me inquisitively.  
“I may have told her about our engagement…” I said hesitantly.

“Oh, well thank you,” he said to Wynne.  
“And I may have told her about your parentage too…” I added.  
“Fela…” he said slowly. I gave him a guilty look.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“It’s alright, most of our companions had already figured it out anyway. Might as well tell them now that the Landsmeet has been called, better they hear this from us,” he replied, and ran a hand through his hair.

“So, what did the Arl have to say?” I asked and leaned back in my chair. He glanced at Wynne briefly.  
“You… told her about your talk with the Arl too then?” he asked. I nodded.

“Well… I explained to the Arl why I want you by my side, and after some discussion, he admitted it is not his choice to make. He still has his reservations, but respects my decision. He was rather impressed by you.” I blushed.  
“I may have given the Arl a piece of my mind,” I explained to Wynne.  
“As did I,” Alistair said as he sat down, “you are really starting to rub off on me. Turns out I did it your way after all,” Alistair said and I raised my eyebrows at him.

“You… did it my way?” I asked. Alistair nodded, “I reminded him of the hierarchy in Ferelden. And your heritage. And while I hold his advice in great respect, I will not let him decide who I marry. He conceded. He’d rather see you as my Queen than Loghain as regent,” he said with a smile. I smiled back at him.  
“I wish I could have witnessed that conversation.”

Our other companions soon joined us and we shared a quiet and contented breakfast. Morrigan showed up with Teagan, and I couldn’t help but grin at her. She scowled back at me.

“Are you sure you won’t stay for a bit longer? Orzammar will still be there after you’ve had a decent rest,” Teagan said. I smiled at him.  
“You’re too kind Teagan, but we’re on a tight schedule here. While it was worth every second, we’ve spend a lot of time on the Urn of Sacred Ashes, we still have two treaties to secure. It’ll give us an edge in our campaign against Loghain,” I replied.

“You’re right of course,” Teagan said with a sigh, “civil war and a Blight wait for no one…”  
“We wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for Loghain’s betrayal…” Alistair said in a bitter tone, “there would still be a Blight, but Cailan would be alive and there would be more than two Grey Wardens to get the job done.”  
“Yeah… carrying the fate of a nation on your shoulders doesn’t feel very good, does it...” I replied absently.

“Do not dwell on what could have been, Warden. It won’t help you with what _is,_ ” Sten spoke solemnly. I nodded to him in respect.  
“You’re right, no way to go but forward.”  
“I must say, you are not at all like what I imagined Qunari to be like,” Teagan said, eyeing Sten curiously.  
“Don’t go there,” Alistair warned, but Teagan had poked the bear.

“What do you know of the Qunari?” Sten asked harshly.  
“Now that you mention it, not much,” Teagan replied.

_Please drop it, please drop it, please drop it._

“What would you say if I asked you to tell me about your people?” Teagan asked Sten hesitantly.

_Dammit!_

“No.” Sten said plainly.

_Alright, maybe Sten’s reply will discourage him?_

“Why not?”

 _Dammit_ _Teagan!_

“People aren’t simple. They cannot be defined for easy reference in the manner of; ‘the elves are a lithe pointy eared people who excel at poverty’,” Sten said in his harsh monotone voice.  
“Hey!” Zevran snapped from the other side of the table, he appeared to be nursing a massive hang-over.  
“Sten was just making a point, saying how you _cannot_ summarize people in that manner,” Leliana explained quickly.  
“Oh, well in _that_ case, well spoken, my large scary-looking friend.” Zevran replied. I suppressed a chuckle. Sten nodded towards Zevran.

“He gets it,” he said to Teagan, who let the matter drop. 

After breakfast, and that awkward conversation between Sten and Teagan, we gathered our things, and said our goodbyes.

We never saw Connor and Isolde, but the Arl did come see us off. He showed no sign of our nightly chat. Which was a little odd, but I wasn’t complaining. He seemed comfortable… Now I was _really_ wondering what Alistair had said to him. I believed him of course, but the Arl’s change in attitude was remarkable. We gripped each other’s lower arm and he put a hand on my shoulder.

“We will see this through, Warden, you have my support. Farewell,” he said earnestly.  
“Thank you, my Lord, we will meet again soon,” I replied. I shared a look with Alistair and looked back at the Arl, who nodded at me. Just like that.


	26. The Road to Honleath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela and Alistair have a chat about leadership once they are back on the road. They come across Felix, the merchant that offers a golem control rod.

When we left Redcliffe and were on the road again for a while, I decided to share my thoughts with Alistair.

“So, the Arl sure changed his tune…” I said pensively.  
“Actually, I think you may have misunderstood his reservations. Or rather, the degree of his reservations,” Alistair replied.  
“How so?” I asked.  
“I think his problem was that it kind of came out of the blue. He had expected that I wouldn’t be thinking about marriage until this was all well and over. It’s not that he already had a match in mind or that he considered you to be a poor match. He still objected of course, he barely even knows you,” Alistair explained.

“Which is when you reminded him of his place in the hierarchy…” I said.  
“Exactly. He just… assumed I would be following his lead on that particular matter. When it became clear I won’t be doing that, he got frustrated,” Alistair added.  
“Well, he did raise you the first ten years of your life… Perhaps he is having trouble letting go of his role as your… guardian,” I offered, Alistair shook his head.  
“Maybe… Anyway, when I got him to calm down and look at this from a different angle, he reconsidered his stance.”  
“You mean you convinced him I am a very strategic match if you restore my lands and titles,” I said with a sly smile.  
“Yes, it seemed like the right way to make him see reason. He may not believe a King should marry for love, but that’s not all you have to offer. I know next to nothing about being King, you’re experienced at court and were raised to lead. He also admitted he was impressed by the plan you have already set into motion to discredit Loghain through Howe. When I added your recent accomplishments concerning the Circle Tower, Redcliffe, and the Urn, he caved.” I smiled at Alistair.  
“You’re better at this then you give yourself credit for.” He smiled back at me.  
“I’ve been watching you closely,” he leaned in to whisper in my ear, “ _very_ closely,” he said while resting his hand low on my hip, he gently squeezed it before letting go.

“So what were you talking about with Wynne when I found you? Aside from my secrets,” Alistair asked curiously.  
“She told me she has been watching us and that she changed her mind about our relationship. She’s happy for us,” I said.  
“So when did you get to the point where you told her about my… heritage?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“I thanked her for telling me she changed her mind, and that I needed to hear it. She noticed something was wrong and I told her about my conversation with Arl Eamon. And that’s when I blurted out you had declared you would not rule without me. That was my bad, slip of the tongue, those don’t happen often. Only with people I trust, actually, when my guard is down…” I explained.

“It’s alright, but that still doesn’t explain why you looked like you just came up with a nefarious plan,” Alistair replied.  
“Wynne pointed out that Loghain could use our engagement against us. And suggested a method to build a reputation as partners. Spread some rumours in the right places, get people to see us as partners before Loghain figures out what we’re up to,” I explained.  
“Clever,” Alistair said, “this is indeed one of Eamon’s concerns. But you intend to plant your own seeds before Loghain can plant his…” he mused.  
“I put Wynne on the job immediately, the sooner we start this, the better,” I said, and remained quiet for a moment to pick my next words.

“I’m going to need you to take charge from time to time,” I said carefully.  
“I thought I was already doing that?” Alistair grinned cheekily.  
“You are, and I love it. But that’s not what I mean,” I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I want you to take the lead, from now until we secure the treaty with Orzammar. You need to be seen as a leader. I know you prefer to let me do it but you’re going to want to put in some strong appearances. Don’t let people think you just do as I say, _show_ them you can lead,” I said and carefully watched Alistair for his response.

From the look on his face, I’d say he was fighting an inner battle between what he preferred to do and what he knew he _needed_ to do.

“Alright, I think I can do that… negotiate, make new contacts, take decisions…” he said, mostly to himself.  
“Ok, I can tell this unsettles you,” I began but Alistair cut me off.  
“No, I’ll do it-”  
“Let me finish, just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean you have to do it alone. And this lot happens to be very fond of giving advice,” I pointed my thumb at our companions, “plus they have their various talents. Use those, play into your strengths and utilize the strengths of those that follow you. We’re with you, every step of the way,” I put my hand on his arm as I spoke the words.

They hit home. Alistair gave me a fond smile.  
“Does that mean I can tell you what to do?” I raised an eyebrow and smiled.  
“That depends, what did you have in mind?” Alistair’s smile turned into a mischievous grin.  
“I’ll have to think about it.”  
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”  
“You might be surprised.”

* * *

We made camp when the sun started to set, using the last daylight to set up our tents and prepare a meal. Most of this had already become routine, with everyone doing their parts. When I finished setting up my tent, I took off my armor wandered off, as usual, taking only my blades. Asher padded beside me, sniffing the ground, and occasionally stopping to have a more thorough sniff.

“Recognise any scents boy? We came down this road when we left Haven.” Asher wagged his tail and gave me a happy look.  
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Asher gave me a happy bark and went back to sniffing.

I sat down and leaned against a tree trunk, watching Asher investigate the area. I put my blades down beside me. As I was staring at my dog, I noticed I actually felt a little lighter now that we were back on track. It had bugged me that we went all the way east to Denerim, only to find out we should have gone west. It cost us the better part of a month. And then another fortnight to raze Haven. Though the effort had proven to be worth it. We had made a powerful ally. Perhaps I could focus more on Loghain and Howe, now that I had put Alistair in charge. Leliana and Wynne had been gathering information on them for some time. It was hard to maintain any correspondences while traveling as much as we did, and the roads weren’t quite as busy during civil war. Or at least, not in the way your want them to be. I wondered if Loghain had more people actively looking for us, mercenaries and Crows had not been very effective. I smiled, hoping that by recruiting Zevran, I had pissed Loghain off. Especially now that the Crows had entered a contract with me. I hoped it cost him a hell of a lot of money.

“Fela?” I heard Alistair call, “over here!” I called back.  
“You never make yourself easy to find, you know that right?” he said as he emerged from the trees, he had taken his armor off too but still carried his blade and shield.  
“That is the point of it, my dear,” I replied.  
Alistair leaned down for a long passionate kiss.

“Hmm, what was that for?” I asked as the kiss broke and he sat down next to me.  
“We have some unfinished business, you and I,” he began as he ran his hand up my leg and rested it on my thigh. I smiled.  
“We do…”  
“I was hoping we could pick up where we left off this morning, but you had left the room. Imagine my disappointment,” he said softly, his breath was hot on my ear. It send a pleasant shiver down my spine. He started to kiss my neck, and wrapped his arms around me.

“So what’s your plan now?” I whispered, letting him kiss me again and pull me closer.  
“I think I’ll take you right here,” he said in a low voice.  
“They will come looking for us soon, when dinner is ready,” I warned.  
“You had better be very quiet then, lest they find us,” Alistair said as he pushed me down onto the ground and kissed me again, devouring me. His hand moved down to unfasten my trousers and slide his hand in. I moaned and smiled as his fingers found my most sensitive spot again.

“You’re the boss,” I whispered into his ear, surrendering to his will.

I kicked off my boots and let Alistair pull my pants off, leaving me exposed to the evening chill. Alistair quickly unfastened his own trousers, and pushed himself inside me. I wrapped my legs around him as he moved in a quicker rhythm than usual, indulging my impatience. He showed none of his usual self-restraint, he just took me, fucking me fast and hard. I groaned and bit his neck, it only enticed him more. His movements slowly becoming more forceful with each thrust, breathing faster. The thought of getting caught only added to my excitement, I dug my fingers into his back, clinging onto him. Gripping him tighter and tighter as my pleasure grew. When my grip got too tight, Alistair pulled himself free and pinned my wrists to the ground above my head.

Alistair knew exactly how I liked it, just a little forceful. He kissed me hard, and I tightened my legs around him. Pulling and pressing him in deeper. Pleasurable tension was building in my body like a wildfire, creeping through my body slowly but steadily. Alistair covered my mouth with his hand as I moaned in sweet release and bit down on his fingers. But he didn’t stop moving his hips, prolonging my pleasure as he reached his own climax. He bit down on my neck and groaned, slowing his pace to a halt and taking his hand off my mouth.

“Ha-ha, wow, _again!?_ ” Zevran’s voice came from the treeline.

“Fuck off, Zevran!” I yelled, causing Alistair to laugh.  
“Fine, but don’t blame me for catching a glimpse if you’re doing it right out in the open,” he replied before scampering off. Alistair nuzzled my neck as he caught his breath.  
“Got caught after all,” he whispered.  
“I blame you,” I replied with a smile and a chuckle.  
“Right, because you didn’t enjoy that _at_ _all_ ,” he said and kissed me again, I kissed him back eagerly.

“Maker’s breath, I love you,” I whispered against his lips. He smiled.  
“I love you too,” he replied, and got up.

“Fela? Stay awake.”  
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied with a yawn as I found my pants and pulled them back on.

“I don’t _always_ fall asleep…” I mumbled while reaching for my boots.  
“Name _one_ time,” Alistair challenged.  
“Do I get to count the times you kept me awake?”  
“No.”  
“Damnit.” I pulled my boots back on. Alistair offered me his hand to pull me back up.

“Oh, I think I got one!” I said with a grin, “that morning we spent at the Spoiled Princess, when Wynne came knocking and you told me about your heritage.”  
“Nope, one of the times I kept you awake. You would have fallen asleep.”  
“You don’t know that.”  
“Yes, I do.”  
“Fine, you win,” I admitted while pulling a twig from my hair.

When we came back to camp, we were met with several grinning faces. I rolled my eyes.

“Do any of you have anything to say?” I asked menacingly. I was met with silence, “no? good,” I said and sat down.

We discussed what we knew of Orzammar while we ate. None of us had ever been there, but we were aware that dwarves were a peculiar race. For starters, dwarves didn’t go to the Fade while they slept and had no aptitude for magic. Though they were remarkably resistant to raw lyrium, which they mined and exported. They worshipped ancestors, rather than gods. And they had a rigid caste system. Alistair explained that the dwarves, unlike us on the surface, battled the darkspawn constantly. The creatures naturally stayed underground, they came to the surface during a Blight. He also explained that among Grey Wardens, there was something called the Calling. It’s how a Grey Warden knew his time had come, the nightmares would return. Rather than waiting to die, most of them went to the Deep Roads, darkspawn territory, to fight one last glorious battle. Cutting down as many darkspawn as they could before falling. It had cultivated respect for the Grey Wardens among the dwarves.

Other than that, we knew they were short, tended to be stubborn as a mule, and loved ale. Sten frowned at that last bit but didn’t object.

Suddenly, Asher started to bark like mad, jumping up and facing the road. I immediately jumped up with him, drawing my rapiers and facing in the same direction. It wasn’t darkspawn, Alistair and I would have sensed those. Plus, most bandits or wildlife that tried to sneak up on us generally didn’t come from the road.

“You hear someone coming boy?” I asked Asher, while keeping an eye on the direction he was barking in. He simmered down when a man with raised hands came out of the treeline.

“Sorry friends, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man said.  
“Who are you?” I asked sharply.  
“Felix, I’m just a merchant. My assistant and I have been looking for our donkey, we can’t move our supply cart without that damn donkey. Anyway, I saw your fire burning, and I thought I should go and ask if maybe you had seen a stray donkey,” Felix explained.

I lowered my blades and motioned for Asher to stand down.

“I don’t think you’ll be finding your donkey today friend, it’s getting dark,” Alistair said in a welcoming manner, “you and your assistant are welcome to join our camp tonight, the roads aren’t safe these days,” he offered.  
“I thank you, stranger, but I cannot abandon my wagon. My assistant is currently watching it,” Felix replied with a slight bow. I sat back down, calling Asher over to give him a vigorous belly rub. The merchant visibly relaxed when Asher turned his attention away from him.

“You people sure look like an adventurous lot… If it’s not too much to ask, perhaps we could trade? I might have some items that would interest you. And to be honest, I would be happy to be rid of some items that bandits might mistake for treasure,” Felix said while wringing his hands.  
“What sort of items are you talking about?” Alistair asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“I have a control rod. For a golem,” the merchant said with a slight smile as he noticed our surprise.  
“An interesting offer, but I must ask, why is it that you don’t use the golem yourself? It would keep you safe from bandits and it could pull the wagon for you. Why sell it to us?” Alistair asked,

I smiled. He made a good point, one I would have made if I hadn’t given him command.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to _sell_ it to you. Honestly I would just be happy to be rid of it,” Felix replied.  
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Alistair said, “what’s the catch?” Felix rubbed the back of his head nervously.  
“Yes, I suppose there is a catch… You see, I don’t have the golem itself,” he said with slight hesitation.

I watched Alistair and the merchant with great interest, the man was behaving a little strangely but he seemed to be genuine.

“Where is it?” Alistair asked patiently.  
“It’s in the village of Honleath, barely a day south from here. I haven’t gotten a chance to get down there myself, and right now it doesn’t look like I will be going anywhere without that donkey,” Felix explained. “Why is it in Honnleath?” Alistair continued, “Ah, yes, well… The golem is currently inactive. And as it happens, Honleath has been overrun by darkspawn. Even if I made it there I wouldn’t be able to reach it. But you people might, you seem able enough…”

Alistair and I shared a look, a golem would certainly be an awesome addition to our party. It wouldn’t get tired, need no food or drink, and from what I’d heard, golems were amazingly strong. But it would also mean yet another detour. Though this time, it wouldn’t take the better part of a month. I looked at Sten, I knew he was itching to find his sword.

“Alright,” Alistair finally said, “I’ll take the control rod off your hands.” Felix relaxed visibly.  
“Wonderful, I shall bring it over right away,” he said and hurried off to get the control rod. Alistair watched the merchant go.

“We’ll be making a slight detour,” he announced, looking at our companions.  
“A golem,” Zevran mused, “imagine what we could do with one of those…”  
“I don’t think I want to know what you are imagining, Zev,” I replied flippantly.  
“You might find my imagination to be a wondrous place, my dear Fela,” he said with a wink. I shook my head and went back to petting Asher.

“Didn’t the merchant say that Honleath is overrun by darkspawn?” Wynne asked with a frown.  
“He did,” Alistair replied, “but acquiring a golem is certainly worth the trouble.”  
“So you trust his words? You believe the golem will truly be there?” She asked, and Alistair nodded.  
“I do.”

We discussed going to Honleath for a bit longer until Felix returned. He handed Alistair the control rod and gave him the command phrase. He also informed us that the golem would be in the town square and that warned us that it had killed its former master, a mage from Honleath called Wilhelm. That raised a few eyebrows but between the six of us, we should be able to take on a golem, should we need to. The command phrase was ‘dullef gar’. That would let Alistair activate and control the golem. Felix soon left us, I think Asher still made him a bit nervous. He was a huge beast after all, even if he was still a dog, he looked pretty intimidating.

I smiled, so many were intimidated by Asher, but I knew him to be a sweet, goofy, cuddly pup. We shared a tight bond, three years of being so dependent on one another does that. Before Alistair, Asher always slept next to me, I often found myself curling up against Asher during the night. I watched as he started digging with a passion, like it was the most important thing in the world to dig up whatever he had smelled. Silly dog. A few moment later, he proudly presented me with and old rusty dagger.

“Good job! Found me something useful, eh?” I complimented Asher and scratched him behind his ears with both hands. I picked up the dagger and inspected it, it was in better condition than I originally thought.

“Your hound has good instincts,” Sten said, he had been watching me clean off the dagger with a rag and tossed me a whet stone.

“Use this, that weapon can still be of use to you.” I caught the whet stone and nodded appreciatively. Then spent the evening sharpening Asher’s gift. From what I could tell, it was made of fine steel. The grip fit nicely in my palm, though the leather that had covered it had mostly broken down. That was easily replaced however, we had plenty of unused weaponry lying around and it wasn’t long before I found a knife, which I stripped of its leather strap. What I assumed to be rust turned out to be dirt. Possibly old blood. In all, the blade was in fine condition and I strapped it to my forearm. It might come in handy someday.

While I was at it, I sharpened my rapiers as well. Until both of them were sharp as razors again. One huge perk of being born into a rich family, I had some high quality stuff. My rapiers were actually made by the weapon smith, Wade, in Denerim. The man was as much an artist as he was a smith, the steel had been folded over a thousand times. It was made to last, and slow to lose its edge. The metal was light, but strong, allowing me speed while still strong enough to block a larger and heavier weapon. They were beautiful swords, twin blades, made of steel so bright that it shone brilliantly even only by starlight. The guards were a work of art, intricately wrought wires of steel of to protect my hands. The grip was made specifically for my hands, which were small. Wade had taken several moulds so he could make the grip fit my palms and fingers perfectly. The blades felt like extensions of my own body, so carefully and perfectly matched to my style and technique. Wade had crafted a true work of art, as far as I was concerned. The blades were immensely precious to me. A gift from my parents, for my twentieth birthday. I hoped that they would be proud at how many darkspawn had found their death at the end of my blades, and I hoped they would be even prouder after they had tasted Rendon Howe’s blood.

In truth they didn’t feel strongly either way, they were dead, after all.

The night went by quickly. I slept better than I had in weeks and spent my watch snuggled up closely to Alistair. Asher on my other side. Both of them keeping me pleasantly warm under a blanket. Asher was under the blanket too, no reason only the humans should get to use blankets. And elves and Qunari and whatever other race but darkspawn you can think up. You get the point. Asher shared our blanket, he slept, drooling and tongue hanging out.

I listened to Alistair’s heartbeat, calm and steady. It sounded strong, and powerful. Which I thought was quite fitting. He was idly chatting away about Templar training and his studies. Aside from medicine, he had enjoyed studying biographies of military tacticians, Kings, politicians, and scholars. He had an impressive amount of theoretical knowledge, which he often applied practically. Though he mostly kept his thoughts to himself on such matters. Except for that time I asked for liquor before Wynne cut that arrow out of my leg. He had been sharing his medical knowledge with me giving me the basics about properly treating different wounds. Though I didn’t suspect I would need to put that knowledge into practice any time soon, we had Wynne and Morrigan. Still, it felt reassuring to know how to patch myself up, should the need ever arise.

The next day, we made for Honleath. True to the merchant’s word, it was barely a day’s travel south. We were discussing whether we should make camp and go into Honleath the next day, or go in this evening when Sten decided to challenge Alistair.

“Draw your weapon,” he said flatly. Alistair turned his head to look at Sten.  
“Are you talking to me?” he asked with a frown.  
“Draw your weapon,” Sten repeated.  
“Why? We’re not under attack,” Alistair replied with a raised eyebrow.  
“I want to see what you can do,” Sten clarified.  
“Haven’t you been paying attention during all those battles? You know what I can do already,” Alistair replied dismissively.

“You are a Grey Warden, how will you face the Archdemon if you cannot face me?” Sten demanded.  
“It’s a mystery, I’ll admit,” Alistair answered flippantly.  
“I should let your weakness damn us all? Draw your sword, I’ll try not to injure you, permanently,” Sten insisted.  
“No, Sten. I don’t have to prove anything to you. Now can we get back to deciding whether or not we go into Honleath tonight?” Alistair said firmly, facing off with the large Qunari.

Sten nodded appreciatively.

“So you do have a spine, pity you don’t use it,” he replied. I observed the conversation with great interest, Alistair was obviously not intimidated by Sten, and Sten seemed to be responding to that. I had suppressed the urge to put Sten back in his place, but that would only harm Alistair’s new position as leader of our party so I held my tongue. Alistair was doing fine on his own, no need for him to do things my way.

“I say we go in now, the darkspawn sense us as well as we sense them. The odds of being attacked at night are just too great,” I offered to draw the attention back to the matter at hand. Alistair nodded.  
“I agree, we shouldn’t waste more daylight than we already have. One way or another, there is going to be a battle. I’d rather be in control of when it is instigated,” he said and looked around the party.

There were no objections.


	27. Shale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran and Fela scope out Honleath before making a plan of attack. After butchering a LOT of darkspawn, they find Matthias and decide to help him. Which leads to some new insights about the mage that once owned the golem. And then they find 'Kitty.'

Zevran and I crept around Honnleath.

We were scouting, counting heads, and looking for places we could retreat to if needed. There were no signs of people, or any kind of resistance. It appeared as if the darkspawn had successfully murdered everyone in the village. Corpses hung from buildings and trees. No wonder that merchant didn’t want to come here.

“Look there,” Zevran whispered and pointed at a large statue in the middle of the town square, “that is no ordinary statue.”

I followed Zevran’s gaze, there was indeed a large statue in the square, bigger than even Sten. I could see clear white crystals embedded in its shoulders and wrists. It stood like it froze in the middle of an epic battle cry, arms wide and extended, knees slightly bend and feet slightly apart, chest out, facing towards the sky.

“We have found our golem it would seem,” I whispered back. Unfortunately, it was surrounded by a large group of darkspawn. I counted three emissaries, about a dozen archers, and a score of genlock and hurlock warriors. There were several alpha’s among them too.

“Looks deserted. Those villagers are long gone…” Zevran whispered. Indeed, the buildings all looked dark and abandoned.   
“Perhaps we can use this to our advantage, lure a bunch of them into a house, lock them in, and set the house on fire. Which will likely attract more darkspawn, but perhaps we can avoid attention and sneak up from behind,” Zevran opted. I shook my head.

“We would need too much time to barricade exits, and we would need oil to set a building ablaze quickly enough. Plus, the fire could spread, we don’t know if there are still people hiding in the village. I don’t want to take that risk,” I replied, Zevran shrugged.   
“Just look at this place, does it feel like there is any living soul around?”   
“Isn’t that exactly how you would want it to look when you are hiding from darkspawn?” I replied and scanned the village.

“We don’t want to take on that entire group in the square at once. We need some way to separate them. Or at least to cause enough disorientation to cause chaos and general mayhem, disorganising them.”   
“Doesn’t Morrigan have a mind blast spell?” Zevran suggested.

It was good thinking, but we would need to get Morrigan close and I wasn’t sure about her spell range. She still wore her own ‘clothes’, or rather, attire, she had assembled in the Wilds. It offered little protection.

“Here’s an idea, what if we send that hay wagon down the slope, and have Morrigan hit it with a fire ball after it comes to a stop,” I pointed at the farmhouse.

Some of the equipment lay scattered, abandoned to flee from darkspawn I suspected, a large wagon full of hay stood in the middle of the road. Hay would burn quickly enough that I wouldn’t have to worry about setting the entire village on fire, and if Morrigan hit it with a fireball, it would send a cloud of burning hay through the square. All we needed to do was let it roll down and come to a stop. That would disorientate them enough for us to move in quickly and take out the emissaries. With their leadership gone, we could bunker down in one of the houses until the archers had been dealt with. Then we could take on the larger part of the group, which would likely be scattered.

We snuck back to the rest of our party and gave them our report. Morrigan grinned excitedly at my plan to have her blast a wagon of hay. And Alistair suggested the confusion could be used to attempt to activate the golem and then have it fight with us. Wynne could provide support, boosting our stamina and increasing our chances at landing lethal blows. Morrigan could use area of effect spells whenever our party members were clear. Meanwhile Sten, Alistair, Asher, Zevran, and I would charge the horde, escorting Alistair to the golem, and then get to cover when the arrows started flying. Wynne, Leliana, and Morrigan would take down the archers as soon as possible. Then we could start taking down the remaining darkspawn.

We quietly took out a few darkspawn that were rummaging about the farmhouse. Morrigan, and Leliana would push down the wagon of hay after the rest of us had taken up their positions. The darkspawn would probably point their attention in the farmhouse’s direction, allowing us to flank them. Morrigan, Wynne, and Leliana were confident enough in their ability to hold back a large group of charging darkspawn with spells and arrows. And they could reposition if they needed to. It was a daring plan, many things could still go wrong. But after so many fights with darkspawn, we were actually excited at the challenge.

We were ready.

The wagon slowly rolled down the slope that led to the town square, gaining speed as it rolled. Hay was falling everywhere as it hobbled down the dirt road, but it didn’t matter. The darkspawn turned their attention to the wagon, and slowly approached to investigate. Morrigan let them draw in close, then hurled a massive fireball at the wagon. It went up in flames, quick burning hay adding to the dramatic effect. The darkspawn that had come to investigate were thrown back by the force of the explosion Morrigan added to the spell, a cloud of burning hay and dust swept through the square, causing the darkspawn to shriek and howl in terror.

As predicted, they scattered but one of the more able alpha’s had gathered a group of darkspawn around him to attack Morrigan. Wynne and Leliana were out of sight. Morrigan cast an ice storm spell as the alpha charged, cutting them off and trapping them while we charged to flank them.

I ran, jumping over a crate and slamming feet first into the alpha. It howled and grabbed at my legs as it went down. I went down with it, quickly rolling to my feet and attacked. The alpha barely managed to roll out the way and kicked at me. I rolled sideways as it brought down its sword, I felt the gust of air as it passed over my head.

_Close call._

I blocked the next attack, knocked the alpha’s blade aside and swiped at its sword arm. The creature howled as my blades severed the muscles on the inside of its upper arm. I spun and brought up my rapiers in a sweeping motion, beheading the alpha. I moved just in time to evade a genlock thrown in my direction, it hit another and they tumbled to the ground. Asher pounced and locked his jaws around the neck of one of the darkspawn. It struggled and gurgled under the pressure of the massive Mabari on its chest, until I heard a sickening, snapping sound and it stopped moving.

I delivered a spinning kick to one of the darkspawn attacking Alistair. He was holding them off well enough but it made attacking difficult. I blocked a darkspawn sword with my left blade and slashed another foe across its shoulder blades. I kicked at it and turned to face the attacking darkspawn, knocking another blow aside and gutting it in one smooth move. Alistair roared as he attacked one of the remaining hurlocks and delivered a powerful blow with his shield, sending it stumbling backwards into one of its companions.

“Go!” Alistair called, and he ran for the golem, cutting down darkspawn as he ran. We followed.

I jumped over the fence surrounding the golem, using my momentum to kick another hurlock to the ground. I immediately lurched for another, slashing it across the stomach. The sickening sound of entrails dropping to the ground made me grin in morbid satisfaction. I spun and cut down another that came at me from the side. Meanwhile Alistair ran his sword through the last remaining darkspawn standing in between him and the golem. He pulled the control rod from his belt.

“Dullef gar!” he bellowed. The statue remained immobile. I had no time to watch what Alistair did next, I ran for one of the emissaries. The creature was attempting to cast a spell when I ran it through with both blades. I pulled them free, spraying blood across the ground. A backwards kick kept another hurlock from charging me and I moved to find the next emissary. I was pleased to see Zevran cut one down as I ran past, just one more to go. An arrow grazed my upper arm, I barely felt it. I was on an adrenaline fuelled frenzy, killing as many darkspawn as I could while searching for that last _Goddamn_ _emissary_. A second arrow flew past when I saw it, casting a mass paralysis spell.

It hit Alistair, Sten, and Asher, still surrounding the golem.

“Zevran!” I called as I beheaded the emissary mid-dash. The elf dropped one of his swords and threw a dagger at the darkspawn moving in on Alistair so fast I barely saw him do it. It dropped to the ground immediately. He pulled another dagger to replace his sword and charged to defend our frozen companions.

“Morrigan! Freeze them!” I yelled as I sprinted for my immobilised companions. Morrigan hit three of the charging darkspawn, but two of them kept running towards their goal. Wynne cast a life-ward spell on Alistair and followed it up with a heroic offense spell. I met the charging darkspawn with both of my rapiers extended, leaving me wide open but gutting them both. I went down on my knees and dropped to the ground to evade their attacks. It was an awkward position, but my victims were already dying on the ground. I got up to shatter one of the frozen darkspawn. Zevran had taken the other two and was now defending Asher.

The golem was still immobile, the rod hadn’t worked.

Sten broke his paralysis with a roar and joined the battle again. Furiously hacking and slashing at the darkspawn that were coming at Asher. I dashed forward, running through another darkspawn that had attempted to stab Alistair. As I pulled my swords free I swiped at another, then blocked a third. I screamed as the genlock I had just cut stabbed me in my leg as it lay dying on the ground. Pain like white hot fire surged through my leg as I went down on one knee, growling. The other genlock brought down its sword, I barely managed to catch it between my own. I rolled to the side and kicked at its legs, then stabbed it in the chest. The sound of barking told me that Asher had broken his paralysis too.

I was struggling to get up when another advanced, meanwhile, arrows zipped through the air around us. Finally, Alistair broke his paralysis.

Crying out as he killed the darkspawn moving in on me. He pulled me up and pulled one of my arms around his neck as he called to get to cover. Leliana, Wynne, and Morrigan were furiously attacking the archers, dropping them one by one before turning their attention back to defending and supporting us.

Alistair half carried, half dragged me to cover. I was losing a lot of blood, frighteningly fast. Alistair put me down and ripped a piece of cloth off a dying darkspawn, then pressed it on the wound, hard. I grunted at the pain, then moved my hands to take over keeping pressure on the wound. I felt the soft touch of a healing spell, Wynne was aiding me, helping me to keep up the strength to keep pressure on the wound. Alistair was already back in the fight, keeping the darkspawn away from me. I didn’t watch the rest of the fight, I needed all of my willpower to stay conscious and keep pressing the wound. I had to stop the bleeding, had to stay awake.

All in all, the fight went mostly as we had expected. Though that mass paralysis spell was something we hadn’t counted on. Alistair was the only one of us that knew how to remove harmful, magical effects. It was a basic part of Templar training, perhaps he could teach it to others as well. Him getting paralysed during the fight was what had made the situation so dire, if it had been me instead of him, he could have dispelled it. Defending another person in battle is a lot more difficult than just staying alive and killing a lot. Especially if that person is unable to move and enemies are coming from all sides. Personally, I think I did rather well, only getting stabbed in the leg. And Alistair was fine, so were my other companions.

Wynne tore open my trousers to get a better look at the wound. She sucked in a breath through her teeth when she saw the damage. The blade had been poisoned.

“Find that sword,” she commanded, “I need to know what poison this is.” Sten and Morrigan hurried off to find the dead genlock. Meanwhile Zevran peeked over Wynne’s shoulder.   
“Perhaps I can be of assistance, poisons are a specialty of mine.” Wynne scooted over to let him take a look. He prodded at my leg.   
“Are you feeling nauseated? Or dizzy?” he asked me.   
I nodded, “though that might be from the blood loss,” I said with a sigh. I was starting to feel sleepy. Alistair snapped his fingers in front of my face.

“Fela, focus, don’t pass out. Look at me,” he said, I tried to focus on him, but my vision was starting to blur.   
“This is bad…” I muttered, barely aware of Wynne and Zevran quickly working on an antidote.   
“Tell me what you think of Rendon Howe,” he encouraged, giving me a strong emotion to focus on.   
“I fucking _hate_ Rendon Howe. That piece of shit needs to die,” I said weakly. Wynne didn’t scold me for my language.

“Good,” Alistair said, “now, what else needs to die?”   
“Archdemon, grotesque, ugly, scaly monstrosity. Gotta kill the bitch. Pisses me off…” I said hazily, barely managing to stay awake.

“What else pisses you off?” Alistair asked. I didn’t respond.   
“Fela, stay with me.” He urged as he put both hands on my cheeks to help me look at him.

Suddenly, Zevran poked his finger into the wound. I wailed and punched him in the face, the pain had cleared my head a little.

“Ow! _fuck_. Why did you do that!?” I snapped at Zevran, groaning and looking down at my leg.   
“Shouldn’t have looked at that,” I mumbled as I leaned back and faced upward, “what the _fuck_ is that?”   
“Quiet death poison,” Zevran replied while rubbing his jaw.   
“Ah… sounds lovely…” I mused.

“Tell me you know how to counter this,” Alistair asked, concern lined his voice.   
“I do,” Zevran replied as he started to rummage through his pack and pulled out his poison kit. He took a vial from Wynne and mixed in some other substance.

“This is going to hurt,” Zevran warned.   
“Do I need to be restrained?” I mumbled, my mind was becoming clouded again.   
“No, but you have to promise not to punch me,” he replied.

“ _Fuck_ _you_ , Zevran!” I hissed, “fine, I promise. Fuck you though. And thanks, whatever. Just do it already, this shit is messing with my mind,” I was rambling and reached a hand up to my head.

Zevran carefully spread the wound, and poured in the antidote. I groaned and cursed, then screamed again as I felt the substance burn deep into my flesh. I leaned back as I felt the burning sensation spreading through my veins. I closed my eyes and groaned, breathing in and out deeply through my nose.

It slowly faded, leaving me with a pleasantly warm sensation.

“Ok…” I sighed, “I think I’m ok now. _Fuck,_ that hurt.” Zevran nodded and Alistair sighed in relief.   
“I don’t think I have ever heard you swear this much in this short amount of time,” he said with a chuckle, brushing a stray strand of hair back from my sweaty forehead. Wynne handed me a canteen.

“I’ll just pretend I was temporarily deaf,” she said curtly as she started to clean the wound so she could stitch the flesh back together. I asked for a piece of dried meat, which I ate while Wynne took care of my leg. I remembered it was important to eat and drink a little extra after losing a lot of blood, I got that from Alistair.

“So that golem…” I started.   
“The command phrase didn’t work,” Alistair said with a dark look.   
“That’s disappointing,” I replied before taking another sip of water.

“What’s our next move?” I asked, looking at Alistair.   
“We’ll search the village, see if there are any survivors. Maybe Wilhelm had family living here, they might know the correct command phrase… It’s a long shot but we already came this far, might as well be thorough,” he replied, I nodded.   
“Sounds good,” I said and leaned back against the outer wall of one of the abandoned houses.

“Thank you,” Alistair whispered, “you took that hit because you were protecting me…”   
“Don’t you dare feel guilty Alistair, you would have done the same for me.” I replied sternly, and then smiled.

“You can’t take responsibility for the hits that I take, I make my own choices, execute my own actions. You’re allowed to worry, and maybe pamper me a bit, but don’t trick yourself into thinking this was somehow your fault. I insist on getting into life-threatening danger on a regular basis, after all. And I’d take that same hit again and again if it meant keeping you from harm, and there is nothing you can do to stop me,” I leaned forward to kiss him, “help me up?” I asked as the kiss broke.

“Only if you accept my thanks,” he said and nipped at my bottom lip.   
“Of course,” I said and kissed him again.

My head spun as I got to my feet. Alistair had to steady me a bit to keep me upright. I put some weight on my injured leg tentatively while trying to regain my balance. Wynne had dosed me with a nice painkiller after she stitched and bandaged my leg. Another set of trousers were torn, I really needed to be more careful with my clothes, or at least learn how to sow.

I was never the type of noble Lady to spent much time on arts and crafts. My time was mostly occupied with training, sparring with my brother, and coming up with exciting new ways to kill a man. The rest of the time, I spent on making noble suitors uncomfortable and annoying my mother while entertaining my father and Fergus. Good times. I took a few deep breaths while my head cleared.

“I’ve never been poisoned before… strange experience, I don’t recommend it,” I mumbled, keeping a hand on Alistair’s shoulder to steady myself. He chuckled.   
“I think that should be common sense,” he replied.   
“Speaking of common sense, it seemed like that stuff messed with my inhibitions,” I said and took a few exploratory steps.

Alistair nodded, “a side-effect, it’s main purpose was slowing your heart-rate until death followed,” he explained.   
“Is that why you asked me about Loghain and Howe? And the Archdemon? To cause a physical reaction to the anger, and increase my heart-rate?”

That was remarkably clever, while being uninhibited, the anger had flowed freely and intensely. He had kept me from passing out that way. Zevran had eventually taken a less subtle approach, and stuck his finger into my leg. He was met with a less subtle reply and a fist, also an effect of strongly reduced inhibitions. Alistair nodded again.

“But how did you know? Zevran only said which poison it was after I hit him,” I asked. “The discolouration of the skin around the wound is a tell-tale sign of quiet death poison, I was monitoring your pulse from the moment Wynne ripped your trousers open. When I felt it slow down, I was certain,” Alistair said matter-of-factly.   
“Damn…” I replied appreciatively, “you’re Goddamn brilliant, you know that?”   
“Shh, quiet woman, I have a reputation to maintain,” he answered playfully and kissed my cheek, “people might start having expectations.” I chuckled and looked around.

The others had been checking one of the buildings while I was taking a short rest, recovering from my brush with death. They found no survivors and moved on to the next. Alistair and I followed, the main floor was empty but there was a cellar. I stayed back with Asher, the blood loss meant that I was out of breath quickly and I wouldn’t be able to fight for extended periods of time. I might make a kill or two but I felt too weak to willingly participate in a fight. Not if I wasn’t needed.

My companions encountered more darkspawn in the cellar, and in the corner, behind a magical barrier, were survivors. Alistair and the rest dealt with the enemies quickly. There weren’t many of them and they were unorganised. I suspected they had been waiting for the barrier to fail so they could get at the remaining villagers. They certainly weren’t focused on the entrance, so we got the drop on them. When the last darkspawn had been cut down, Alistair approached the people behind the barrier.

“By the Maker, we’re saved!” a woman cried out when Alistair walked up to the barrier. Another man spoke up.  
“You… weren’t send by the Bann, were you? To save us?” he asked hopefully.   
“No, I’m a Grey Warden. To be brutally honest, I don’t think anyone knew you were still alive,” Alistair explained.   
“A Grey Warden!? Here? Thank the Maker for our luck!” the man said in a relieved tone.   
“But, if you weren’t send by someone, why are you here? If you don’t mind my asking,” he said curiously, eyeing Alistair and our other companions. He let his eye linger on me. I sighed, leaning back against a wall, determined not to let my weakened state show.

“I am looking for whoever owned that statue outside,” Alistair said, drawing the man’s attention back to him.   
“The statue outside? Why would you… oh, of course. I think I see. You bought the control rod didn’t you? You came here looking for Shale,” the man replied with a sour look. Just like that, his relief and joy had been replaced by bitterness.

However, he raised a hand to the barrier to lower it and let the other villagers out so they could escape. He motioned for Alistair to follow him, which required him to step through the barrier. I detected a hint of hesitation, those Templar instincts died hard. He stepped through the barrier with determination however, following the man who continued to speak.

“That damnable golem has brought us nothing but trouble. My mother sold the rod years ago, after it killed my father, and good riddance,” he said in a harsh tone.   
“Are you saying the golem is defective?” Alistair asked.   
“How should I know?” the man replied, “it must be, my father was its master and it still killed him. Surely that’s not normal behaviour? My father’s name was Wilhelm, mage to the Arls of Redcliffe and a hero in the war against Orlais. I am his son, Matthias. And what did he get? One day my mother found him outside the tower, with so many broken bones she could hardly recognize him, and Shale standing over him just like it is now. My father deserved better than that! But if you really want to wake Shale up… well, it’s yours now.” He stared at Alistair with a hard look.

“The rod doesn’t work, nothing happens when I use the command phrase,” Alistair replied calmly. He had no quarrel with Matthias personally, his bitterness was understandable.   
“My mother may have given the wrong command phrase when she sold the rod… She said she never wanted to see Shale activated again,” Matthias replied. He looked thoughtful for a moment, “look, I’ll give you the command phrase. But, I need you to help me first,” Matthias finally said.

I suppressed a sigh when I heard the request, where ever we go, people want us to clean up their messes for them. I was starting to get a little annoyed by that, but Alistair was far more patient. He let Matthias explain what he needed.

“I know you already saved my life and I’m grateful, but my daughter is inside the laboratory! She was afraid and ran too far in before I could stop her,” Matthias said, pointing at a door behind him.   
“I don’t know how she made it past my father’s defences, one of the men tried to go after her. He was killed, but… you could find her, couldn’t you?” Matthias asked hopefully.

Should have seen that one coming… This time I did sigh, no way we were going to leave this guy without saving his daughter _and_ without Shale. I didn’t need to hear Alistair’s reply to know what we were going to do. And the truth is, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t ignore a father fearing for his daughter’s safety. Call me a softy, I don’t care.

“Very well, we will find your daughter,” Alistair said.   
“You will!? Thank the Maker!” Matthias exclaimed, as if he had been expecting a refusal.   
“My father’s laboratory is just past the next area, she _has_ to be there!” His tone was urgent, and his face desperate. Alistair nodded to Matthias and motioned for us to follow him.

* * *

“I’m not sure which annoys me more, the fact that people always want us to clean up their messes, or the fact the we seem unable to refuse a cry for help…” I said quietly to Alistair as we made our way to the laboratory. Zevran and Leliana were checking for traps, while Wynne and Morrigan looked for magical defences. Alistair chuckled.

“Annoyed by your own kind nature?” he asked playfully.   
“A little,” I replied with a smile.

We followed our companions through a winding hallway. This laboratory was fairly deep underground, the air was stale and it smelled of mildew and moisture. We froze as we heard a shriek in the distance, coming from the direction in which we were headed.

“That bodes well,” Zevran said sarcastically.   
“Quiet,” Alistair replied in a commanding whisper and motioned for all of us to be on our guard. We continued down the hallway until we entered a large chamber. Alistair held up a hand, signalling us to wait. I hung back, no need to get in the way now. Feeling drained as I did, now was not a good time to be at the front of the group.

Alistair looked around the chamber, it looked as though it had been made out of a natural cavern. Roots had found their way down and crawled along the walls and ceiling. Empty workbenches and shelves lined the walls, but there was an ornate desk in the middle of the room.

“We are not alone,” Leliana whispered. She inched her way along one of the walls to go further into the room, hoping to investigate what waited for us. As she crept past the first pillars in the room, arranged in a square to support the ceiling, we heard the first shrieking sounds.

Demons burst from the shadows, quickly moving in on Leliana. Zevran and Sten dashed forward to attack, drawing their attention and allowing Leliana to quickly move to a safer distance and start assaulting the demons with arrows. Sten howled as he raised his great-sword and brought it down on one of the demons, it lashed out at him with a razor sharp claw. Forcing Sten to abort the attack and block the demon instead. Zevran was right behind him, spinning around the demon and attacking it with a combination of three slashes. The demon let out a bloodcurdling howl as it arched back in pain, allowing Sten to cut at its front with his great-sword. He slashed the demon diagonally across the... chest-area, in an upward motion before thrusting his blade through it.

Meanwhile, Alistair charged another demon, slamming his shield into it and putting all of his weight behind it. The blow knocked the demon back, it lashed out at Alistair with a shriek. Grazing his upper arm, protected by metal plating and chain-mail. Alistair was unphased by the attack, crying out as he swung his sword at the demon’s side and slicing it’s abdomen. Before the demon could attack, Alistair brought his sword up again, shearing through its arm. He kicked at it, sending it back into another demon that had been casting a fireball. Morrigan took them both with a vulnerability hex.

Alistair cut them both down easily after that.

She froze another, which was immediately smashed to pieces by Sten. Another demon missed Zevran by an inch with another fireball, the Antivan elf laughed as he pounced on the demon, quickly stabbing at a few vital parts and downing the demon in one attack. He was, in fact, very good at his job. Light on his feet, graceful and quick as a cat. Every advantage and weakness abused to kill with great efficiency.

Asher remained by my side as my companions took down the remaining demons. I felt proud to be one of them, they were truly a formidable force when they worked together like they did now. For all their squabbling and snarking back and forth, during a battle, they were one. A family.

I didn’t get to observe them like this very often, I was usually too busy doing my part in the battle to study the dynamic of our group. Their loyalty drove them to determination, they fought for each other as much as they fought for themselves. I was exhausted. I felt sick to my stomach, had a pounding headache, my vision blurred when I moved too quickly, and my limbs felt heavy. Poison will do that. I was in no state to be in the same room as a bunch of demons. Yet, with my companions here, I couldn’t have felt safer. I trusted each of them with my life.

“Ah, this really gets the blood pumping,” Zevran said with a wide grin when the last demon fell. Alistair gave him a chuckle as he sheathed his sword.   
“Let’s have a look around before we move on. There might be something here that will tell us what lies ahead,” he said as he moved to the desk and started to examine the tome on top of it. It turned out to be Wilhelm’s journal.

“Wilhelm appears to have been involved in some dangerous research…” Alistair mumbled as he leafed through the journal.   
“What does it say?” I asked as I moved over to see what Alistair was talking about.   
“Demonic possession,” Alistair replied, showing me a particular page that described how Wilhelm was interrogating a demon.   
“In the last entry he says he wanted to dismiss the demon…”

“But not how, or whether he succeeded…” I added thoughtfully.

“This entry here does explain how his granddaughter managed to get through the defences,” I pointed at one that mentioned Matthias nearly wandering into the laboratory and how Wilhelm worried about the danger. It had led him to key the defences to that they would ignore anyone of his blood. The journal also mentioned Shale, Wilhelm had been experimenting on it and for some reason he felt he needed to deactivate it. Given his violent death, I’d day that Wilhelm was right.

“If he was interrogating a demon, do you think he kept it imprisoned somehow? Is that even possible?” I asked.   
“It is,” Wynne said, “though such magics are forbidden,” she added with a frown while studying the journal.

“It could still be here, if he knew what he was doing…” Wynne said softly, staring down at the text, written in Wilhelm’s neat hand.

“Only one way to find out,” Morrigan said as she crossed her arms. Alistair nodded.   
“Do you have anything to add here, Morrigan?” he asked while motioning toward the journal. Morrigan shrugged.   
“Expect more demons, but be prepared for anything, nonetheless,” she replied.

It was a very civil exchange between the two, I was still half expecting some insult or sharp comment. But Alistair just took the journal and moved to lead us deeper into the cavernous structure.

We followed another hallway to find a girl we assumed must be Matthias’s daughter, a cat, and a strange looking contraption. Kind of like a puzzle where you had to shift pieces around to make a picture.

“Oh look, someone’s come to play,” the girl said to the cat as we approached, “you _have_ come to play? Haven’t you? We’re playing a guessing game, it’s better with more people,” she asked, turning towards Alistair, who studied the girl curiously. She seemed… at ease. Which was odd, considering the circumstances.

“Good, you’re safe. Your father was worried,” Alistair said while going down on one knee so he could be at eye-level with the girl.   
“Father? Oh, you can tell him I’m fine. Maybe he’ll come and stay with us too,” the girl replied with a bright smile, “anyway, you should go if you’re not going to play, kitty finds you distracting,” she added while giving the cat a fond look.   
“The… cat… finds me distracting?” Alistair asked with a raised eyebrow. He must have been wondering if the girl was possessed or if there was something else going on.

“Kitty is clever, she says you’ll want to take me back to my father. But I’m not going, she would be lonely,” the girl said the last bit in a firm voice. I shared a look with Morrigan.   
“I would not suggest leaving in such hostile company anyhow, Amalia. Look at how they act.” We all turned our eyes to the cat, no ordinary cat then, presumably our demon.

Alistair frowned, “that’s not really a cat, is it?” he asked with a sigh.   
“Of course she is, silly!” Amalia giggled.   
“Talking is simple enough, once you know how,” the cat replied.

“Amalia, you need to return to your father now,” Alistair said sternly, moving a hand to the pommel of his sword and moving to stand between Amalia and the cat.   
“Nothing you can say will convince Amalia to go with you, she loves only me now. I am her friend, while you are just a stranger,” the cat said while looking up at Alistair.

“I believe the girl has been charmed by this demon,” Morrigan said while looking from one to the other.   
“What have you done to the girl?” Alistair demanded.   
“I have done nothing,” the cat said innocently, “I am all but powerless, the mage made sure of that, didn’t he? I cannot leave this chamber. No, Amalia found me. After decades of isolation, her company is… welcome.” Amalia nodded affirmingly. The cat stretched.

“It seems we are at an impasse, so let me propose a… compromise, of sorts.” It looked up at Alistair expectantly, “release me, mortal, let me have the girl. Let us return to her father and leave this place forever.”   
“I don’t make deals with your kind,” Alistair said coldly.

“Alistair, a word?” I said before he could do anything rash. He looked at me in surprise, then followed me to a more secluded place.

“We can’t be sure the demon can’t possess Amalia, it got into the body of that cat, after all. I’m pretty sure that is not a demon’s natural form,” I whispered, while eyeing the cat.

“Here’s what I think, no matter what body that demon is in. It can’t leave this room, which is why it needs us to release it. That puzzle over there is half finished, it probably asked the girl to try and solve it but she couldn’t figure it out. Now she is being used as a bargaining chip, the demon is still holding her hostage,” I explained. Alistair nodded.

“Clever… So what do you propose? I am not about to make a deal with a demon,” he said as he crossed his arms.   
“You’re going to have to trick it, make it think you are releasing it and letting it have the girl. Then we can kill it once the wards are down. Something is sustaining this demon, and I suspect it’s this very prison that has been built for it, if we take it down we should be able to draw it out and kill it,” I whispered back.

“What makes you think we can’t draw it out and kill it with the wards up?” he asked.

“Think about it, that demon did not come with that cat’s body. I think it’s essence is trapped here, but it’s physical body remains in the Fade, like the demon that possessed Connor. We can kill the body it is in now, but that might not be enough. This wouldn’t be much of a prison if it’s essence could escape back to the Fade. Wilhelm wouldn’t have been able to interrogate it, the journal spoke of the demon being reluctant about answering his questions. Don’t you think it would have just gone back to the Fade if it didn’t want to give the answers Wilhelm sought?” I said quietly. Alistair gave me a sly smile.

“Thinking like a demon now, huh. You are suggesting we outsmart it? A creature that has spent it’s entire existence trying to trick mages into possession.”   
“Indeed I am, get it to tell you what it will do when it is free. I’m betting it will claim to have proper intentions, it wants you to think it wouldn’t hurt Amalia. Make it think you have sympathy for it, being locked away for so long. You can’t go back on your refusal without forcing it to make some effort to try and convince you. And you are going to have to reprimand me for undermining your leadership,” I said, Alistair rubbed his chin.

“Do I have to?” he asked hesitantly.   
“Absolutely, and you have to do it convincingly. It’ll make this exchange look less suspicious to the demon, let it think it has the upper hand and you are falling for its tricks. You have the lead, give it what it expects,” I said reassuringly. Alistair gave me the barest of nods before taking on an annoyed posture and giving me a hard look.

“So you put me in charge, and try to take over the minute I make a decision you don’t like!?” he yelled with an aggressive gesture, I cowered.   
“I just thought, maybe we should hear it out…” I stammered.   
“That is not how this works, Fela, you don’t get to take over when it suits you. Now stop undermining my leadership and do as you are told!” he snapped.   
“B-but I-,” I stammered but Alistair shut me up with a sharp gesture.

“Do not make me repeat myself,” Alistair commanded. I gave him a stunned look.   
“A-as you wish,” I stammered with wide eyes, then hung my head and did my best to look properly chastised. I looked to our companions, who looked shocked at the words that had just come out of Alistair’s mouth and my docile reaction to them. I followed Alistair, who strode back towards the demon.

“So you hope to possess the girl and walk out of here?” Alistair demanded from the demon.   
“That’s such a crude way of putting it,” the demon replied, “I do not wish to harm Amalia. I simply wish to see your world through her eyes, is that so wrong?” Alistair paused.   
“What do you intend to do when you get out, demon?” he asked suspiciously.   
“I will leave this place, Amalia and I will travel. She wants to experience all the world has to offer, I can offer her that and see to her safety during our travels,” the demon said.

I looked at Alistair, who pretended to consider the deal. Meanwhile, Amalia looked at him with pleading eyes. Alistair sighed when he met her gaze, making a show of melting before the girl’s anxious look.

“Very well, I will release you and then you can have the girl,” Alistair finally said.   
“Thank you, you are very gracious. It takes an honourable and wise man to show mercy for one such as myself. I promise you will not regret your decision,” the demon said slyly.

Alistair straightened a little, as if the demon had allowed him to save face. He did it perfectly, taking the role of the entitled, but gullible, Lordling to a whole new level. Our companions gaped, unsure of what to make of Alistair’s behaviour.

“The mage’s wards hold me in this chamber, and only a mortal may approach them,” the demon explained, “there is a trick to disarming them, but I do not know it. Perhaps you can succeed where the girl failed.”   
“Oh this is so exciting! Kitty is going to be free!” Amalia said happily.

I studied the puzzle, it consisted of twenty-four stone slabs in a five by five grid. A circular depression in each allowed a line of fire to flow over the slabs. Amalia had already created a short path. By shifting the stone slabs, we needed to finish the path that would allow the fire to flow from one corner, to the one opposite of it. Then, the wards that imprisoned the demon would be lowered, freeing it.

“We need to start from the exit point, then work our way back to the path that has already been created. Look, these arrows indicate which way the fire will flow. We just need to shift the pieces into the correct order,” Alistair said, pointing to the different slabs. He didn’t need long to figure out the puzzle, he had a talent for these things. I discretely nodded for Zevran to be ready to attack and nudged him towards toward the demon with a meaningful look before Alistair moved the final slab into place.

“Yes…” the demon gasped, “I can feel the magic fading. Oh, I had forgotten how it feels not to be caged,” it said with exasperation.   
“Kitty? What’s happening?” Amalia asked.   
“A wonderful thing my dear, for both of us,” the demon said warmly.

“I said I’d free you. I didn’t say I would let you live,” Alistair said coldly.   
“Betrayal! You will not take the girl, she is mine!” The demon hissed at him.   
“Kitty! You’re scaring me! I won’t let you inside me! I won’t!” Amalia shrieked.

I’m not sure what broke the charm, perhaps it was the shock, perhaps it had something to do with the wards being lowered. Either way, Amalia ran for it, towards safety. Good girl. As she dashed away, the demon reverted to its original form. We had come across a large number of demons already, but while most lesser demons were mostly slightly droopy humanoid shapes of shadow or fire, some had more… attractive forms. This particular demon was such a one. It could almost be called beautiful, her luscious shape was a sight to behold. If you didn’t count the light purple skin, the tail, the slightly coiled horns, and the apparently purple flaming back of her head. It had nice tits though. Zevran remarked as much before running it through with both his swords.

The demon screamed in pain and rage as Zevran pulled his blades out of her torso. She spun to hit him with one of her claws. He dodged to the side and rolled out of the way. The demon focussed her attention on me, noticing my sly smile, realisation washed over her face.

“You!” it shrieked while pressing its ‘hands’ against the wounds, “you did this! You scheming little bitch!” She lurched at me.

I stepped in close, she ended up wrapping her arms around me in a failed attempt to claw at me. She halted, gasping and looking at me in shock. I had pulled the dagger that Asher dug up for me free from my forearm. The force of her own jump driving the blade in between her ribs. I twisted it and felt it scrape along bone, blood ran from the demon’s mouth. It screamed as I pulled the dagger out, bending over slightly.

I jammed the dagger up through its jaw into its skull. It slumped, and I let it drop to the ground as I pulled my blade free. Without a word, I wiped it clean with a piece of cloth I ripped of the demon’s ‘clothes’. Which was mostly just layers of flimsy, see-through cloth around its hips. I resheathed the dagger on my forearm and looked at Alistair.

“That was perfect!” I told him with a proud smile.

“Wait,” Leliana said with a frown, “you two staged that whole argument and tricked us _and_ the demon?” Alistair nodded with a grin.   
“Come on, you think she would ever let me talk to her that way? She’d kill me,” he replied while motioning toward me. I smiled.   
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” I said playfully and winked at Alistair. Wynne shook her head.   
“Like children playing with fire,” she mumbled. Morrigan rolled her eyes at Wynne.   
“Don’t even start,” she sneered, “if the mages at your Circle of Magi were half as competent at using a demon’s games against it, you wouldn’t have so many abominations running around.” It was a low blow, Wynne had lost a lot of people she cared about.

“Damn…” Zevran said, giving Morrigan a dismayed look. I sighed, breaking the silence that followed the exchange.

“Let’s just go get that golem…” I said in a tired voice, “I am _this_ close to crapping out, and one of you will have to carry me when that happens,” I held up my thumb and index finger a short distance from each other.

Alistair let me lean on him while we made our way back to the cellar. We found Matthias holding his daughter in a relieved embrace. They were both crying. It got me a little sentimental, which I attributed to my exhaustion, of course, proud as I am. Alistair put his arm a little tighter around me, he knew better, I have a soft spot for father-daughter relationships.

“You’re back,” Matthias said while wiping his face on his sleeve.   
“Did you get hurt?” he asked with a concerned look when he saw me leaning on Alistair.   
“Nah,” I said, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”   
“No you’re not, you got poisoned with quiet death not a couple of hours ago,” he said with a knowing look.   
“ _And_ given an antidote,” I replied stubbornly.

“Anyway, that happened before we came down here, not after,” I reassured Matthias.   
“If there is anything I can do…” Matthias began, but I raised a hand.   
“It’s fine,” I said with a tired smile, “just give us the command phrase and get to safety.” Matthias nodded.

“Dullen harn. That is the phrase that will wake Shale up. I cannot thank you enough, for saving my daughter and me.” We thanked Matthias, said goodbye to Amalia, who had calmed down a bit, and were on our way back to the town square.

Alistair approached the golem once more.

“Dullen harn,” he said as he held up the control rod in front of him.

We all stared at the golem, for a moment, nothing happened. Then we started to hear the faint grating sounds of rocks being rubbed against each other. I stepped back as they became louder, the golem was waking up. Uncertain if it would be hostile or not, we all took a step back. Finally, the golem moved, as if it was snapping free of something. It looked as though it was shaking off a stiffness. Then it stretched its arms before standing upright and looking down at Alistair.

“I knew the day would come when someone found the control rod,” it said in a slightly annoyed tone.   
“And not even a mage this time, probably stumbled across the rod by accident, I suppose. Typical.”

Alistair raised his eyebrows. Whatever we were expecting a golem to behave like, it wasn’t this. A cranky golem… I had never heard of a cranky golem before.

“Er… hello to you too,” Alistair said and cocked his head.   
“I stood here in this spot, and watched the wretched little villagers scurry around me for, oh, I have no idea how long. Many, many years.” It complained. Alistair crossed his arms.

“And yet the villagers had no idea they were being watched… creepy…” he replied and the Shale sighed.   
“And I was just beginning to get used to the quiet too. Tell me, are all the villagers dead?” it continued.   
“I take it you don’t really care about that, do you?” Alistair replied.

“Familiarity breeds contempt, as they say. And after thirty years as a captive audience, I was as familiar with these villagers as one could possibly be,” Shale answered, “not that I wished their fate on them, no, but it did make for a delightful change of pace.”   
“Did you watch the attack?” Alistair asked.   
“Not as much as it would think. There was running, and screaming… and then days and days of watching darkspawn prowl about. I never thought there could be something less interesting to watch than villagers, but there it was. Well, go on then, out with it, what is its command?” Shale looked at Alistair expectantly.

“Why are you calling me ‘it’?” Alistair asked with raised eyebrows.   
“Entrenched sense of perversity. The last one who held that damnable rod used to call me ‘golem’.” Shale replied in an unapologetic manner, “’golem, fetch me that chair’, ‘do be a good golem and squash that insipid bandit’, and let’s not forget, ‘golem, pick me up, I tire of walking’,” Shale continued. “It… does have the control rod, doesn’t it? I am awake so it… must…” it asked.

“Is something wrong?” Alistair inquired, studying Shale with great interest.  
“I _see_ the control rod, yet… I feel… go on, order me to do something,” it said expectantly.   
“Alright, walk over there,” Alistair said, pointing at the road.   
“And… nothing? I feel nothing. I feel no compulsion to carry out its command. I suppose this means the rod is… broken?” Shale sounded curious.

“So… what now, are you going on a killing rampage?” Alistair asked bluntly.   
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shale replied, “well… I wouldn’t mind killing the birds… those evil birds and their foul droppings, I could crush them all! I suppose if I can’t be commanded, this means… I have free will, yes?” it added, sounding hopeful and raising a stone eyebrow, “it’s just that… What should I do? I have no memories, beyond watching the villagers for so long, I have no purpose… I find myself at a bit of a loss. What about it? It must have awoken me for some reason? What did it intend to do with me?” Shale asked Alistair.

“I was hoping you would help us in stopping the Blight,” Alistair replied honestly.   
“I see… wonderful… I suppose I have two options, do I not? Go with it, or… go elsewhere. I… do not even know what lies beyond this village.”   
“Are you going to keep calling me ‘it’?”   
“Yes. Very likely.”

I chuckled at the exchange. Shale was nothing like I had expected, this seemed more like a stone person to me than a golem. Looking at the ‘body language’ and listening to the intonations of its voice, it was far more expressive than I had expected a golem to be.

“What do you _want_ to do?” Alistair asked.   
“I have watched this village for so long… unable to move or act. My memories of anything before are… vague, at best,” Shale replied thoughtfully. “So I have no idea what I want to do. I am glad to be mobile, is that not enough?” it asked.

“I suppose it’s better than being stuck here,” Alistair answered with I shrug, “I am told you killed your former master,” he said and looked at Shale curiously.   
“Did I? I remember I _had_ a former master. The mage with the furry brow who poked and prodded and barked orders. Did I kill him? I hope I did. Perhaps his last command was ’golem, stop crushing my head,’ ha!” Alistair raised his eyebrows.

“I notice you don’t call him ‘it’,” he said.   
“Yes, I am funny that way,” Shale replied flippantly.   
“So, how am I supposed to trust you?” Alistair asked.   
“I have no idea, how does it trust anything else without a control rod?” Shale replied. I chuckled louder this time and earned a glare from Alistair.   
“Good point,” he admitted.   
“They haven’t killed it yet, I consider this a good sign,” Shale added.   
“Well, you are welcome to come with us,” he finally said.   
“I will follow it about, for now. I am called Shale, by the way.”   
“Is that your name… or what you are made of?” Alistair asked hesitantly.

“It would rather I be called Flint? Pebbles? How about rubble?” Shale replied and laughed.

And just like that, Shale decided to join us. It wasn’t what we had expected, I had never heard of golem with free will. Not that had I ever met one before, of course. But Shale was... Something.


	28. The Journey to Orzammar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela asks Shale a number of golem-related questions. Fela and Alistair dream about the Archdemon, and she had a talk with Sten.

I was curious about Shale. Whether all golems were like it or if it was an exception among its kind? I had at least two dozen questions pop up in my mind. So as we travelled to find a suitable place to make camp, I struck up a conversation with Shale as soon as I felt well enough to walk without Alistair supporting me.

“Shale, how come you hate birds?” I asked innocently, knowing full well it would trigger a rant about birds. I wanted to get to know the golem, and it had been difficult to get it to talk to me. So, I decided to ask about something it appeared to be passionate about, its hatred of birds.

“Does it have to ask?” Shale huffed, “their constant chirping, being covered in their excrement with feathers strewn all over? Ugh!”   
“Pooped on you a lot, did they?” I asked sympathetically.   
“At some point, the villagers even started throwing birdseed at me, attracting the foul things! Can you imagine?” Shale continued.   
“I don’t think I can, as I have never spent a very long time completely immobile,” I replied.   
“A fair point,” Shale admitted.

“No wonder birds piss you off,” I said, “you must have ached to squash a few for shitting on you. I know I would.”   
“It has no idea.”   
“So, how much can you actually remember? It can’t be all boring villagers and feathery fiends? That would be terribly depressing,” I asked, hoping I had finally gotten through to it.   
“And infuriating,” Shale replied, “I don’t remember much beyond the last thirty years or so,” it replied.   
“Do you know how golems are made?” I asked curiously.   
“No, does it?”   
“Nope. All I know is that it’s a dwarven invention, but beyond that, I got nothing,” I replied with a shrug.   
“It is going to Orzammar, is it not? This is a dwarven city, as I understand,” Shale mused.   
“Do you think there might be something there for you? Some information about who you are, perhaps?” I asked hesitantly.

Shale stared at me with a stony gaze.

“I notice it calls me a ‘who’, _who_ I am, and not _what_ I am.” I nodded.   
“Do you not consider yourself a ‘who’?” I asked curiously, “I mean, you have free will, you have emotions, opinions of your own. You seem pretty much like a person to me, albeit a stone one.”   
“You would attribute these things to something made of stone?” Shale asked, “why not? You’re right there, displaying all those things. Am I to assume you cannot have these because you are made of stone, rather than flesh? How would you explain your behaviour? It seems pretty clear to me you have presence of mind, you are obviously aware of yourself,” I explained. Shale didn’t reply.

“Please don’t tell me I am the first person ever to think of _you_ as a person, rather than an object?” I asked, suddenly aware of what that assumption may represent for Shale. I hoped I hadn’t struck a nerve, but Shale’s silence didn't really tell me anything.

“Uhm… I hope I didn’t upset you… I don’t know… I’ve never met a golem before, I’m sorry if I said anything wrong,” I said cautiously.   
“It didn’t,” Shale finally said.   
“Its treatment of me is different than that of most, I find it refreshing.”

Shale continued to tell me of its experiences with humans. I’m afraid the people of Honleath didn’t make a very good case for us. And neither did Wilhelm and his wife. I tried to put myself in Shale’s shoes, and found it hadn’t been treated very well, not if you considered Shale a person, like I did. It was treated as a tool, Wilhelm even chipped it down a bit so it could fit through the front door because his wife complained about Shale’s size. The thought that someone would alter my body in order to fit another’s demands was appalling to me.

“So, if you are a person… Do you have a gender?” I asked curiously, I felt I had been making good headway bonding with Shale and moved on to the more awkward questions I had.   
“Why does it ask?” Shale replied.   
“Well, your body bears no visible genitalia, so it’s hard to tell for me. Are you a he, or a she?” I explained.   
“Do I have to be either? Which one is it?” Shale asked.   
“I am a woman, so I am a she,” I clarified.   
“How does it know?” Shale asked with a raised stone eyebrow.   
“Well, the boobs for instance,” I said gesturing at my chest, noticing Zevran perking up, “and I have female reproduction organs. Leliana, Wynne, and Morrigan are women too. The rest are men, see, flat chest, generally of wider build.” I said while pointing at each of my companions. Shale looked around.

“I appear to have none of the characteristics that would indicate either gender, that must mean I have none,” it said. I nodded.   
“That makes sense, I suppose.” 

By the time we made camp, I felt I had started to get along with it well enough. It didn’t seem particularly violent, except towards birds of course. And I learned a lot about its attitude towards people and how it had come to be so. Shale just didn’t have a lot of good experiences with them. I hoped to rectify that a bit, it seemed like a good plan to befriend the golem. And it had an odd sense of humour. It knew countless limericks, and enjoyed sharing them. Truth be told, I rather liked Shale, it was blunt, witty, and at times, funny. I wondered if all golems had personalities, Shale certainly had a strong one.

After we went about our daily routine, I went to sleep. Shale needed no sleep, and though it was a little reluctant, it agreed to keep watch. Though it wouldn’t keep watch alone, one of us would be awake with it and share in its watch. Though I felt fairly certain Shale wasn’t going to murder us in our sleep, I preferred to have someone with it at all times. Just in case. Besides, it had spent so much time as just a tool, I felt I owed it some sense of respect. I wouldn’t expect a person to watch the camp for the entire night, why should I expect it from Shale? Even though it would be awake anyway, leaving it to watch alone seemed unfair.

Alistair followed me into our tent, “you spent a lot of time talking to Shale today,” he said, while taking off his boots.   
“I did, didn’t I? Are you feeling ignored, my love?” I asked with a sweet smile and kissed him on the cheek.   
“I’m sure you can think of a way to make up for it. But right now, I think you need rest,” he said softly. He took his clothes off, and lay down on his back, inviting me to snuggle up against him.

“I’m glad we made the effort to get Shale,” I said as I lay down beside him, “things turned out alright, I think.”   
“Except for that poisoned sword.”   
“Except for that poisoned sword,” I admitted, “of all the hits I could have taken, I took a particularly nasty one.”   
“Plus that graze on you upper arm,” Alistair added. I looked at my wounded arm, which I had draped across his chest.

“It’s not so bad,” I said reassuringly, “just another scar for my collection.”   
“So how do you feel now?” Alistair asked, “honestly? I feel like I have been chewed up, spit out, and shat on. My head hurts, I feel weak, and I am out of breath at the barest of efforts.” I replied with a sigh. Alistair kissed my brow.

"Just sleep now,” he whispered, “you’ll feel better when you wake up.” I sighed and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. Sleep took me almost immediately.

My dreams were not so bad that night. I slept fitfully, as always, the dreams were still unsettling. But I managed to get more sleep than I usually did. Unfortunately, that meant I felt even more tired when I woke up early in the morning. Wynne’s painkillers had worn off, and I felt my bruises and wounds much more keenly than last night. My leg burned, as did my arm, and one of my wrists was bruised by a mailed fist.

Alistair had dragged me to safety quite forcefully. I didn’t blame him, he got me out of the heat of the battle. With that wound, and poison coursing through my veins, I wouldn’t have been able to defend myself properly. A bruised wrist was the least of my problems. I sat up slowly, reaching for my pounding head. Alistair stirred in his sleep beside me, I was about to get up when Alistair put his hand on my leg.

“Stay,” he whispered sleepily. He put his arms around me as I lay back down.

“Did I do that?” he asked while stroking my bruised arm, I nodded.   
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.   
“Don’t be,” I whispered back, “you got me out of the fight.”   
“I also got you in it,” he replied.   
“Nah, I got myself in it, don’t get it into your head that you make choices for me. You know me better,” I whispered with a sigh. Alistair smiled and kissed my forehead.

“So, are you feeling better?” Alistair asked.   
“I will once I get a new dose of painkillers, right now, I feel pretty much the same but worse,” I replied, he kissed my forehead again.

“Do you want me to go get them for you?” Alistair asked.   
“In a moment,” I replied, burying my face in his neck and breathing in his scent. He smelled like sweat, blood, and smoke. And honestly, he smelled perfect.

“I don’t want to go out of bed today,” I whispered.   
“Me neither,” Alistair replied. We shared a moment of rare silence and tranquility, not many of those these days. But, reality had to set back in eventually.

“I’ll be right back,” Alistair said, as he untangled himself from me and put on trousers and a shirt. He left the tent barefoot to go see if Wynne was awake yet. She tended to be up early, and sure enough, Alistair soon came back with a vial and a canteen. I downed the contents of the vial and took a long drink of water to get the bitter taste out of my mouth.

“Thank you,” I said, as I lay back down to wait for the drug to kick in.

Alistair lay down next to me and gently put one of his arms around me again.   
“You’re nice and warm,” he said while pulling me closer. I let him rest his head on my shoulder and bent my good arm so I could run my fingers through his hair.

“What do you think about Shale?” Alistair asked quietly.   
“I don’t know yet, I want to get to know it better. It might be a bit prickly, but I suspect it has a kind nature. If you ignore the bird obsession, of course,” I replied, and Alistair nodded.   
“Well, it hasn’t crushed anyone in their sleep. I’ll take that as a good sign,” he replied. I chuckled.   
“I don’t think we need to worry about that. Shale seems to appreciate the companionship,” I said and kissed Alistair’s forehead.

“I’ll trust your judgement, Maker knows you’ve got a talent for making a friend out of an enemy,” he said, referring to Zevran, Flemeth, Morrigan, Sten, perhaps even Leliana. The only two companions Alistair had liked from the moment we met them were Wynne, and Asher. He tended to be a little mistrustful. I wondered about that from time to time, for someone with such a kind nature and a willingness to help other people, he was a bit paranoid about trusting them sometimes. His trust must have been betrayed a few too many times, perhaps even taken advantage of. He yearned for a family to love him unconditionally, he had never had that. And I suspected that, secretly, he even believed that he didn’t deserve it.

While Alistair was easy to talk to, and even easier to like, he tended to keep people at a safe distance from himself on an emotional level. Arl Eamon, Bann Teagan, Wynne… None of them truly knew him, and he worked hard to keep it that way. Perhaps Duncan’s loss had something to do with it. Or perhaps, Arl Eamon, sending him off to a Chantry in favour of his new wife. Either way, something inside him had been deeply and terribly hurt. It’s not so strange he would try to avoid making himself vulnerable like that again. Even in front of me. He was entitled to his secrets of course, Maker knows I have plenty of them. And slowly, but surely, Alistair was starting to show me his true colours.

He was far more capable than he let anyone think. Clever, quick to grasp complex information, well-educated, a bit rebellious even. He hid these things behind a carefully constructed façade of a disarming, happy-go-lucky, goofy attitude. It was who he was, a true face. Just not _all_ he was. I don’t think he was doing it on purpose, it was more of a survival strategy. One for someone who had been told he was a mistake far too many times. Likeable, yet protected.

“Alistair?”   
“Yes?”   
“I love you.”   
“I love you too,” he said and got up on one arm to kiss me.

“You’ve been brooding on something, haven’t you?” he asked knowingly.   
“I am always brooding on something,” I replied innocently.   
“Just tell me,” he insisted. I sighed.

“Alright… I’ve noticed you are slow to trust strangers. And I was ‘brooding’ on how that came to be. Because it seems a little out of place with your usually kind and easy-going attitude,” I explained.   
“And what conclusions did you draw?” Alistair asked, slightly amused.   
“Pretty much the same as the conclusions I drew when we had our talk about ‘Alistair unchained’, you’ve been hurt too many times. So you shield yourself. It makes sense,” I replied with a slight shrug.

“Or, perhaps it is because I don’t like to share your attention with a big cranky statue.” Alistair said playfully. I laughed.   
“Oh? And sharing me with Isabella was totally different, I suppose?” I said with a wicked grin. Alistair shook his head.   
“The way I see it, _we_ shared _her_. Big difference,” he said.   
“Or Isabella and I shared you, depends on how you look at it,” I added with a giggle. Alistair smiled and ran his hand slowly up my thigh. 

“What’s all this about sharing people?” I heard Zevran’s voice from outside the tent and rolled my eyes.   
“I swear, he has a sixth sense for these things,” I said with a bland look.   
“Indeed, I do,” Zevran replied, “plus, that tent doesn’t muffle much noise. But, I am not one to complain.”   
“We know. Unfortunately,” Alistair said with a sigh, removing his hand from my leg.

“When you two are done pillow-talking, you should come and have breakfast, it’s almost finished,” Morrigan said in her mocking voice. I shook my head.   
“Even you, Morrigan?”

She didn’t reply, but I was certain she rolled her eyes at me. I got up, the painkillers had started working, and I got dressed. Ignored Zevran’s grin as I got out of the tent, and sat down by the fire where I slowly started to put on my armor.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” Wynne asked and offered me a cup of tea.   
“Much better, thanks,” I smiled at her gratefully.   
“If we run into a fight today, I advise you to stay back as much as possible. That drug I gave you will slow your reflexes and reaction speed. I’ve seen how much you rely on those,” she said warmly, I nodded.   
“Good advice, thank you,” I replied.

We were back on the road to Orzammar quickly. We made good time until we ran into darkspawn. I did as Wynne told me and stayed out of the battle, my companions took them down well enough without me. So I took the opportunity to observe Shale, it went through the darkspawn like they were nothing. Their weapons couldn’t hurt it, and it was amazingly efficient at taking the creatures out. Smashing skulls left and right. I’m pretty sure I saw a stony smile on its face, I wasn’t sure if I was happy for it, or creeped out. Either way, I was glad to have it on our side.

“Shale! That was awesome!” I said with a wide grin when it smashed the last of the darkspawn onto a rock. It looked at me inquisitively.   
“It looks surprised,” it said flatly.   
“Surprised? No. Awed would be the word I’d use,” I replied.   
“It flatters me.” Shale said dismissively and proceeded to stomp a lost chicken with a loud thump of its foot. Shale gave the rocky equivalent of a shrug when it saw me staring at it. I decided to leave it alone. Birds were a touchy subject. So I went to check on Alistair instead.

“Did you get hit?” I asked as I put a hand on his armored shoulder.   
“Nowhere vulnerable,” he replied looking at the dented pauldron.   
“But I’ll have an impressive bruise I suspect,” he added.   
“Should I take the pauldron off for you?” I offered.   
“No, it’s fine. Let’s get moving,” he replied and went to check on the rest of our group. We set up camp later that day in a small clearing.

We sat around the fire for a while after dinner, but Alistair and I went to sleep early. Asher followed to watch over us, as he always did. Alistair and I assumed our regular spooning position, with my back against his front. He nuzzled my neck and pulled me closer against him.

“You smell nice,” he whispered. I chuckled.   
“I smell like fallen leaves, and sweat,” I whispered back.   
“Yeah, like sex on the forest floor,” he replied and gently nipped my ear. I could feel him growing hard again against my backside. I moved my hips back, pressing myself against him, and smiled.

“You’re insatiable,” I whispered, turning my head back to find his lips, his tongue.   
“I blame you,” he whispered and slowly started moving his hips, sliding his hand down my panties.   
“Hmm, just can’t help yourself?” I asked with a gasp as I felt his touch.   
“No,” he replied, sliding a finger inside me and running it back up to gently rub me.   
“What happened to all that discipline?” I teased.

“You, and that delicious pussy of yours,” he spoke into my ear, knowing full well how it turned me on. I let out a quiet moan as he slipped a finger inside of me again, and then a second. I moved to pull down my panties and tugged at Alistair’s shorts next. He took it off. We remained in our spooning position. Alistair moved a hand around my hip to gently rub me again, teasing me with his tip before slipping inside from behind.

We moved in a slow, lazy rhythm, taking our time to savour each deep, slow stroke. Alistair’s hand moved from between my legs to my breasts, and up to my throat. Taking a firm grip, but not too tight to cut off my breathing. Just enough to let me know he was in charge. I moved a hand down to rub myself, while Alistair fucked me in his maddeningly slow rhythm. I felt his breath on my skin, which was now covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Then I felt his tongue run along the edge of my ear, and I gasped again in arousal.

“Please, just a little faster,” I whispered.   
“No,” he replied sternly, gripping my throat just a little tighter.   
“Please,” I repeated.   
“No,” Alistair whispered again and he thrust into me hard, drawing another gasp from my lips. I clawed at the bedroll, driven nearly mad by his tantalizingly slow movements. Desperate for the release he was denying me.

Alistair bit down on my shoulder, finally, he slightly increased his pace. I moved with him, matching the movements of his hips with mine. His grip on my throat tightened again as our pace increased, I felt that delicious tension build up through my abdomen.

“Squeeze harder,” I whispered, and he did. My body tensed as my breathing was cut off, and the tension surged through my body. Alistair released his grip as it broke, I gasped and moaned as waves of release coursed through me. Prolonged by Alistair reaching his own climax, he bit down harder and groaned. Thrusting in deeper and releasing his seed. I felt him pulsate, and moaned again. His fingers were digging into the flesh of my hip as he savoured the last echoes of pleasure.

We basked in the moment for a while, catching our breath. I put my hand on his and smiled. “I do love it when you take control,” I whispered. I felt his smile against my neck.   
“You’re going to have a good time at Orzammar, then,” he replied softly. I chuckled.   
“Promises, promises.” I was drifting off to sleep already, and Alistair remained contently quiet. I let myself sink into a deep state of relaxation, feeling Alistair’s warmth, his breath on my skin, the weight of his arm around me. And sleep took me.

It didn’t last long, I awoke to Asher licking my face and Alistair shaking my shoulder.

“Fela,” he whispered urgently, _“wake up.”_

My eyes snapped open and I drew in a sharp breath through my nose. The images of the dream quickly faded from my mind, I was left with a hollow feeling in my chest and drying tears on my face. I needed a moment to organise my thoughts and recognise where I was.

“Are you ok?” Alistair asked quietly as he lay down beside me again.   
“I don’t know…” I replied. I raised a hand to my chest, where I felt the old familiar void, the tired, but fast, beating of my heart.   
“Fjodor again?” Alistair whispered.   
“No…” I whispered back, “I think it was different this time… I’m not sure, the memories slip from my mind like wet soap from my hands sometimes…”   
“But you’re still left with the feeling it brought on, aren’t you?” Alistair asked, I nodded. Alistair took me in his arms and held me close.

“You were whispering something, I couldn’t really make it out…” he said quietly.   
“I do that sometimes, my parents and Fergus told me it was incoherent gibberish most of the time. Sometimes a plea for help or to make something stop,” I explained.   
“It didn’t sound like pleas or gibberish though…” he replied pensively. I raised my eyebrows, looking up at him.   
“How so?” I asked.   
“You sounded angry,” Alistair answered.   
“Really? Well, I’ll count that as progress. It’s better than despair and grief” I said as I stretched, “anger is easier to manage.” I added with a sigh after releasing my stretch.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember what the dream had been about. It was an odd mental exercise, reaching into some cluttered and chaotic corner of my mind. An unpredictable corner, one not easily accessed. I often found I could recall old dreams better when I was close to falling asleep. By imagining that feeling, of becoming heavy and drift off, sometimes I could recall some things that I thought I had forgotten. The memories weren’t always particularly clear, I might even have fabricated them based on the emotions they rioted. Subconsciously coming up for some explanation for what I was feeling. Indeed, sometimes I recalled the most ridiculous things.

Like being in the middle of a pool, unable to swim to shore because I was shrinking. Up until the point I had shrunk so far that the water felt like a mass of individual particles to me. Smothering, choking, pushing me further away from shore. I tried not to read into these dreams too much, they were completely unrealistic. And yet, the desperation I had felt while struggling against the ‘water particles’ and my own shrinking was very real.

The images were mostly a manifestation of the feeling I think. Other times, things in my dreams seemed so real and logical I had trouble deciding whether or not I was remembering something that had actually happened. I thought myself to be quite insane sometimes, doubting my own sense of reality. Luckily, these were often small things, like whether or not Wynne had given me a tinderbox. Which I could not find and wondered if I had lost it, or if it never happened. Never things like whether or not I had seen Loghain’s forces retreat from Ostagar, betraying the King and the Grey Wardens. Leaving them to be massacred. No, those things were clear. And I didn’t need Alistair and Wynne’s accounts to back that up. The memory felt different, solid.

With effort, I managed to dredge up some vague impressions, it was tricky. The impressions and memories were soft, malleable things. It was easy to let them slip through and back into my subconscious as I reached inside. There was a longing and a need to retaliate against something. But I wasn’t clear on what or whom I needed to retaliate against and why. My conscious mind drifted to Loghain and Howe immediately of course, but in the dream… Something else had represented my target.

The thing I absolutely _needed_ to do. In the dream, that is. What had I been after… What was the explanation for the massive rage that drove me in the dream, why did I dread not being able to do it? In the dream, I had known for a fact that I absolutely _had_ to destroy something or someone. And I had known that it was as vital as breathing that it got done. But Loghain and Howe, nor the Archdemon for that matter, were not what sprang from that warped and twisted piece of my mind. Dreams don’t follow logic, they are not bothered by the bounds of reality, they just… unravel. Most of the time. This time, the dream had been of the illogical kind. A nameless stranger had been my target in the dream, someone I had never met before, never known. That made the dream maddeningly frustrating to experience. To have such a dire need and not know how to fulfill it.

I opened my eyes again, staring up at the ceiling of our tent. I let go of the impressions and memories and turned my attention to soothing the feeling of dread within myself. I was awake now, and I knew exactly who to kill. Though right now, there were more important matters that demanded my attention. Howe and Loghain were crafty enough to stay alive for a bit longer, I could bide my time. And devise a constructive way for me to murder them.

Well, Howe, at least. I was actually planning on letting Alistair have the satisfaction of killing Loghain, if he wanted it. I had some dark thought concerning those two particular marks, thoughts I never would have shared with anyone. I fantasized about killing Howe sometimes. I fantasized about having him on his knees and beg me for mercy, only to deny it. To inflict pain, a slow death, justice. It was petty, I know. But they were just daydreams, I wasn’t going to torture Howe to death for real, it would be ridiculously unpractical. Considering the noise and time it would take. Immoral too, maybe…

But what did I care if it was immoral, Howe sure didn’t when he murdered my family. If I didn’t kill him, I’m sure he would kill many more until someone else finally grew the balls to do something about it. By doing nothing, those deaths might as well be on me if I passed up the chance. But, the chance, the opportunity, yet needed to be created. Howe was a public figure, after all. His death would not go unnoticed, I’d rather have some control over the situation.

We fell asleep again eventually, though not for very long. Alistair and I shared the next nightmare, we saw the horde, and the Archdemon. Though I couldn’t see Alistair as I dreamt, I could feel his presence. I knew he was experiencing the same thing I was. It was like he stood just outside my field of vision all the time, moving with me to stay in my blind spot. But I knew he was there.

The Archdemon roared, it was a raw, grating, and shrieking sound. I feared the sheer power of it would shatter my bones as it roared again and breathed fire in my direction. The fire didn’t burn me, I was too far away for that. But I could have sworn I felt the heat on my skin, a hot wind washed over me. So powerful it caused me to step back. I steadied myself as I saw the thing flying toward me, opening its massive jaws for another shrieking roar. Its mouth was lined with rows of massive teeth, they looked razor sharp despite their size. I braced myself for the moment the fire would hit.

Asher barked louder, a huge paw on my shoulder and licking my face in between barks.

“Ow! You’re heavy, get off!” I pushed my dog aside and turned to look at Alistair. He sat up straight, looking a little disorientated, trying to focus on something. I turned back to Asher.   
“I’m sorry, it’s ok. Good boy, you did your job,” I said quietly and scratched him behind his ears. Then I felt it. Those familiar soft vibrations in the back of my mind, darkspawn were coming.

“Wake the others,” I instructed Asher, he obeyed. Alistair and I got up immediately, quickly getting dressed and picking up our weapons. There was no time to put on armor, Alistair made due with just his chainmail shirt, I only wore trousers and a shirt.

We stepped outside and met our companions.

“Hide in the shadows, be ready,” Alistair commanded as we approached the fire, making ourselves easy to spot. Darkspawn weren’t a particularly clever lot, they could sense us but not our companions. And the number of tents didn’t seem to give them any inclination there were more than the two of us. So we showed ourselves, drawing them to us and allowing our companions to remain hidden. Even Shale managed to hide, and it was huge.

The first darkspawn to burst from the treeline went straight for Alistair and me, not bothering to look anywhere else. We were counting on this. I tripped the first with a low kick and sliced at its neck. My blades trailed blood as I swung to attack another that came at me. I blocked its blow easily and ran my blades through its stomach, pulling them back in one swift motion to slice at another that tried to flank Alistair. I took it in the side, just below the ribs. There was no bone to protect it there and I grinned in satisfaction as it went down and I jammed my blades into its back.

I kicked at the next, sweeping my leg upwards to hit it just below the chin. It’s head slammed back as it stumbled to the ground and dropped its axe. I stabbed its arm when it tried to reach for its weapon, letting out a bloodcurdling howl. It sounded more of rage than pain. I stabbed it through the throat with my other blade and twisted to shut it up. Then I looked up to the treeline.

The next wave of darkspawn came crashing through, led by two hurlock emissaries. Leliana shot one in the neck immediately, the other got hit by a fireball from Morrigan. Sten and Zevran joined Alistair and me in the light. An arrow missed me by an inch.

“Kill the archers!” I shouted as I cut down another genlock. Morrigan, Shale, and Leliana got to work and Wynne supported us from a distance. I heard Sten groan as he took a blow to the stomach with a mace from one of the darkspawn, he bent over gasping for air. I leapt forward and sheared through the genlock’s arm by the elbow as it raised the mace to hit Sten in the back of the head. It howled and shrieked as its arm came free, its hand still holding the mace. I kicked it to the side and helped Sten stand up straight to suck air back into his lungs.

“Duck,” he croaked and immediately swung his blade at my head, I dodged to the side as he took the head off another genlock that had been coming for me from behind. I swiped at the legs of another as I rolled to my feet. It went down on its hands and knees, and I kicked it in the stomach so hard, it flipped over on its back. It continued to roll as I brought down one blade to stab it, barely evading my attack. It wasn’t counting on Zevran, however, who happily stabbed it for me. He curtsied to me before continuing on to the next.

Finally, the Alpha’s emerged from the treeline, charging us. I stood up straight, ready to meet them. But Morrigan froze both of them mid-dash and Shale shattered them easily. The remaining darkspawn went down easily after that, I watched as my companions struck them down. Then frowned.

“This is the third time we’ve been attacked at night,” Sten said, turning towards me after the last one fell.   
“You should get into the habit of sleeping in your armor,” he said matter-of-factly. Zevran smirked.   
“I have a feeling that isn’t going to happen,” he said while wiping his blade on the patchy armor of one of the dead darkspawn. Sten just looked at me blankly.

“You’re probably right,” I said with a shrug, “but Zevran’s right, too,” I added. Alistair chuckled and Zevran nodded at me in appreciation. Sten shook his head and started to gather his things. Alistair instructed the rest of the group to gather their things as well, we couldn’t stay there anymore.

After a good hour and a half of walking, Alistair decided we had put enough distance between ourselves and the camp we had left. Like before, we didn’t bother setting up the tents in the dark and just slept around the fire. Well most of us, Alistair and I didn’t sleep much after moving camp. We just held watch quietly for a while as the others drifted off to sleep again.

“Busy night…” I whispered softly. Alistair nodded without looking up from the fire.   
“You dreamt it too, didn’t you?” he whispered back.   
“The Archdemon… Yes,” I replied absently.   
“I could have sworn you were right there with me…” Alistair whispered with a pensive look on his face.   
“Funny you should say that…” I replied, turning my head to look at him.   
“Why?” he asked with a frown.  
“Because I could have sworn the exact same thing,” I replied. We stared at each other for a moment.

“Must have something to do with the Taint and the Fade…” Alistair mused,   
“Did it breath fire at you? The Archdemon?” he asked.   
“It did, the first burst didn’t reach me but I felt the heat. It swept down to breath fire at me again, and I was bracing myself, but Asher woke me. It was definitely coming at me, I think it knew I was there…”

The thought disturbed me a bit, could it have known I was there? What kind of link did the Fade actually provide? It seemed unlikely to me that the Archdemon just happened to be dreaming at the exact same time as us. Perhaps it existed on both planes?

“It can’t hurt us in the Fade, you know that right?” Alistair whispered. He must have read the expression on my face. I nodded, staring into the fire again.

“I think it’s drawing closer… The horde, and the Archdemon. I fear time is running out,” I finally whispered.   
“It will, inevitably…” Alistair affirmed. I had expected some words of consolation, some optimism. He didn’t give any.

“We’re so fucked…” I sighed, immediately glancing at Wynne’s sleeping form.   
_Language,_ I thought to myself in Wynne’s voice.   
“Indeed we are,” Alistair said with a nod.

“We’ll have to face that thing sooner or later. If we live that long,” his voice was calm, like he was talking about the weather.   
“You… don’t seem very upset by that?” I said with an inquisitive look. He shrugged.   
“At least we’re doing something about it. Like you said, laying down and waiting to die isn’t going to accomplish anything but ensure our deaths. We’re taking our chances, nothing is certain,” he replied.

He was right, of course. But I found my resolve waver from time to time, the reminder was a welcome one. It must have been the fatigue, both mental and physical.

“The choice is between maybe dying, and definitely dying,” I whispered, “that’s what I said to myself before I drank from the chalice at my Joining.”   
“And then you proceeded to take a deep drink with flair,” Alistair recalled, “like it was a fine wine you were tasting.” I chuckled.   
“I thought I might as well go out with style. Still do,” I replied scooting just a little closer and curling up under Alistair’s arm.

“If I am going to be eaten by a big, ugly dragon in an attempt to save Ferelden, I at least want to make a lasting impression. Maybe use some kind of explosives, make it a real spectacle. I’ve always liked explosives,” I rambled on as I felt Alistair begin to chuckle quietly.   
“You’re the weirdest woman I’ve ever met,” he whispered.   
“I love you too,” I replied with a smile, and looked up to kiss him.

We didn’t get any more sleep that night, and we were early to rise and continue on our way to Orzammar. We decided to spar some other time, we were tired and eager to get moving. I wish I could say the rest of the journey to Orzammar went by peacefully. It didn’t. We ran into bandits later that day, and it turned into a slaughter.

Our party worked together as one, after so many battles together, we were finely tuned in to one another. We had naturally developed a sort of synthesis, complementing each other while working together closely. I often fought back to back with Alistair. Sten and Zevran did the same. Shale didn’t need anyone watching its back, and stomped and punched its way around any battlefield happily.

Wynne, Leliana, and Morrigan formed their own faction within our group. Wynne providing support, Morrigan specializing in more lethal magic cast from a distance or using shape-shifting magic. And Leliana provided cover for all of us while at the same time keeping enemies away from Wynne and Morrigan. It made us remarkably effective and we cut through the bandits easily.

Thankfully, that night and the next day were blissfully uneventful. Save from some snarking back and forth between Alistair and Morrigan. She didn’t like that he was taking the lead, and voiced her objections bluntly. Alistair wasn’t having any of it, somehow managing to avoid engaging in discussion and ending the conversation. I was impressed, Morrigan knew just how to set Alistair off, but he didn’t let her get to him. Sten seemed to grow restless as we drew closer to Orzammar in the next few days. Anticipating the recovery of his sword, I suspected. So I decided to have a chat with him.

After Alistair decided on a place to make camp for the night, I set up my tent and went to look for Sten. I found him playing tug-of-war with Asher, using a piece of rope he had tied into several knots. I watched them for a while, amused at how Sten seemed to be growling and snarling just as much as Asher was. The two of them shared an odd relationship, one I enjoyed watching. Asher seemed to be giving the large Qunari a fair challenge, then again, Asher was basically a big chunk of muscle on four legs. Sten gave Asher the command to release the rope when he saw me watching them.

“Good to see that Asher gets his chance to spar too,” I said with a smile as I approached Sten. He nodded.   
“Your Mabari is strong, you should be proud,” he replied while petting Asher on his head.   
“I am,” I affirmed, “Sten, I’ve noticed you seem a bit restless. And I suspect this is because we are getting closer to finding your sword. I wanted to remind you, I haven’t forgotten. As soon as we get there, I plan on tracking down Faryn with you.”

“Thank you, Warden. But won’t there be other matters that require your attention?” he replied hesitantly.   
“Perhaps, but we’ll need to resupply anyway, might as well ask around. And I did put Alistair in charge of securing the treaty, that should allow me some more leisure,” I replied. Sten looked at me inquisitively.

“Why did you give him command?” he asked slowly.   
“Because I believe it is important that people see him as someone who can lead them rather than someone who can only follow,” I explained.   
“Why?” Sten asked confused.   
“Because he might become our next King,” I said bluntly.   
“Oh. That makes sense,” Sten said rubbing his chin. I raised my eyebrows.   
“It does?”

“Yes, he has a spine in there somewhere, though he doesn’t use it often. He can use the practice,” Sten replied.   
“That’s a little unfair, Sten.”   
“Why?”   
“Do you remember when you explained to me that people don’t get to choose who they are in life?” I asked, and Sten nodded.

“Well, Alistair has spent his entire life being told that he has no place in the royal family, that he is in no way in line for the throne, and that he is a complication, a mistake. He had no choice in this, he was born a bastard and that is the role that has been forced on him. Now that things have changed, suddenly he is expected be something he has been taught _not_ to be,” I explained patiently. Sten nodded slowly.

“I think I see what you mean…” he said pensively, “like the farmer turned merchant. Some may expect him to be a merchant but he will always be a farmer…” I nodded.   
“Alistair may not have been raised to lead, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t. He possesses more wisdom and skill than he gives himself credit for, it’s not strange that people underestimate him, you included, when he underestimates himself so much,” I finished, hoping that Sten understood. The situation didn’t quite fit into Qunari logic.

Sten nodded again.

“Bastard or no, he comes from the royal line. He should have been taught to lead,” Sten said brusquely, I cocked my head and looked at him inquisitively.   
“So you agree?” I asked with slight hesitation.   
“To some extend…” Sten replied.   
“But not entirely?”   
“I have yet to see him prove he can lead, Warden. Your conviction that he can, is not enough. Not when he might lead your country one day,” Sten explained.

“You’re right, it’s not. Which is why he needs to prove himself _before_ taking the throne. Playing a key role in ending the Blight seems as good an opportunity as any,” I replied. Sten nodded.   
“We’ll see,” he said and sat down to sharpen his blade with a whetstone. Asher sat down next to where I was standing, pushing his head into my hand so I would pet him.

“Sten?”   
“Yes?”   
“There is more to it.”   
“I am hardly surprised.”   
“Of course you’re not. Listen, this is important. You know how human politics are… well, a giant snake-pit. Essentially. For now, there are very few people who know of Alistair’s parentage. And we need to keep it that way until after he has established himself as a leader. And to complicate things, his relationship with me could be used against him,” I began, and Sten looked at me blankly.

“From now on, Wynne, Zevran, and Leliana will be feeding the rumours surrounding us. The point of this, is to ensure we maintain an image as partners, two people who bring out the best in each other. Before Loghain realises what we are up to and has a chance to spread his own rumours about the nature of my relationship with Alistair,” I continued.

“Why does it matter what Loghain or the people think? Your Templar has royal blood, does he not?” Sten said and went back to sharpening his sword.   
“Yes, that’s where human politics get tricky. To you, it might seem like the most logical thing to do. But humans don’t think like that, not most of us anyway,” I said with a shrug.   
“They are wrong,” Sten stated flatly.   
“It doesn’t matter if we think they are wrong. A King needs support, people need to accept him. He can’t do his job properly if people think he shouldn’t be on the throne. He would be fighting to maintain it rather than actually rule his country,” I countered.   
“Humans…” Sten sighed.   
“I know, we’re weird…” I replied in a consoling tone.

“So am I to assume you will rule as your Templar’s Queen?” Sten asked, still not looking up from sharpening his sword. Straight forward as always.   
“Yes. But that is a matter for after the Blight,” I said giving him the same blunt honesty he was giving me. Sten nodded.   
“You are juggling many different goals Warden,” he said pensively.   
“I know…” I replied. Sten looked up at me.   
“How is it that you haven’t gone mad yet?” he asked with a slight smile. I laughed and shrugged.

“I’m not entirely sure that I haven’t. But darkspawn don’t care if I’m sane, neither does the Archdemon,” I said with a grin. Sten returned the smile.   
“Indeed they don’t, Warden. Have you ever even fought a high dragon before?” he asked, I shook my head.   
“No. Have you?”   
“No. But it would be a great honour to fight such a beast,” he replied. I chuckled.   
“Now I’m wondering if it’s you who might be mad.” Sten smiled again.   
“So long as the Archdemon doesn’t care, neither do I,” he said.   
“Agreed. Leave it to a couple of lunatics to save Ferelden from the Blight, being sane is overrated when faced with such dreadful odds,” I replied. Sten got up.   
“Let’s go see if there is anything to eat yet. I’m hungry.” Asher barked happily and padded back to camp with us in tow.

Sten seemed to be in a better mood after our talk, he even approached Wynne to discuss her plans to spread rumours. He wanted to know which he should contradict, and which he should leave alone. Wynne seemed happy to explain this to him, and Leliana and Zevran soon joined in. I leaned back against Alistair’s chest while watching them.

“What did you say to him now?” he asked me quietly.   
“I just reminded him that I haven’t forgotten about the search for his sword. And that I would track down Faryn with him in Orzammar since you are taking the lead on the treaty,” I whispered back.   
“I see… What did he say about that? Me taking the lead on the treaty?” Alistair asked while looking at Sten who was trying to comprehend the subtlety of manipulation as explained by Leliana.   
“He thinks it is a good way for you to prove you can lead, actually. He does believe that you can, but you have yet to show it to him. He’s still Qunari,” I whispered back. Alistair put his arm around me.

“So why is he conspiring with the others about the rumours they are going to spread?”   
“Because I explained to him why that is important. And he understood. I think he has more respect for you than he is letting on.”   
“Really?” Alistair replied, “didn’t see that one coming.”   
“It’s a Qunari thing, I think. You probably earned it through your skill in battle,” I replied.   
“He’s opening up to you, isn’t he?” Alistair asked after kissing my cheek.   
“In his own way,” I affirmed, remembering actually having a pleasant conversation with Sten.

We went to sleep soon after a modest meal of vegetable stew. Luckily this turned out to be an uneventful night, I fell asleep in Alistair’s arms and was only woken by Asher once. The dream slipped from my mind quickly and I didn’t bother dredging it up. Instead, turning my attention to Alistair, who was mumbling in his sleep. Something about cheating in a game of chess, it didn’t sound like I needed to wake him. He did that quite often, sometimes moving a hand to paw at his nose. Which I found adorable, so I planted a soft kiss on his cheek. And Asher wasn’t moving to wake him up either so I rolled onto my other side and went back to sleep.

The next time I awoke, it was because Leliana called us for our watch. Which was uneventful, we spend it as always, quietly chatting while staring into the fire.


	29. Orzammar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela and Sten find Dwyn and Orzammar is... Orzammar. Fela and Alistair get into an argument, but they fix it. With smut.

We made it to Orzammar in the early afternoon the next day. There were several merchants and surface dwarves outside the gates. Some asking around soon revealed that the city had closed its gates. The King had passed away, and until a new King was chosen, no outsiders were to enter the city. We decided to resupply before we tackled that problem since we needed to do that anyway. Alistair wanted to see if he could find out more before he went to talk to the guards at the gates.

Meanwhile, Sten and I asked around if anyone knew a merchant called Faryn. We soon located him at his stall right of the gates.

“Well met stranger, you look like the adventurous sort. I have the finest used equipment at the best prices,” a redheaded man said as we approached.   
“Are you Faryn?” I asked politely.   
“Indeed I am, best in the used equipment market, you won’t find any better,” Faryn replied courteously.

“I’m looking for a Qunari great-sword. I was told you might have what I am looking for,” I said in a friendly manner.   
“Certainly, I have several,” Faryn said and he proceeded to bring out several Qunari made swords. I looked up at Sten, who was studying the blades anxiously.

“It’s not there,” he said urgently.

“Are these all the swords you have?” I asked Faryn sharply. He jumped at my sudden change in attitude.   
“Y-yes, my Lady,” he stammered.   
“I count seven blades, you took eight from the battlefield at Calenhad. Where is the eighth?” I demanded, Faryn opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Like a fish out of the water, trying to breathe.

“I-I sold it, my Lady,” he finally stammered.   
“Ah, now that’s a problem. You see, not all eight Qunari on that battlefield were dead. This one,” I nodded towards Sten, “was alive when you came to scavenge. And it would appear it was _his_ blade you sold. I do hope, for your sake, that you remember who you sold it to. Or I might let my large friend here help you remember. The blade is rather important to him you see. To Qunari warriors, their blades are sacred. They would never willingly part with them. Neither did my friend here, which makes you a thief. Sten, my good friend, what is the punishment for theft among the Qun?” I said calmly with my hands clasped behind my back.

“I would rather show you,” Sten said menacingly.   
“Unless our friend Faryn, here, remembers the name of his customer, I think I just might let you,” I replied with a sweet smile.   
“W-wait! Please! D-don’t let him show you that, I remember the name! Dwyn! It was a dwarf by the name of Dwyn!” Faryn said quickly.

_You’ve got to be kidding me!_

I squeezed the bridge of my nose and frowned.

“Dwyn…” I said, “the dwarf I bullied into defending Redcliffe…”   
“You… you know him? That’s wonderful! So you know where to find your sword then? You’ll leave me be?” Faryn said hopefully. I shut him up with a firm gesture from my hand. Sten looked as annoyed as I felt.   
“Ok, when we head east we can take a detour and go through Redcliffe. Sound good?” I asked Sten. He didn’t look happy, not happy _at all_. But he nodded.   
“I trust your judgement, Warden,” he said and turned to Faryn.   
“Pray to your god that Dwyn has my sword, human.” And with that, he walked off to join the rest of the group. I followed him.

“You know, the punishment for losing your sword is death among Qunari,” Sten said with a sideways glance.   
“He doesn’t need to know that,” I replied with a shrug and a sly smile.

“Find anything?” Alistair asked as we joined him below the steps leading to the gates of Orzammar.   
“We’re going to have to go back to Redcliffe, it would seem. Remember Dwyn?” I replied, and Alistair nodded.

“According to the merchant, Dwyn has Sten’s sword, bought it from him a while ago,” I explained. Alistair nodded slowly, “I assume you will want to travel through Redcliffe when we head east then.”   
“I do, plus, it would be worth it to check in on the Arl when we are done here,” I replied.   
“We are going to have to get in first. Can I count on you to back me up?” Alistair asked.   
“Of course, lead on,” I said and followed Alistair up the steps.

The gatekeeper was quarrelling with group of three men bearing Loghain’s insignia.   
“By order of King Loghain, I demand you let us through!” one of them demanded, he looked like he was the leader of the bunch.

“I don’t care if you’re the Kings wiper. The gates are closed, you are not getting in until a new King has been chosen,” the dwarven gatekeeper replied in an annoyed tone.   
“ _I_ am King Loghain’s appointed messenger! By refusing me, you are refusing-” the man began but the gatekeeper cut in.   
“I didn’t let you in the first fifty times you came to bug me, and I’m not letting you in now!” The dwarf snapped. Then he turned to Alistair.

“I’m sorry stranger, I’m not to let anyone inside. I’ve been trying to explain this to Ser Dipshit over there for four days.” Alistair nodded politely and presented the gatekeeper with the treaty.

“The Grey Wardens need their traditional dwarven allies.” The dwarf took the treaty from Alistair and looked at it for a moment.   
“Well, it does bear the royal seal. That means only the assembly can address it,” the dwarf began, but he was interrupted by Loghain’s ‘appointed messenger’.   
“The Grey Wardens are traitors! They murdered our King and betrayed the people of Ferelden! I demand that you remove this… stain, upon the land of Ferelden and have him executed!” he shouted while pointing at Alistair, who patiently ignored him.

“You may enter, Warden. Though I do not know what help you will find,” the gatekeeper said while handing the treaty back to Alistair.   
“What! You would let these _traitorous_ _cretins_ into your city while refusing to receive King Loghain’s message!?” the ‘appointed messenger’ snapped in outrage.   
“Run back to your false King. The dwarves of Orzammar will not hear you today,” Alistair replied coldly.

It amused me to see the usually kind-hearted, and warm Alistair intimidate a man so effectively. The messenger cowered under his gaze and unwillingly backed away.

“King Loghain will hear of this,” the messenger said in a voice that was probably meant to be threatening but came out sounding like the obstinate rebellion of a spoiled child.   
“Good. Remind him we know what he did, while you’re at it,” Alistair replied dismissively and turned back to the gatekeeper. The messenger and his companions cowered and slunk off. I nodded to Alistair appreciatively and followed him up to the gates, and into Orzammar.

We stepped into a large hall, containing several massive statues of dwarven paragons. Alistair remarked that Paragons were like living ancestors to the dwarves, the title was not given lightly. I overheard a dwarven mother tell her daughter to be more like the Paragon Branka, the girl protested but was cut off by her mother who had noticed us, a bunch of strangers. I didn’t think much of it and followed Alistair into the commons. We were in for a bloody warm welcome.

As soon as we stepped into the commons, we saw two groups of dwarves argue with one another. Something about who should be King and who was a traitor. The argument ended with one dwarf, killing another right in the middle of the public square we were standing in. One of the guards called for them to be separated in the Diamond Quarter and the groups dispersed. Fleeing the scene.

The dwarf who had called for the groups to be separated ordered the body taken away, remarking how they should not have shown their current weakness to strangers. That would be us. I shared a look with Alistair, wondering if this was what he had been expecting or if this was another shit-show we had walked into. My gut was telling me it was the latter. Alistair approached the guard that was now barking orders at others to clean up the body.

“Stone-blind idiots, I won’t have fighting in the Commons! Especially in front of strangers,” the dwarf said sourly. I looked at Alistair, who stared at the dwarf with a raised eyebrow.

“Veata, surfacer, I am bid to let you walk the Commons. But keep your place, Warden or not, I want order,” the dwarf said with a disapproving look. Alistair nodded.   
“You’ll have no trouble from us,” Alistair replied, “we have business with the Assembly.”   
“The Assembly? Bunch of Deshyrs and Lords, bickering over sand. Bhelen, Harrowmont… is one so different? No Paragons here. But you can join the shouting, if you want. It’s up in the Diamond Quarter,” the dwarf replied bitterly and waved a hand in the Diamond Quarter’s direction.

“What’s going on with the Assembly?” Alistair asked. The cranky dwarf was more than happy to vent his frustrations.   
“King Endrin died, not three weeks ago. The Assembly has gone through a dozen votes, and _still_ hasn’t decided on a successor. It’s a disgrace to the memory of our King.” He said with a scowl.   
“These people you mentioned, Bhelen and Harrowmont, they are potential successors?” Alistair inquired. The dwarf nodded.   
“Bloody fools, both of them. They’ve caged themselves for fear of each other. As you’ve seen, keeping order among us working people is dodgy. No place for a proper Lord.” The dwarf replied scathingly.

“Bhelen speaks through his second, Vartag Gavorn, in the Assembly. Lord Harrowmont speaks through Dulin Forender, from his estate.”   
“I see… Thank you, we should be going now,” Alistair said with a polite nod.   
“Yes, you should,” the dwarf answered mockingly. Alistair ignored it.

Alistair turned toward our group.

“I think Fela and I should head for the Assembly. The rest of you can go to the inn, see what information you can find. Have a hot meal, a drink, get some supplies. Try to stay out of trouble, this city is on edge and we might be here for a couple of days.” The others nodded and moved towards an inn called Tapsters.

_Good name._

I watched our companions go and looked around.   
“Look at this place,” I said quietly.

The city was enormous, and completely underground. Entire districts were carved from the stone, rising up higher and higher along the cavern wall. Though it was so large, it could hardly be called a cavern anymore. It should have been pitch dark, but open magma flows provided more than enough light. It poured down from several crevices, pooling into a huge lake far down below. It was at a safe distance, yet it seemed to warm the entire city. It was a marvel of dwarven architecture.

“It’s quite something, isn’t it,” Alistair replied, gently putting his arm around my waist and pulling me closer. I gave him a shy smile.   
“Perhaps we should keep public displays of affection to a minimum. We kind of stand-out here,” I said while looking around. Alistair gave me a pained smile.   
“You’re probably right.” He gave me a quick kiss before removing his arm from around my waist.   
“I hate politics,” he said quietly, gazing out over the city.   
“Me too…” I replied. He turned to me with a flirtatious smile.

“Let’s go, the quicker we get to the Assembly, the quicker we get to be alone.” He said in a hushed tone. I returned his smile.   
“Lead on.”

We made our way across the Market District and to the Diamond Quarter. I made no effort at hiding how impressed I was with the architecture. The stone-work was like nothing I had ever seen. Perfectly smoothed out, and engraved with intricate patterns. The higher we got, the more impressive the architecture became. The Assembly was in session when we arrived, but the guard by the door, allowed us to go in and watch.

There was a lot of shouting indeed, even threats of violence. The Assembly seemed hopelessly divided, neither Bhelen, nor Harrowmont had the majority of support. It was dead-locked. When one member of the Assembly threatened to introduce another to his mace, the steward called for a recess. Bandelor was his name, an aged but fit looking dwarf with braids in his grey beard. After properly getting introduced, he explained to us why Orzammar couldn’t help.

The treaty we had bound the _King_ of Orzammar to aid the Grey Wardens. As it was, it had none. Until the stale-mate at the Assembly was broken, and a King was elected, Orzammar could not help us.

“So, either we interfere with dwarven politics, and put one of two men we don’t know on the throne to rule a _people_ we don’t know. Or, we cut our losses and go after the Dalish,” Alistair mused when we were outside.   
“I don’t like this,” he said with a frown.   
“I don’t like the idea of meddling in such matters either. But we _need_ Orzammar to stop the Blight. Dwarves fight the darkspawn non-stop, as far as I’m concerned, _they_ are the experts, not us. We cannot afford to forego such an ally…” I replied quietly.   
“That would mean we are taking it upon ourselves to decide the King of a nation that is not even our own,” Alistair answered.   
“Between waiting it out, and doing something about it…” I trailed off, “whatever it takes…” I finally said.

We stared at each other for a moment. Neither of us wanted anything to do with who was elected King. But we probably had the means, Leliana and Zevran were brilliant spies and manipulators. And we desperately needed Orzammar’s aid.

“We can’t make this decision, Fela. It’s not right,” Alistair replied.   
“I agree. Neither was Lothering getting overrun by darkspawn, nor Haven,” I said.   
“Desperate times, desperate measures? Is that your argument?” Alistair asked with a hard look.

“Yes, let’s flip a coin, heads we back Bhelen and tails we back Harrowmont,” I snapped sarcastically, “don’t think I am taking this lightly, I’m not. But neither can I ignore the danger that my homeland is currently in.” Alistair glared at me.   
“What right do we have?” he snapped, I shrugged.   
“I don’t know. I don’t even know if it matters. I have _no_ fucking clue, just like at Ostagar, the Circle tower, and Redcliffe. But, we were in a position to do something about the situation, and we did. Because doing nothing wasn’t an option. Should we stop doing that just because we are in different territory?” I said harshly.   
“We know next to nothing of these people,” Alistair said, “how can we make such a choice for them?”

“The Circle Tower is a mess, Ferelden is being torn apart by civil war, we don’t know if we can even _find_ the Dalish, let alone convince them to help us rather than to shoot us on sight. In the meantime, the Archdemon is marching a horde of darkspawn our way. By doing nothing, we are failing our country and our duty,” I hissed, hoping our argument wasn’t drawing attention.   
“And what if we pick the wrong man? If he turns out to be a tyrant? What if our meddling causes civil war _here_? Are you willing to take a on responsibility like that?” Alistair said angrily.   
“They are doing just fine slowly building up to civil war on their own here. If we do nothing, we are letting that happen too,” I replied with a glare. Alistair stared back at with an equally infuriated look.

“Let’s just… stop. For a moment,” Alistair finally said, holding up his hands in front of him.   
“We agree that this is not a decision to be taken lightly. But we know nothing about this prince Bhelen, or Lord Harrowmont. We don’t even know why the Assembly is as divided as it is,” he said in a calm voice. I swallowed my anger and nodded.   
“You want to gather more information first,” I said.   
“Yes. Before we decide anything at all, we should know what we are dealing with,” Alistair said.   
“Agreed. Tapsters?” I asked.   
“Sounds good,” he replied. As we made our way back to the inn, my anger faded. Alistair was right to be hesitant about getting involved in this. We needed more information.

“Do you think people will be willing to talk to outsiders?” Alistair asked as we walked.   
“I’m hoping they’ll be nicely intoxicated and chatty,” I replied.   
“We should check with the others first I think, they should be getting a feeling for the crowd by now,” Alistair continued.   
“Oh no, you and I are getting a room first,” I said matter-of-factly. Alistair gave me a surprised look.

“You want to… right after an argument?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.   
“Don’t you?” I replied.   
“Kiss and make up?” he asked with a sly smile.   
“I was thinking more along the lines of working some frustration out,” I said with a grin. Alistair’s smile turned into a frown.   
“You tend to do that with two rapiers,” he said. I winked and smiled, “not in my bed, I promise I’ll play nice. Mostly.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Alistair answered with a hungry look in his eyes.   
“I should hope so,” I answered and bit my bottom lip, smiling mischievously.   
“You need to stop giving me that look if you want the public displays of affection at a minimum,” Alistair warned.   
“What was it you said about discipline?” I asked.   
“You need more of it,” he replied.   
“And so do you, apparently. That armor must be getting uncomfortable,” I said sweetly. He gave me a playful glare.   
“You’re terrible,” he said.   
“So they say, yet it never truly seems like a complaint in that respect,” I replied. The teasing and sweet talking continued until we made it back to the inn.

“You go talk to the innkeep. I will go talk to the others, make up some excuse,” Alistair said, I nodded and made my way over to the bar.   
“Welcome to Tapsters. My name is Corra, I am your hostess, what can I get for you?” a young female dwarf said in a cheery voice.   
“A bottle of red wine and a room,” I said, putting money on the bar. Corra smiled.   
“A room for tall folk then. You’re in luck, only got one of those left,” she replied.   
“Lucky indeed,” I replied.   
“Follow me, I’ll show you to your room,” the dwarf said and led me through the inn. It was crowded, a little too much so, for my tastes. I could smell smoke, ale, sweat, and vomit. Not to mention the noise. People were having a good time in here.

“So what brings you to Orzammar?” Corra asked as she led me down a hallway lit by oil lamps.   
“The Blight,” I said, “I’m a Grey Warden.”   
“I figured as much, rumours spread quickly around here. But the Blight is on the surface, what are you doing down here in Orzammar?” Corra asked.   
“Long story,” I replied.   
“They always are,” Corra replied as she opened a door and gestured for me to go in.

“This is where you’ll be staying. If you need anything, come find me.” I thanked Corra and looked around.

The room was actually quite big, the ceilings were higher than I had expected them to be. I was pleased to see a large tub in one of the corners, and the bed was big and comfortable. I took off my armor and got a fire going. Corra dropped off a bottle of wine, handing me two glasses with a knowing smile and a wink. I returned her smile with a grin and thanked her again. Nice lady, now let’s hope she’s discrete as well as observant. Alistair came into the room not long after Corra left.

He had that same hungry look in his eyes again when he entered. Without a word he pulled me up against him and started kissing me with vigour. I reciprocated eagerly and immediately started to unfasten the straps that kept his armor in place. We let it drop to the floor piece by piece. It took far too long for my taste. But it came off eventually. And Alistair rather enjoyed my impatience.

He picked me up and I wrapped my arms and legs around him as he carried me to the bed. He dropped me down and immediately reached to unfasten my trousers and pull them off, along with my panties. Meanwhile I pulled my blouse off and got up to get to Alistair’s clothes but he pushed me down. So I grabbed hold of the front of his shirt and pulled him onto the bed with me. I wrapped my legs around him again to keep him from getting up again and pulled his shirt up over his head. I ran my fingernails over his back gently as he leaned down to kiss me. I could feel the goose bumps rise on his skin as I did so. I parted my lips when I felt Alistair’s tongue on my lower lip and he gently bit down on it.

We rolled over so I could sit on top, I pulled off the cloth that supported my breasts and Alistair’s hands immediately moved up to knead them. I pulled him up to bury his face in between them and his hands moved to my ass. I gasped when I felt his fingers dig into my flesh, hard. He bit one of my nipples at the same time. I swatted one of his hands and pressed him down again. Alistair grinned at me and threw me off to the side, got up quickly, grabbed my ankle and rolled me onto my stomach. I looked back in anticipation, usually, this was when he started fucking me.

He slapped my ass instead, I let out a pleasured yelp. Alistair gave me a sinful smile, he knew exactly what I had been expecting. I got up and turned around to unfasten his pants, he took them off for me, his smalls too. Then he grabbed me by my hair and pulled me up onto my knees to kiss him. I obeyed. Pouring all of my lust, and the anger I had felt earlier, into the kiss and then bit down on his lip, hard.

“Just fuck me already,” I snapped at him when he let go. Alistair grabbed my hips and turned me around again. The sudden move threw me off-balance and I got down on all fours. He grabbed firm hold of my hips again and thrust into me. I let out another pleasured yelp and looked back with a glare. Alistair slapped my ass again.

“You promised to play nice,” he said while fucking me in a hard, punishing rhythm.   
“ _Mostly,_ ” I replied defiantly. He bend over to whisper in my ear.   
“Then I won’t play nice either.”

It was exactly what I wanted to hear. I grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head and let him pull me up with him, leaning my head back to be able to kiss him. He moved _just_ right, He hit all the right spots with each thrust, overwhelming me with pleasure. I yelped once more when Alistair squeezed one of my nipples, too hard. I grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him past my shoulder, he tripped, and fell down onto the bed. I got on top of him and he immediately grabbed my hips again and slipped back inside me.

“That hurt!” I snapped as I slapped him across the face. He smirked up at me as I rode him, mercilessly.   
“Good, it was supposed to,” he said with an evil smile. I raised a hand to slap him again but he caught my wrist and pulled me down. I crashed my lips into his and bit him again. He pulled my head back by my hair and I gave him an equally evil smile as I looked down on him. I pulled my wrist free and sat back up. Alistair was now guiding my hips with his hands, thrusting himself deeper into me. I arched my back in ecstasy, then leaned forward with my hands on his shoulders. My hair fell down my shoulder as I looked down on him again.

“Fuck me like you hate me,” I sneered, and Alistair rolled us over, pinning me beneath him. He fucked me mercilessly while pinning my wrists above my head and biting down on my neck. I could feel his pleasure build with each thrust, along with mine. Alistair groaned and I cried out as the tension broke, waves of sweet release washing over me. Alistair finished right after with a grunt, his hips slowing to a halt. He kissed me again, gently this time, and let go of my wrists.

“By the Maker, Fela…” he panted into my neck, “we should have more arguments.” I chuckled at his comment and wrapped my arms and legs around him.   
“Not too violent for your taste?” I asked with a smile.   
“It was only a little violent, you’ll have to do worse than that to creep me out,” he replied.

“Promises, promises,” I whispered back. I held him until he gently untangled himself and got up to open the bottle of wine. I admired his form as he poured two glasses and walked back to the bed.

“Like what you see?” Alistair said with a grin as he handed me a glass. I smiled back at him sweetly.   
“Is that a question or an observation?” I asked and Alistair grinned wider.   
“Both, I like being told how handsome I am.”   
“Alright, you’re gorgeous,” I replied and leaned in to kiss him. Alistair chuckled.   
“Thank you, my love.” We clinked glasses and drank deeply. I set my glass on the nightstand and lay back down on the bed. Alistair did the same and wrapped his arms around me.

“Want to take a nap before we get back to work?” he chuckled.   
“Already way ahead of you,” I replied with a yawn and settled myself a little closer against him. I fell asleep within seconds.

* * *

I sat up with a shock, sucking in a sharp breath through my nose. Alistair lay beside me, looking up sleepily.

“Nightmare?” he asked while putting a hand on my arm. I nodded. It had been a nerve-wrecking one, there had been some sort of terrified anticipation. I wasn’t sure if I had been running from it, or towards it. I shook it off, it didn’t matter. It was just a dream. Alistair pulled me back down and held me close, I sighed.

“It feels like an eternity ago that I could sleep without having a nightmare,” I whispered.   
“It takes its toll, doesn’t it?” Alistair asked quietly, I nodded.   
“They’ll fade eventually. The ones brought on by the Taint at least. And maybe, in time, those other nightmares too,” Alistair said soothingly.   
“You still have nightmares…” I replied hesitantly.   
“Nowhere near as many as you do. And they _did_ become less frequent in the last few months,” he said reassuringly.

“You’re very patient, you know. It can’t be easy to sleep next to someone like me, I party all night long,” I said, and Alistair burst out laughing.   
“That, you do,” he affirmed, “but believe it or not, it’s a huge improvement. And it’s not like I sleep a lot by myself.” I chuckled.   
“I suppose not… Still though, thank you.” Alistair kissed my forehead before replying.   
“It’s my pleasure, really,” he chuckled.

We made it out of bed eventually, washed up, got dressed, and went back down to the common room. The inn seemed just as crowded as it had been when we walked in, though I had no idea how much time had passed since then. We met with Leliana first. So far, she had been able to find some information about Bhelen. There were rumours that he was involved with the death of one brother and framed the other for the murder. Thus getting rid of his two older brothers so he would be first in line for the throne. General opinion of him was strongly divided. Some claimed he was a power-hungry traitor and a murderer. Others called him progressive, a natural leader, and a revolutionist. A lot of it seemed to revolve around his plans to allow the casteless to work the mines or join the army, and his plans to push for more trade with the surface.

Wynne told us that supporters of Harrowmont however, claimed that King Endrin made him swear that Bhelen would not be his successor. Harrowmont was a general, and an advisor to the late King. He was a more traditional man, but there seemed to be very little dirt on him. Though one might wonder what King Endrin’s last words truly were. And more so why so many were willing to listen, about half the assembly, from what we gathered. Zevran gave us about the same information, which I considered a good thing regarding its reliability. He also informed us of the Shaperate, and the Proving.

The Shaperate maintained a perpetual recording of events in Orzammar. While the Proving was a basically a tournament that was taken a little too seriously. Just a _touch,_ really. And to our surprise, even Sten had been trying to gather some information. He had been interested in the caste system as it was somewhat similar to how Qunari divided their people into certain classes. It made sense to him. I couldn’t help but notice how the caste system stood in the way of progress. The casteless weren’t allowed to work in the city, dooming them to a life of crime or begging.

They were simply not given any other choice. They weren’t even considered real people. Could you really expect them to lay down and die, rather than doing whatever it took to survive? Sten didn’t really see it that way of course, but he got us the information nonetheless. It seemed valuable to me.

Alistair eventually decided it was time to go talk to both prince Bhelen and Lord Harrowmont. Leliana and Zevran would explore the city, taking Asher with them. Meanwhile, Wynne and Shale would head for the Shaperate. Sten and Morrigan would remain at the inn and keep an ear to the ground. Alistair and I went to Harrowmont’s estate first, where we met Dulin Forender.

“I heard there were Grey Wardens here,” Dulin said with a slight bow as we approached, “I am Dulin Forender, second to Lord Pyral Harrowmont, King Endrin’s own choice as successor. Word is spreading that the surface may suffer a Blight. It is shameful we are not in a better position to help.” Alistair nodded and shook Dulin’s hand.   
“My name is Alistair, this is Fela,” he said while gesturing towards me, “we would speak with Lord Harrowmont,” Alistair continued.   
“Under normal circumstances, Lord Harrowmont himself would be here to bid you welcome. However, Lord Harrowmont cannot ignore Bhelen today. He cannot afford to meet with anyone of unproven loyalty, there have been more than one assassin already,” Dulin said apologetically. Alistair nodded.   
“We saw your encounter with him in the commons earlier today, I believe. One of Bhelen’s men killed one of yours.”   
“Thank you for understanding,” Dulin said, bowing his head.   
“I do however, wish to speak with Lord Harrowmont. Tell me, how would I prove that I’m not working for Bhelen?” Alistair asked.   
“If you wish to show you have no loyalty for Bhelen, then work against him in Harrowmont’s name. Bhelen is hosting a Proving today, supposedly to honour his father’s memory. The Deshyrs take it very seriously. And unfortunately, Bhelen has found some way to blackmail or intimidate House Harrowmont’s best fighters into stepping down,” Dulin replied.

“So you’d like us to enter the Proving in Harrowmont’s name?” Alistair asked with a raised eyebrow.   
“It would certainly make your loyalties loud and clear,” Dulin said, “Bhelen would never work with anyone who humiliated him in that way. Harrowmont would have no fear of meeting with you then.” 

I looked at Alistair, Dulin wasn’t asking us just to prove we weren’t working for Bhelen, he was also asking us to prove our loyalty to Harrowmont. Perhaps he was counting on our ignorance regarding the Proving, that we’d think it was _just_ a tournament. But to the dwarves, it was much more, they believed that whoever won was favoured by the Ancestors. Another thing I felt they were taking a little too seriously.

A teeny tiny bit, not insanely so _at all._

I felt like Dulin was trying to use us as pawns, and I didn’t like it. The whole point of talking to these people was finding a way to help Orzammar so the city could aid us against a Blight. Dulin was now asking us to take sides, something we _didn’t_ want to do, yet. Alistair and I shared a glance before he replied.

“Let me put this in perspective for you. We have come to this city looking for aid against the Blight. The treaty we bring, however, cannot be fulfilled without a King. We are outsiders, we know little of dwarven politics, it would be easy to play us. We have absolutely no idea who should be King, we don’t even believe we should meddle in these things. We only _just_ came to this city. You ask us to prove our loyalty to one man, and denounce another, we have never even met either of them. If I am going to be sucked into Orzammar politics, I would at least want to be certain we can count on Orzammar’s aid,” Alistair said looking Dulin straight in the eyes.

Very good Alistair, if he wants something, we want something too. Don’t make any promises. This way, we have time to at least try to talk to Bhelen.

“Then I’m afraid your only choice is to wait until there’s a winner. Lord Harrowmont cannot afford to risk his life, working with someone of unproven loyalties. If you change your mind, let me know. The Proving is this afternoon and Lord Harrowmont could certainly use you at his side,” Dulin said frankly.   
“Very well, I will think about this,” Alistair said.

* * *

Alistair let out a deep sigh when we stepped outside.

“It’s never easy, is it?”   
“Not really, but you did well. You got a little more information, and you made no promises. Plus, you know what getting more information is going to cost us,” I pointed out. Alistair gave me a slight smile.   
“Thank you. Shall we go see what Vartag Gavorn has to say?” I nodded.   
“I’ll follow you lead.” We made our way to the Assembly, where we found a stern looking dwarf we assumed must be Vartag.

“Warden, welcome, it is always a blessing for Orzammar to host your order,” he said to Alistair. They shook hands.   
“I am Vartag Gavorn, top advisor to our good King Bhelen. What news do you bring?”   
“Alistair, pleasure to meet you. We bring news of a Blight on the surface, we are here looking for aid,” Alistair replied in a friendly tone.   
“Yes, the treaty. I’ve seen it in the Shapers’ libraries. Now the difficulty is that the treaty only compels our _King_ , and we are sadly lacking one of those right now,” Vartag answered.

“Yes, that seems to be the case,” Alistair replied expectantly.   
“My prince is the rightful King, but a disappointing number of Lords back the upstart, Harrowmont, for the throne,” Vartag answered in a bitter tone.   
“If you show your support for prince Bhelen, he might be able to assist with your requests.”   
“And I suppose there is no way he’ll speak to me unless I prove my loyalty?” Alistair asked with his arms crossed. Vartag nodded.

“Harrowmont has engaged in a campaign of bribery and coercion to ensure every house serves him. But if a neutral party, a stranger, were to approach certain key members, perhaps with irrefutable evidence of Harrowmont’s deception… He’s promised the same portion of his estate to two different Deshyrs, Lady Dace, and Lord Helmi. Oh, excuse me, Assembly members. ‘Deshyr’ is their formal title. Harrowmont can’t possibly grant it to both of them, but they won’t find out until after the vote is cast. I have copies of the promissory notes Harrowmont gave each of them. Once they see those, they should both reconsider their votes.”

_Straight to the point then._

“How did you get these?” Alistair asked while taking the notes from Vartag.   
“That’s not important, if they ask, you say you found them while searching the Shaper’s library for your treaty,” Vartag said dismissively. Alistair looked at the documents.   
“Why ask me to do it? Isn’t there some place to report fraud?” Alistair asked.   
“Normally, the Shapers would handle this sort of accusation. They are the scholars who manage our laws, histories, and genealogies. They are the final arbiters of any dispute in Orzammar. Unfortunately, the Shaper of Memories, the most important among them, isn’t a neutral party in this. His grandfather was Harrowmont’s aunt’s first cousin,” Vartag explained.   
“So you suspect he’ll be biased,” Alistair said while putting the documents away, “very well, I’ll see what I can do.” Vartag nodded.   
“You’ll find Lady Dace in the Diamond Quarter at her father’s estate. Lord Helmi is likely to be found down in Tapsters. And remember Warden, you didn’t get the documents from me. You found them and drew your own conclusions.” Alistair nodded at him again and lead me back outside.

“What’s your plan here?” I asked when we stepped outside. Alistair hadn’t exactly promised he would deliver the documents, but he hadn’t refused either.   
“Vartag seems to think we are idiots. So, I gave him what he expected without making any promises. Let’s go to the Shaperate, I want to know if these documents are forged,” he replied and lead the way through the Diamond Quarter. Wynne and Shale were already there. It stood huffing next to Wynne when we entered.

“You alright Shale?” I asked as we approached.   
“The dwarf attempted to buy me, _buy me!_ ” Shale said angrily, pointing a rocky finger at a dwarf who I assumed must be one of the Shapers.   
“Ah… well, I see you haven’t crushed him,” I replied while looking over my shoulder towards the dwarf.   
“It asked us to stay out of trouble,” Shale said dismissively.   
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you belong to anyone anyway, therefore, you can’t be bought,” I said with a shrug. Shale crossed its arms and pointedly looked the other way. So I followed Alistair, who was talking to the Shaper. Alistair was asking about the recording of memories. It was a lot of talk about laws, and estates, and formal documents. And if I’m honest, I stopped paying attention somewhere after the bylaws of property transfer. Wynne was buried in some biography, and Shale was stomping about impatiently. It didn’t really have the dexterity to flip pages and refused to speak to the Shaper. The only person I could think of who might have some answers for Shale. But that was its own decision.

I started wandering about the Shaperate. Briefly spoke to a young female dwarf, Orta, who was looking for proof that she was a noble. She believed herself to be a member of the Ortan family, but their Thaig had been lost to the Deep Roads. I made a mental note of that. Then I spoke to one of the Shaper’s assistants, apparently, a tome had been stolen. Presumably by a casteless, they could be easily identified by their brands. This guy had apparently had his on the side of his face. I was absorbed by a biography of King Endrin when Alistair came to find me.

“The documents are definitely forged,” he said with a sigh as he sat down next to me.   
“You sound disappointed,” I said as I closed the book I had been reading.   
“I am disappointed with our options,” he replied, “we either pick a side, or we do nothing and wait.”

“I’ve been thinking, and no matter how I look at it, both parties are trying to use us as pawns,” I said while leaning back in my chair.   
“And?” Alistair asked.   
“And, I think we should extend them the same courtesy,” I said pensively.   
“What do you mean?”   
“They’ve made themselves clear, they will only aid us if we pledge our loyalty. Either one of them supposedly wants to help, if their seconds are to be believed, the only condition is that they have our loyalty. But once we pick a side, we’d better choose the winning one, or it could cost us Orzammar’s aid entirely, or so it would seem…” I explained.

“You are not making things look any better,” Alistair said with a frown.

“Bear with me, both Bhelen and Harrowmont have to be aware of the position they are putting us in. They are practically using that treaty to blackmail us into helping one of them become King, and they know it,” I continued.   
“So?” Alistair asked with an even deeper frown.   
“So, they are both desperate,” I said.

“I still don’t see what you are getting at,” Alistair said impatiently.   
“I am starting to think that our voices could actually tip the scales, that gives _us_ the powerful position, not them. They need us as much as we need them,” I said.   
“Are you suggesting we play both sides?” Alistair replied pensively.   
“No, that would be too risky. I bet they both have people keeping an eye on us,” I replied.   
“Picking a guy who would make the best King is next to impossible, there are just too many variables involved. There is no way to predict what will happen when either one takes the throne,” Alistair said.   
“Exactly, but if we make an allegiance,” I began.   
“We might still have some control over what happens,” Alistair finished. 

“It’s up to you really, what do you want to do?” I asked. Alistair paused for a moment.   
“What I _want_ to do… is leave this whole mess behind and take you someplace warm.” I smiled at him fondly.   
“If only.”   
“But what I _need_ to do, is ensure the treaty is honoured,” Alistair continued.   
“How far are you willing to go to ensure this?” I asked hesitantly. Alistair sighed.   
“As far as I need to. But that raises another question.”   
“Who do we side with?”   
“Exactly,” Alistair said while crossing his arms, “we’ve already established that there is no way we can be sure who is the best choice. And if we are looking to make an allegiance, perhaps we should be looking at their political agendas.” I nodded.   
“I’ve been digging,” I said as I leafed through the biography of King Endrin, “Harrowmont is a traditionalist, likes to keep things the way they are. Bhelen, however, is much more progressive. He is pushing for more trade with the surface, and wants to allow the casteless more rights. Such as allowing them to join the army.”

“In terms of an allegiance, that makes him the more attractive choice. But we cannot ignore the things he did or may have done to get to where he is now, blackmail, intimidation, murder, fraud. Whereas Harrowmont seems to be a more honourable man,” Alistair mused.   
“You would be amazed at how much politics rely on these things,” I said quietly, “we may judge Bhelen now, but if we take a hard look at ourselves, we aren’t much better for what we are planning to do to Loghain.”   
“Though we don’t forge documents and frame people for murders we have committed,” Alistair said sternly.

“True, but honestly, if I had to, I would. Because Loghain represents everything that’s wrong with Ferelden right now, and it might end up destroyed because of him,” I replied with a sigh, “we may not see ourselves as bad people, but if you look purely at the number of our kills… and there _will_ be more.”   
“Alright, I see your point…” Alistair said while staring at the table in front of him, “it brings us back to why we need to speak to these people. But they won’t let us.”   
“Not if we don’t pick a side,” I said, “I think Harrowmont is definitely the more honourable of the two. But Bhelen has some very interesting views.”   
“Getting him to talk to us, means we have to falsely incriminate Harrowmont. And I don’t want to cross that line,” Alistair said apologetically.   
“Then we don’t. But does that mean you don’t want to do anything at all, or does it mean you want to do what Dulin asked?” I replied frankly.

“Let’s honour Dulin’s request,” Alistair finally said, and he looked at me expectantly.

“Alright,” I said with a nod, “so what do you want to do next?” Alistair remained quiet for a moment, holding my gaze.   
“I expected you to want to talk to Bhelen,” he finally said. I shrugged, “I do, but like you said, I’m not about to falsely incriminate Harrowmont. Especially since it would destroy any chance we have of speaking to him. Both parties are manipulating us into burning a bridge, but one requires a temporary lapse in moral judgement and the other does not. And I _did_ put you in charge, so I’m going to trust your judgement and follow your lead.”

“So how did we end up getting into an argument earlier?” Alistair asked with a raised eyebrow.   
“You kind of set me off with that comment about desperate times, desperate measures. It escalated from there I think…” I said with a shy smile. I hadn’t been very… diplomatic. Alistair returned my smile.   
“Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to mock you.” “I’m sorry too, I lost my temper a bit,” I replied. Alistair carefully reached for my hand across the table, “you should lose your temper more often, considering what happened next.” I gave him a cheeky smile, “let’s go find Dulin then, before we get distracted again.”

Dulin wasn’t at Harrowmont’s estate, a serving girl informed us that we would find him at Tapsters. And sure enough, we found him sitting in the back of the common room, nursing a mug of ale.

“Wardens,” he said, “how can I help?”   
“Mind if we sit?” Alistair asked and Dulin motioned for us to sit down.   
“I am going to be honest with you, after leaving Harrowmont’s estate, we went to speak to Vartag Gavorn,” Alistair began, the look on Dulin’s face immediately soured.

“And now you are speaking to me again,” he said slowly. Alistair nodded and presented the documents Vartag had given us.   
“Vartag wanted us to deliver these, to Lady Dace and Lord Helmi.” Dulin looked over the documents, his expression turned from sour, to outraged.   
“And? Did you?” he demanded.   
“No,” Alistair said, “we already know these are false, we took them to the Shaperate to see if they were legitimate.”   
“And now you bring them here, this is valuable information, Warden,” Dulin said with an appreciative nod.

“We’ve come to let you know we’ve changed our minds, we will enter the Proving in Harrowmont’s name, _and_ see what we can do to convince the men who stepped down to change their minds,” Alistair said. Dulin told us the names of the retreated fighters and where to find them. Baizyl Harrowmont, and Gwiddon. Alistair nodded and stood.

“Very good Warden, I will see you at the Proving grounds, with the Commander of the Grey Wardens fighting on our side, the Ancestors will smile upon us,” Dulin said and raised his mug at us. We left him to his ale.


	30. The Proving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The proving, and smut. Telling you more feels like spoiling it. <3

I smiled at Alistair’s confidence as we made our way over to Sten and Morrigan, to inform them of our next move. We told them to inform the others when they returned and send them to the Proving grounds. We went back to the room to put on armor and strap on our weapons, then went back to the common room. Sten wanted to come along, I suppose the Proving was his kind of party. Morrigan conceded to remain behind and the three of us left.

“Will you let me participate in this Proving?” Sten asked Alistair as we walked across the bridge leading to the Proving grounds.   
“We are doing this to make an allegiance with Lord Harrowmont, so Fela and I will participate. But if there is an opportunity, it’s yours,” Alistair said.   
“Does it make sense to risk both Grey Wardens at once?” Sten asked brusquely.

_T_ _hat_ _dick!_

“Good point, actually,” Alistair said while looking at me.  
“Oh no, don’t you do that, Alistair. We’re both at risk all the time,” I said with a sharp look.   
“You’ve never been in a tournament before, have you? You even prefer to train in privacy. You’re going to have a huge audience there,” Alistair warned.   
“And what makes you think I cannot perform in front of an audience? Remember who I am,” I replied with a glare towards Sten.   
“It’s different when you are fighting in front of a crowd, and they will all be watching you, some will scream for your blood. How will you respond to that?” Alistair asked with his hands raised.

_Oh, that was a low blow_. I stopped walking.

“Alistair, you are really touching the _wrong_ nerve here. You are _not_ forbidding me to enter the Proving, even if I have to kick your ass myself! Who do you think you are!?” I snapped at him, he had triggered a flood of ancient rage. He should know better than to think of me as unable, weak, or fragile. My needle had hit the red-zone faster than even I had expected. Probably because it was coming from him.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Alistair said apologetically, it only made me angrier.   
“Little late for that now, you were there for the last hundred-fifty kills or so. Honestly, I’ve stopped counting. What makes you think I cannot take on any dwarf in this Goddamn city, hmm? Whatever happened to me not being meant to be in the shadows? Why do you want me on the side-line!?” I demanded, spitting the words like fire. Alistair raised his hands defensively.

“Alright, alright, sheez. I mean well.”   
“Oh, I’m sure you _just_ mean well,” I snarled, “answer the question.”   
“Fine, I’m not sure if you’re suited for this kind of thing,” Alistair said provocatively.   
“ _Fuck_ _you_ , Alistair Theirin,” I hissed, “you don’t know shit about what I am suited for.”   
“Fine, prove it to me,” Alistair said, a little smug.

Realization washed over me. He was making me mad on purpose, feeding my determination.

“You rat bastard, you’re playing me,” I growled as I pushed past him and entered the Proving grounds.

I stepped into a large hall, the ceiling was supported by huge pillars decorated with banners, weapons, and intricate engravings. People milled about excitedly, some were buying snacks off a vendor. I looked around, the fighters were easily distinguished from the spectators. It was easy to tell by the armor, weapons, and scars. Some bore some Lord’s sigil, making it easy for me to locate Baizyl Harrowmont. I left Alistair and Sten behind, and I couldn’t care less how they felt about that.

“I heard there was a Grey Warden in Orzammar, you’ve found the right place for entertainment,” he said when he saw me approaching.   
“Are you Baizyl?” I asked and the dwarf nodded.   
“I’m Fela,” I said as I shook his hand.   
“A pleasure, what can I do for you?” he asked courtly.

“I understand you have retreated for today’s Proving,” I inquired. His face grew hard.   
“Look, I’ll tell you the same thing I told Dulin. I’m not fighting today, end of story,” he said and crossed his arms. I cocked my head.   
“Why though? You realise that your retreat affects Lord Harrowmont greatly. You’re one of his best, why would you back out on an important Proving such as this? Bhelen is hosting this Proving to make the Assembly think the ancestors favour him as King. If you’re loyal to Harrowmont, you had better have a Goddamn good reason to abandon your Lord in this fight.” Baizyl grew pale as I spoke.

“You are well informed, for a surfacer,” he said slowly. I nodded.   
“So what do they have on you?” I asked bluntly, Baizyl remained quiet.   
“Look, whatever they have threatened you with, don’t kid yourself into thinking it will all go away after today’s Proving,” I said flatly, “they’ll keep this hanging over your head, you belong to them now. So why don’t you tell me what it is they have on you, and I’ll go take care of it. What have you got to lose at this point?”

I watched Baizyl crack and spill his guts. Apparently he had been having an affair with a certain married Lady, she was also way above his station. Marvellous, really. They had been writing love letters, which he had kept, rather than destroyed. Now two of Bhelen’s fighters threatened to make the letters public if he didn’t stand down today. Lucjan and Myaja, twins who specialised in paired combat. Myaja was keeping the letters in a chest in her room, if I could retrieve them, Baizyl would enter the Proving. He pointed me in their direction, and I left to find Alistair and Sten.

I found them speaking to who I assumed must be Gwiddon. They had just convinced him that Harrowmont _wasn’t_ conceding the throne to Bhelen. This one was a little easily impressed I guessed. Alistair easily convinced him to enter the Proving after all.

“You two, I need you to distract a couple of fighters in the south wing,” I said coldly.   
“Why?” Alistair asked with a frown.   
“Because they are blackmailing Baizyl with love letters from his mistress, I need to get into their room to retrieve them,” I explained with an icy look.   
“Alright, what do you need us to do?” Alistair asked.   
“Pretend to be fans, pick a fight, get into a scuffle, whatever keeps them busy. Just keep them from watching that door for ten minutes, I’ll do the rest,” I said and turned towards the south wing.

I spotted the twins almost as soon as we entered the south wing, and I immediately disliked them. They were boasting about their prowess, and many were listening. I nudged Alistair and nodded in their direction. He and Sten soon approached while I made my way to the door Baizyl had indicated. I leaned back into a wall, waiting for the commotion to start.

“You, draw your weapon,” I heard Sten say in his harsh monotone voice.   
“Who the hell are you?” I heard a woman reply.   
“You claim to be great warriors, but how can this be? You are little people,” Sten replied.   
“ _Little!?_ ” I heard the dwarf reply, and soon they were yelling and brawling.

I snuck towards the door and got out my lockpicks. Sneaking while standing a good foot taller than anyone else wasn’t easy, but no one was paying attention to me, they were focused on the brawl. I picked the lock and quietly slipped inside. Baizyl had said that Myaja was keeping the letters in a chest, so I went straight for the only one in the room. The chest was locked too, but the lock was easily picked. I snatched the documents, checked if they were what I was looking for, and got out. The brawl was still going when I left the south wing to find Baizyl.

I returned his letters to him, advised him to either destroy them or keep them somewhere safer. He thanked me and hurried off to go see the Proving Master. I followed him to enter the Proving as well. Alistair and Sten joined me while Baizyl was talking to the Proving Master.

“Are you two alright?” I asked looking them over.   
“Yeah, we’re fine. You got what you needed?” Alistair replied.   
“See for yourself,” I said and gestured towards Baizyl.   
“Good job on that distraction, now you’ll likely get to kick their asses in armed combat,” I added with a satisfied scowl.

“Wardens, are you here to watch the Proving today?” the Proving Master said in a warm voice.   
“We’re here to enter it, actually, in Lord Pyral Harrowmont’s name,” Alistair said as he shook the man’s hand.   
“Wonderful, we have one more opening in the first bout, what name should I put down?” The Proving Master asked.   
“Fela Cousland, acting Commander of the Grey Wardens,” I said firmly, looking to gauge Alistair’s response. He nodded to the Proving Master, asking him to put down his name as well.

“And who will be entering the first round?” the Proving Master continued. Alistair looked at me with a strangle look.   
“Ladies first,” he replied and I raised an eyebrow. The Proving Master continued to inform us of the rules. Meanwhile, the rest of our companions joined us.

“So, you’re behaving like a proper ass. What gives?” I sneered at Alistair, ignoring the fact that our companions were right there when the Proving Master was out of ear-shot.   
“It got you mad, you’re deadlier when you’re mad,” Alistair said with a shrug.   
“Jerk,” I mumbled.   
“I know,” Alistair replied. I glared up at him.

“Well, good job, you got me pissed. Now shut the fuck up and watch me crack some skulls.” I left as soon as the bells sounded. I focussed my anger, the fact that Alistair had actually been right fuelled the fire even more. When I stepped into the arena, I felt a rush of adrenaline, a thrill. My senses sharpened, and my muscles tensed. The audience roared, and I drew my rapiers as the first opponent approached. The Proving Master announced us, I was fighting Seweryn, a warrior, and the youngest champion the Proving had ever seen. He gave me a slight bow, which I returned before we started circling each other.

Seweryn lurched, swinging his great-sword at me. I stepped back easily, avoiding the sword by a well calculated inch. He swung again, but I stepped sideways and forward to kick him square across his chest. It sent him stumbling backwards, I let him recover. And allowed him to charge me, I spun and delivered a low kick to his short legs. It tripped him and he fell flat on his face. He got up to his feet, cursing at me.

“Tall bitch! Fight me already!” he roared and charged me again.   
“Fine,” I said and knocked his blade aside, elbowed him in the face as I planted my foot behind his, and send him down on his back. The angle of the move was a little awkward with him being so much shorter, but I had my blade under his chin before he knew he had hit the ground.

“Do you yield?” I asked calmly. Looking down on the bloodied dwarf. He tapped the ground in affirmation. The Proving Master declared me the winner and announced the next round. Paired combat.

I called Alistair to my side, I was still mad at him but he was also the best choice. I gave him a stiff nod as he joined me on the battleground.

“Are we good?” he asked as the Proving Master was announcing us and our opponents.   
“Good enough, I got your back,” I replied. Myaja and Lucjan approached.

“May the Stone honour you,” Myaja said, “when you fall,” Lucjan added.   
“Sure, and may the dirt taste good, when I feed it to you,” I snarled.

They charged, they worked together marvellously, quickly separating Alistair and me. They weren’t just each taking on just one of us, they were actually taking on both of us together. It was an odd experience to attack one and be blocked by the other. So, I put more distance between Alistair and me, drawing Myaja away from Lucjan.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, your leverage on Baizyl is gone,” I taunted, I wanted to draw her attention away from Alistair so we could take them one on one.   
“So that was you!?” Myaja roared. I dodged her attack and kicked her back.   
“Yeah, it was my idea to have those idiots start a brawl with you too,” I said with a self-satisfied grin.

It had the desired effect, Myaja went into a rage as soon as she regained her balance. Completely ignoring Alistair and Lucjan. I had taken their advantage away, and while Myaja was vicious, and _crazy_ mad, I had far more reach. It wasn’t hard to keep her at a distance and let her tire herself out. I never moved more than I absolutely needed too, evading as much as I could and blocking the rest.

“I am going to cut those long legs clean off!” she screamed at me. I chuckled.   
“Sure you will, shorty.”

It infuriated Myaja even further, she slammed he axe down in a wide arch, missing me by an inch and wedging it into the stone. The time she needed to pull it out was all I needed. I kicked at her wrist, sending the axe flying. She tried to slam into me with her shield, I stepped aside causing her to miss me entirely. She was counting on resistance, when she didn’t get any, she stumbled forward. I used the moment to punch her in the back of her head, my fist protected by the guard of my rapier. It knocked her out cold. I turned to see Alistair driving Lucjan towards me. Lucjan was too focused on keeping Alistair off to notice me run towards him. I hit the back of his head with a spinning kick. He went down.

In the next bout, I faced sister Hanajan. She politely wished me the best, and I replied by stating I was honoured to fight her. This was a more polite fight. I refrained from kiting her around the battlefield and faced her head-on. She was a dual-wielder like myself, I rather enjoyed fighting her.

She was getting a feel for my responses, dealing tentative strikes and quickly moving out of my reach. She was fast, faster than I had expected her to be, considering her dwarven build. After a bit of testing and probing, the fight got more serious. Steel hit steel as we engaged one another. She brought her swords down towards each other in a shearing motion, I stepped back and knocked both blades aside with one of my rapiers, and attacked with the other. I cut her side, she gasped and quickly slammed her blades back toward me. I was forced to block as well as step back, lest she cut my upper leg. I was getting annoyed by how often my upper legs seemed to be a target. As her blades passed me, I spun and kicked her in her wounded side. She went down on one knee but kept holding me off. So I kicked at one of her elbows, rendering her hand useless and knocking one of her swords out of her hand. I blocked her remaining blade as she swung it at me and brought my other rapier up to her throat. She froze, breathing fast.

“I yield,” she panted. I lowered my blades and helped her to her feet. I hadn’t wounded her too badly, but she would need a healer. So I helped her off the battlefield.   
“I rather enjoyed that, I rarely get to fight someone with your skills.”   
“Thank you Warden, you fought honourably,” she replied as I let the healers take over from me.

I walked back to the middle of the battlefield as the Proving Master announced the next round, it was to be paired combat again. So I called on Alistair once more. We faced Wojech, a warrior, and Velanz, a rogue. They were a little like Alistair and me, but a lot shorter and hairier. I took Wojech while Alistair took Velanz. We had been sparring so much together, it made sense that I took on the warrior while he took on the rogue. Wojech could hit hard, but he was also slow and didn’t have much reach. So it wasn’t that hard to let him come at me and counter. He was heavily armored, but I found a weak spot after some prodding.

I stabbed at the muscle running from high up his neck, down to his shoulder. It was a risky move, as I could cause permanent nerve-damage to his arm or sever a major artery, but I got a clean hit. The result was that he was no longer able to lift his arm properly, it hurt too much. The cut also inflicted some psychological damage, taking a hit to a weak spot like that generally caused fear. It could have been lethal.

Indeed, Wojech felt at his wound tentatively with his other hand while backing up. I took the opportunity to disarm him, hitting his blade hard while his arm was hanging down and sending it flying. He was now left with only his shield, just like Myaja. I figured he had been watching my fight with Myaja, and took a different approach with him. I didn’t wait for him to come at me so I could counter, I went straight for him, jumping and slamming into him feet first. He wasn’t expecting me to go on the offensive as I had been letting my opponents come to me first so far. I went down with him, but I was armed, and he wasn’t.

I rolled to my knees quickly and punched him in the side of his head, knocking him out cold. I turned to see Alistair standing over Velanz, the tip of his blade against Velanz’ neck. We had won the fourth bout.

The Proving Master announced the fifth and final bout, this time, we would be facing four opponents. I called Sten and Morrigan to our side. She was excellent at crowd-control, should we need it. We stood across from Piotin Aeducan, his right hand, and two of his henchmen. Aeducan was an outspoken supporter of Bhelen and was eager to beat us down. Making a snarky comment on my evasive strategy and calling me a coward. I had heard better.

“Piotin is mine,” I growled at my companions as the Proving Master was calling out the names of the people now on the battlefield. Piotin spat at the ground and gave me a bloodthirsty look. Morrigan cast a vulnerability hex as soon as the battle started. She followed it up with a fireball, taking out one of the henchmen within seconds. I lurched at Piotin while he was distracted by the blast. I bent my knees, straightened my back, and moved my entire body behind the punch. I hit him with square in the chest with the guard of one of my swords, sending him stumbling backwards. I kicked his legs from under him and kicked at his head to knock him out.

I hoped I had humiliated him by not even bothering to use my rapers.

Sten and Alistair had taken down their opponents too. The crowd exploded, it was like nothing I had ever seen. They went absolutely wild at the excitement of having a few strangers step in and beat down their most notorious fighters. Harrowmont should be pleased.

I took in the applause and admiration from the crowd. It felt fantastic. I felt invincible for a short moment in my euphoria, I hadn’t taken a single hit.

* * *

I slipped away as people came to congratulate us, and miraculously made it back to Tapsters without attracting more attention.

I asked Corra for a bath to be drawn. She explained to me that the tub had working faucets, using some ingenious dwarven technology. The water coming out of the faucets was hot, heated by the earth’s own fire, and I let it fill the tub while I took off my armor and my clothes. I washed the sweat and dust from my body, taking my time to enjoy the hot water. I was leaning back in the tub, slowly losing myself in thought, when Alistair came in.

“There you are, should have known you would look for the comfort of solitude,” he said as he closed the door behind him.   
“You,” I said pointing at Alistair from the tub, “have some nerve to just waltz in here after the way you spoke to me.”   
“I know, I’m sorry,” he said as he started to take off his armor, “I antagonised you, knowing full well it would set you off.”   
“ _And_ you manipulated me,” I said slowly. Alistair sighed.   
“I did.”   
“And you did it because you know my rage often drives me, to give me something to focus on,” I continued.   
“Yes,” Alistair said with a nod, “because I was genuinely afraid you would get hurt. These were skilled fighters, and you didn’t exactly have very solid motivations, _they_ _did_.”   
“You exploited a trigger, manipulated me, because you thought I needed proper motivation,” I said icily.   
“Come on Fela, you know I trust in your skill. This had nothing to do with prejudice or gender. I just meant to give you an edge and it got out of hand,” Alistair replied.

“You are missing the point,” I snapped, “don’t ever play me like that again. The fact that you were right doesn’t allow you to manipulate me like you did. You played with my emotions, carelessly. You don’t do that to the people you love.” He paused, studying me with his warm hazel eyes.   
“You’re right. I crossed a line, I’m sorry,” Alistair said after a brief silence My demeanour softened a bit.   
“Thank you.”

“Can I make it up to you by seeing to your every comfort this evening?” he asked suggestively. I smiled.   
“Just get in the tub with me.”

I watched him take his clothes off and scooted forward so he could sit behind me in the tub. I leaned back into his chest and let him wrap his arms around me.

“The anger _did_ help,” I admitted as we settled back in the warm water, “and that pissed me off even more.” Alistair chuckled.   
“For a moment, I thought you would slap me across the face again.”   
“Not during an actual argument, no,” I replied. Alistair moved my hair back and gently kissed my neck. I smiled and shivered under his touch as one of his hands slowly moved down my stomach.   
“Just during angry sex, then?” he whispered in my ear.   
“Or sparring,” I added.

His hand continued along the curve of my hip before moving to my thigh. He gently stroked it, all the while continuing kissing my neck. Meanwhile, his other hand started kneading one of my breasts. I felt him grow hard against the small of my back, and gasped when his fingers found my most sensitive spot. I felt his tongue run along the edge of my ear next. I gripped Alistair’s upper legs as he gently started to rub me. I lay back in his arms while he drew tantalizingly slow circles with his fingers. He nipped at my earlobe and tightened his grip on me a little, letting me know he was in control.

I quietly started moaning as he moved, gripping Alistair’s legs tighter. I turned my head back to be able to kiss him. I felt his tongue move across my lips and parted them to meet his tongue with mine. He gripped me even tighter while moving his fingers to the centre of the circle he had been drawing. I moaned into his mouth as he send shivers of pleasure through my body. He stopped to move his hands just above the small of my back and lift me up a bit. I moaned again as he pushed himself inside from below and put my arms on the edges of the tub to steady myself. I lay on top of Alistair while he slowly started thrusting upward and moved one of his arms around my waist to hold me. With the other, he moved his hand slowly back between my legs and continued to rub me. I arched my back out of sheer pleasure and moaned louder. He chuckled into my ear.

"I love how sensitive you are," he whispered, "such an eager little thing." I replied with another moan, unable to form any coherent sentence at the moment. The closest thing to a coherent thought I could currently muster was 'please don't stop.' But speaking it out loud was quite another matter. He kept drawing his circles mercilessly, making me tremble an shake as he fucked me into a mewling mess. Alistair’s movements became more forceful at the slowest possible pace. It drove me mad, and he knew it.

I wrestled myself free from his grasp, and turned around to straddle him, sending water over the edge of the tub. Alistair grabbed hold of my hips as I started riding him. I put my hands around his neck to cup his head and leaned forward to kiss him, teasing him with my teeth. He moved his hips along with mine and we splashed more water over the edge. Alistair kept a tight hold on my hips to keep me from going faster, I bit his lower lip hard in frustration. He let go of my hips to push me back and I increased our pace. He held me in front of him to hold my gaze as we worked to our climax. I dug my fingers into his shoulders as I went over the edge, waves of pleasure washed through me as I moaned in sweet release. I felt Alistair cease up as he finished, groaning loudly. He pulled me down again for a kiss and wrapped his arms around me. I smiled against his lips as we caught our breath.

I got up to dry myself off and curled up in the bed, Alistair soon followed. He snuggled up behind me.   
“I love you,” I whispered while slowly drifting off to sleep.   
“I love you too,” Alistair replied softly. He remained contently quiet, holding me close. It wasn’t long before sleep took me. I was exhausted. After all that running around, the arguments with Alistair, and the fighting, I felt like I had been awake for three days straight. I awoke a few times, of course, the nightmares were part of the deal. But I was still glad to get some sleep.

* * *

Alistair was awake and dressed, sitting on the bed next to me when I woke up.

“What are you doing out of bed?” I asked and stretched.   
“I thought you might be hungry, so I went to ask for our dinner to be brought here,” Alistair said while opening a bottle of wine and pouring two glasses. I smiled sleepily.   
“How thoughtful of you.”   
“I did say I would see to your every comfort, I am true to my word,” Alistair grinned as he handed me a glass.

We clinked glasses, “to cracking skulls,” Alistair said before taking a deep drink. I chuckled.   
“To an apology done right.”   
“And I’m not even done yet,” Alistair said, planting a kiss on my cheek before getting up to stoke up the fire, knowing I liked to bask in its heat. He moved the sofa in front of it and tossed me panties and a blouse, not bothering with pants. He already knew I wouldn't put them on anyway. I slipped them on and joined Alistair on the sofa.

“Did you run into any of the others?” I asked, they were used to me disappearing from time to time by now, but I was their go-to person when they needed something.   
“I ran into Wynne and Leliana, why?” Alistair replied.   
“How are they doing?”   
“They are enjoying the party, one person beating every single champion doesn’t happen a lot. Dulin is very pleased,” Alistair answered. I nodded.

“Good, they deserve a little distraction. I hear the dwarves are experts on parties and making merry,” I said with a grin.   
“They are,” Alistair chuckled, “it’s quite a sight to behold.”   
“Why? What are they up to?” I asked curiously.   
“Drinking, singing, dancing, brawling, and then singing and drinking some more,” Alistair laughed.   
“In that order?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.   
“Not necessarily, but some good roughhousing seems as important for bonding as sharing a good conversation around here,” Alistair replied with a smile.   
“By that logic, you are now best friends with Myaja and Lucjan,” I chuckled.   
“You know what, if we weren’t backing the man opposing their patron, I think you’d be right,” Alistair laughed.

We heard a knock on the door, Alistair opened it to let in Corra, who was carrying a _lot_ of food.   
“Champions feast,” she said with a grin and started to put in on the table next to the sofa. Alistair had moved it so it wouldn’t block the heat coming from the fire. We enjoyed a luxurious meal, cheeses, grapes, roasted meat, freshly baked bread, various fruits, steamed vegetables, and other finer dishes. Along with it came a lot of wine, _and_ some traditional dwarven ale. I didn’t try the ale, from what my companions had told me, it was more of a drunken-frenzy-potion than an alcoholic beverage. It sounded like a lot of fun, sure, but we didn’t exactly have time to go on the kind of crazy rampage most of them had described.

“So when do you want to go see Harrowmont?” I asked and popped another grape into my mouth.   
“After we have a proper rest,” Alistair said with a shrug, “the Assembly will still be dead-locked anyway. And I want to make Harrowmont wait.”   
“Why is that?” I asked curiously.   
“To make a statement. We just did him two big favours, and I’m not about to let him think we are desperate. He didn’t exactly make time for us, he made us work for it, now he’ll have to wait until we make time for him. And I promise you, with Bhelen working around the clock to eliminate him, he won’t enjoy it,” Alistair said matter-of-factly.

“Smart move,” I said, “I guarantee you he’s going to ask for another favour. If winning the Proving was enough to put him on the throne, we’d have known already.” Alistair nodded.   
“I’m counting on it, which is exactly why I want to make him wait. Let him sweat a little.” I raised my glass at Alistair in appreciation.   
“How perfectly devious of you.” I lay back against Alistair’s chest while sipping my wine and looking at the rocky ceiling.   
“Maybe we should send Sten ahead,” I said with a grin. Alistair chuckled.   
“We want him more eager to work with us, not intimidated.”   
“I was joking. But don’t underestimate the benefits of a properly intimidated Lord, it makes them very compliant,” I replied. “Right, until they see an opportunity to stab you in the back to save their skin,” Alistair countered.   
“I said _properly_ intimidated, not threatened and backed into a corner. That makes people do irrational things,” I said while still looking up at the ceiling.

“Elaborate,” Alistair said while putting his arms around me.   
“To intimidate someone properly, you need to carefully balance the degree in which they fear your power, and the degree in which they fear _you_ ,” I explained, “you don’t want to put a knife to their throats, but you want them to know there is no winning from you. At the same time, you need to keep them satisfied enough to continue working with you, rather than look for someone to replace you or take the risk of breaking free. Proper intimidation applies more to the rational mind, than emotion such as fear,” I explained, “but that’s not the route you want to take with Harrowmont. He needs to feel as if he is your equal, not your subordinate. And I don’t mean by title.” 

“And you call me devious,” Alistair said. I snickered.   
“It was a compliment, actually. Harrowmont is using us right now, and I don’t like it.”   
“Neither do I, he needs us as much as we need him. But I believe his time is running out faster than ours is.”   
“Bhelen works a lot quicker than the Archdemon, he’ll be repairing the damage we did as we speak,” I said approvingly.

“Which is exactly why making Harrowmont wait will remind him of how much he needs our help,” he said and kissed my head.   
“You do seem to enjoy making people wait,” I said while getting up and turning around to face him, “don’t you?” Alistair gave me a mischievous smile and pulled me in for a long luxurious kiss.

“I just like _your_ impatience, at the right moments.”   
“Like when I can’t get your armor off quick enough?” I asked with a flirtatious smile.   
“For example, yes,” he said and pulled me in for another kiss, “or when you practically pounce on me because you want to take control.”   
“Pounce?” I asked while imagining a cat wiggling its butt before pouncing on its prey.   
“It’s in the way you sometimes look at me when you decide to set your own course. Like when you wriggled away from me in the tub to get on top,” Alistair said with a smile.   
“Well, you keep testing my patience,” I said, returning his smile and leaning in to kiss him again. Longer this time, leaning on his chest with his arms around me, I put my head down on his shoulder when the kiss broke, smiling into his neck.

We spent the evening quietly talking. Alistair eventually went to get Asher. Who decided he wanted to spent some time as a lapdog. He’d missed me today. He later decided he wanted to sleep in the bed with us too, I let him. It was a little tight, Asher is huge, but it was actually really nice to cuddle my dog while Alistair snuggled up behind me. Before Alistair, Asher had usually slept next to me. It made it easier for him to notice the signs of nightmares. Plus, who doesn’t love a big, warm, goofy dog as the little spoon. Right now, I happened to be the middle spoon. Alistair wrapped an arm around me to scratch Asher behind his ear. I smiled to myself as I pictured what we looked like at that moment. A big scary Mabari on one side, Alistair on the other, and my small frame in between. It made me feel safe, protected, and loved. There are few more pleasant ways to fall asleep.

* * *

The next day… well, I actually had no idea how to track time down there. So I’m assuming it was the next day, we went to see Harrowmont.

We took Wynne and Leliana with us, as they were our more diplomatic companions. The rest of our companions were free to explore the city or look for ways to make some coin. Zevran actually spent the day catching nugs for a merchant, little hairless, pig-nosed, mouse-like things. Leliana remarked on their cuteness, wondering if they would make good pets. I conspired with Zevran to get her one, which she named Schmooples. Of all things… 

Meanwhile Wynne spoke to a young girl, Dagna, who wanted to join the Circle of Magi. The girl had no magical talent, but she still wished to learn. And her innate ability to resist the harmful effects of raw lyrium allowed her to work with it without too much risk of going stark raving mad. We agreed to take her request to the Circle tower if we were in that area again, and resumed our walk to Harrowmont's estate.


	31. The Carta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Fela and Alistair expected, Harrowmont has another favour to ask of them. A task the dwarves themselves have been struggling with for... who knows how long. Infiltrating the Carta hide-out and kill their leader.

When we finally made it to Harrowmont’s estate, we were greeted by his servant, who told us we could go and see him. He allowed us access to Harrowmont’s chambers, shaking my hand fervently and congratulating me on winning the Proving.

Lord Harrowmont was staring into the hearth when we approached.   
“I appreciate what you have done, Warden, and I apologize for putting one of your ranks through such trials. I am Lord Pyral Harrowmont, and I thank you for your efforts to help me preserve King Endrin’s throne,” he spoke as he turned to face towards us. Alistair shook Harrowmont’s hand.   
“Alistair, and this is Fela,” he said while gesturing to me, “my fellow Grey Warden, acting Commander, and new champion of the Proving. And these are two of our companions, Wynne and Leliana.”

We exchanged pleasantries, it was all very civil, and I got very impatient. I didn’t kick ass all day long in the Proving for idle chit-chat. Alistair noticed and soon decided to hurry things along.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to cut to the chase,” he started, interrupting some polite chatting, “you know why we are here, yes? As I understand, the only way Orzammar can honour the treaty with the Grey Wardens, is for someone to be elected King,” he finished in a business-like tone.

Harrowmont nodded.

“Indeed, that is how things are. I’ll be honest with you Warden, I never wanted the throne. My duty was to serve as King Endrin’s advisor first, and as a Deshyr in the Assembly second. You may not know the story, but Bhelen is actually the youngest of three. Endrin’s eldest, Trian, was murdered in the Deep Roads, not a year ago. His middle-son was found standing over the body, and was exiled. But I always found it suspicious that Bhelen knew _just_ where to look. Endrin loved his sons too much to voice such suspicions. But he knew Bhelen’s only interest in ruling was to further his own power,” Harrowmont explained.

He hadn’t exactly told us anything we didn’t know, but I did notice Harrowmont made no mention of Bhelen’s views on Orzammar’s society.

“We know for a fact that Bhelen doesn’t shy away from resorting to more… questionable methods,” Alistair said affirmingly.   
“You are referring to the promissory notes you received from Vartag,” Harrowmont said pensively, “tell me, what led you to speaking to Vartag and why didn’t you do as he asked?”

“Put yourself in my shoes, your country is facing a Blight, you are charged with securing treaties with several parties. And upon entering the fine city of one of these parties, you learn that it is currently dealing with a leadership crisis. There is no King, and the treaty only binds the King of Orzammar. Then, when you attempt to learn more about what is going on, you are forced to pick a side and prove your support to one of two parties. You know neither of them, and are mostly oblivious to the culture and laws of these people. The only way to get to talk to one of the two people who can help, is to prove your loyalty, which will immediately eliminate your chances of speaking with the other party. One asks you to fight in the Proving, the other asks you to deliver documents, the origins of which are unknown. So you check these documents, and find that they are forged. The choice is now between an honest, but violent, task. And an easier, but illegal, one. We picked the former,” Alistair explained with his arms crossed. Harrowmont paused for a moment.

“We haven’t exactly made things easy for you, Warden, know that I only have my people’s best interest at heart.”   
“As do I,” Alistair stated, “I’m here on behalf of Ferelden, not my own.”

Alistair and Harrowmont stared at each other intensely for a moment.

“Well then, I’m sure we can find a way to work together. I would grant you your troops, but to be able to do that, I need to be King. As things are right now, there is no sure way to get there,” Harrowmont spoke more openly now. Alistair had gotten through to him, and now that second favour was coming.

“Have you heard of a woman by the name of Jarvia?” Harrowmont asked, I looked at Leliana. She nodded.   
“She currently runs the underground,” she said.   
“Ever since Jarvia took over, crime has gotten worse and worse. Thugs even shake down people in the commons now, before, they were afraid to even leave Dust Town,” Harrowmont continued, “the people are scared, more come to the Assembly every day to demand something is done.”   
“So you want us to hunt her down and take her out,” Alistair said, crossing his arms, “and meanwhile you gain the Assembly’s trust.” Harrowmont nodded.

Sure, roll up a major crime syndicate that the city has been hunting for… I don’t know, _ever?_ We don’t have anything better to do anyway. No, the Archdemon could use a break from marching on Ferelden, we wouldn’t want it to be tired when it eats us. Harrowmont sure lacked some resources to depend on outside help this much. Or he just didn’t want to send his own men, which would leave him with fewer guards. It was a painfully transparent move, but it could work. I shared a look with Alistair, he nodded.

“What do you have on Jarvia? We’ll be needing any information you have,” I asked, “any leads, any informant or known associate. The sooner we flush her out, the better.”   
“I couldn’t agree more,” Harrowmont said, looking up at me.

He continued to explain Jarvia’s Carta had a lair under the city which could only be accessed through Dust Town. He didn’t know where the entrance was of course, or even if it had more than one. That told me Harrowmont had very little on this gang, any self-respecting gang would have at least one bolt-exit and several entrances. There would be guards, look-outs, probably traps and contingency plans for a raid. Harrowmont mentioned none of these. And the fact that the Carta was situated in Dust Town was a no-brainer. I was going to have to bribe some people to get any useful information, Harrowmont had none.

I informed Alistair of this on our way to Dust Town.

“You’re talking like you have done this sort of thing before,” he said with a raised eyebrow.   
“Let’s just say that my tendency to make friends in strange places has roots in places that go way back before the Blight. How do you think I learned how to pick locks?” I replied.   
“Another lover?” he asked with a mischievous look.   
“No, just a friend, met her when she attempted to steal my horse,” I explained and nudged Alistair’s shoulder, “just how promiscuous do you think I am?”   
“No. I didn’t mean… you’re messing with me,” he said when he noticed my smile.

“Just a little, but seriously though, this is not going to be easy. These are casteless, they’ve been mistreated by their own kind their entire life. They even branded their faces, so anyone will immediately know what they are. If they feel threatened by us, which they will, they’ll go straight for our throats. This gang has been getting bolder at an alarming rate, _that_ much was useful information out of Harrowmont, they won’t cower and run. Not now that they’ve had a taste of the power they could wield, they won’t be willing to give it up. I have a feeling that once she knows we are looking for her, she’ll find us,” I spoke quietly, no reason to let anyone hear me. I was no fan of Harrowmont, but people didn’t need to know that. We were doing this to secure his throne for him, after all.

When we made it to the edge of the Diamond Quarter, I noticed two dwarves arguing, loudly. One was a red-head, he looked like he had been drunk for at least five days, but who knows with dwarves. They have _amazing_ constitution. The other was a guard, he was throwing the red-head out of the Diamond Quarter. Probably for good reason, the fiery man was cursing at a lot of noble Lords and Ladies. Something about a woman named Branka… The Paragon? I shared a look with Wynne and Leliana. A Paragon could settle the matter of who would be King. This might be an avenue worth exploring.

We saw the angry red-headed dwarf again when we got to Tapsters, Alistair went to get our companions and see if they knew anything more about Jarvia and her Carta. Meanwhile, I made my way over to Corra.

“Who’s that?” I asked her, nodding toward the dwarf who was now telling anybody who was willing to listen that they needed to go after Branka. Of which there were very few, most people seemed to pointedly ignore him.   
“That’s Oghren,” she said, “a shame what happened to that man… truly.”   
“Tell me more,” I said with a conspiratory smile.

Corra explained he had been married to the Paragon, Branka and that he had once been a respected warrior. One of the best. He had been stripped of his rank and title when he had killed some noble’s son in a drunken fist-fight. Apparently, Oghren hadn’t taken to kindly to the boy declaring Branka had been a fool to take her entire house into the Deep Roads, and that she had gotten herself and her house killed. Branka had taken everyone but Oghren, he had remained behind and became a laughing stock as he started drinking more and more heavily. I thanked Corra for the information, and decided to talk to the man. Maybe he knew what Branka had been after, where she went. If she was alive.

“Are you Oghren?” I asked as I approached him.   
“You talking to me?” he slurred.   
“That depends, are you Oghren?” I replied.   
“Yeah? Well, who’s asking?” he slurred, narrowing his eyes at me.   
“Me, Fela Cousland of the Grey Wardens,” I explained as I took a seat at his table.   
“I know who you are,” Oghren replied suspiciously, “you’re the one that won the Proving. When I heard there were Grey Wardens in the city, I had hope you know. Pity you turned out to be like all the rest,” he finished bitterly.   
“Why bother asking me who I am then?” I said as I crossed my arms.   
“I don’t know, why are you asking me?” he replied with a shrug and belched. I sighed, he was obviously well on his way to drinking himself into a stupor.

“I heard you talk about Branka when I saw you with that guard earlier.”   
“So?” Oghren replied with motioning for another mug of ale.   
“So, I wanted to ask you if you knew anything about her that the rest of these people don’t,” I replied.   
“Yeah, you, and the rest of those sons of bitches. Well, tough luck, I’ll tell you what I told those other lackeys before you. I ain’t giving you shit. For years I’ve been asking those Lords to send people after her, it’s been _two_ years since they’ve abandoned their Paragon. If you want to know where to find her, you’ll have to go after her yourself. Which one send you? Bhelen, or Harrowmont?” Oghren glared at me.

“My, my, touchy subject,” I replied with raised eyebrows, “hit that bottle a little harder, Oghren, that’ll get her back for sure.” I moved to get up, “let me know when you are able to have a normal conversation again, maybe we can help each other out.”

I left Oghren mumbling to himself about politics and nug-lickers. Alistair should be done informing the others by now, getting useful information out of a cranky drunk could wait until later.

We decided to head into Dust Town in pairs, we would stand out enough as it was. Walking in there with the eight of us wouldn’t do us any favours if we wanted to find information. I decided to take Asher with me, I had a feeling I would have more luck doing this alone than with a heavily armed man at my side. So, I headed into Dust Town with Asher padding next to me. I think he was excited to have his mistress all to himself again for a bit.

“Like old times, huh boy?” I said while looking down at him, he gave me a low gruff.   
“We’re going to talk to some people, well, I am, you get to look intimidating.”

I was no stranger to poverty, I had seen it in Denerim, even in Highever. But Dust Town was something else entirely. This wasn’t just the beaten side of town, this was a slum. People slept in the dirt, wore rags for clothes, they looked starved, sickly, and desperate. All of them were branded. I eventually passed a dwarf with the ornate face tattoo that the assistant at the Shaperate had described, he glowered at me. I decided not to tackle that particular problem yet, better make sure I learned something before I got into a fight and scared everyone off. They wouldn’t talk to me if they saw me confronting a thief. So I lowered my eyes when I met the man’s gaze, trying to look intimidated, like he had nothing to fear from me, yet.

I continued down the dirt-road to find a square and a well. Several beggars were sitting next to it, pleading with me to give them some food or money. I wanted to, I really did, but it would never be enough. I had been cornered by beggars after giving a young girl a gold-piece once. The girl had been beaten within an inch of her life and robbed, then they had come asking me for more. That was my first real encounter with poverty, I remembered it well. There was nothing I could do here.

Eventually I was approached by a young woman, she had a severe limp.   
“What brings you to Dust Town?” she asked.   
“I can give you an honest answer, but you won’t like it,” I replied apologetically.   
“Up to no good then? You’ve come to the right place, let old Nadezda be your guide. Lots of unsavoury types around here,” she answered happily and hobbled with me across the square. I chuckled.

“What makes you think _I_ am not an unsavoury type?”   
“It’s in your bearing, you’re not here to cause anyone harm, you’re just here to cause trouble,” Nadezda said with a shrug. I looked down at her in surprise.   
“A keen observation, would you know anything about trouble?”   
“I was a look-out for the Carta once,”

 _Yeah, right, ‘once’._ No one ever suspects a cripple, right?

“Before Jarvia took over. Thank the Stone I got out before she seized control,” Nadezda replied.   
“You don’t like Jarvia then?” I asked, Nadezda shook her head.   
“No, I like her just fine. She takes care of us you know, no one else will. But she’s been expanding her business into the Commons, it’s only a matter of time before the Assembly decides the Carta needs to go. And I don’t want to be there when it happens.”   
“A wise decision, one which would be aided by the knowledge of _when_ it happens,” I replied slyly and covertly slipped Nadezda some silver pieces.   
“My thoughts exactly, you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” she replied with a nod.   
“That depends entirely on whether or not you’ll tell me how to get into her lair,” I answered. Nadezda looked at me inquisitively, probably trying to decide if I was really that stupid.

“You want to take on the Carta? Are you insane?” she asked. I shrugged.   
“Maybe. Either way, I need to get into that lair. And I suggest you get as far away from here as possible once I do. If you don’t tell me, I’ll find someone who will.”   
“I can tell you how to get in, but you’ll have to take care of the rest yourself,” she said slowly.

I slipped her a few more silver pieces and she went on to explain there were several entrances. Only one of them would be used at any given time. They were hidden in plain sight, but you’d need a fingerbone token to get in. Only members of the Carta carried those, so I’d have to find and kill one to take his fingerbone token. I thanked her and left to find Alistair.

I found him and Wynne when I got back to the Commons, they had just been about to go in. I told them what Nadezda had told me and Alistair nodded appreciatively.

“You work fast, I’m impressed,” he said. I smiled.   
“Nadezda found me, not the other way around. And I’m fairly certain she’s a look-out. Anyway, people have seen us talking. And even if Nadezda isn’t going to tell Jarvia, someone else will. Jarvia probably knows we’re coming. Most likely, she stays in that lair and sends a couple of thugs to deal with us. Which will provide us with a fingerbone.”   
“You don’t think she’ll bolt?” Alistair asked, I shook my head.

“Not immediately no, there’s a lot more of them than there is of us. She’ll feel secure enough to make a stand inside the lair, her best bet is to kill us. We can’t follow her if we’re dead.”   
“So you’re hoping she’ll be over-confident,” Alistair said.   
“That, and I’m hoping there isn’t really any place for her to run other than the Deep Roads or the surface. She’ll not leave here unless she absolutely _has_ to. Either way, Harrowmont’s problem will be solved. For the time being,” I replied.   
“It will have to do, even if we do kill Jarvia, there will be a new gang leader eventually. Harrowmont can’t blame us for that,” Wynne added. Alistair nodded.   
“Alright, let’s get the others. We shouldn’t keep Jarvia waiting so she can prepare some more.”

Wynne looked at me.   
“Good thing you’re not wounded, again.”   
“Good thing I am a total bad ass, I didn’t take a single serious hit during the Proving. You have to give me at least a little credit for that,” I replied with a shrug and a taunting smile.   
“I’ll give credit to your recklessness, risking yourself like that,” Wynne countered.   
“ _And_ _won_ , I cannot press this point hard enough. Tell me you’re not even a little proud,” I said with a taunting smile. Wynne smiled back at me.   
“Alright, fine, you did well. Just, be careful.”

I gave Wynne a more sincere smile in response, she reminded me of my mother sometimes. We had become a lot closer ever since we left Redcliffe. While she sometimes drove me mad, she _always_ had an opinion, and it was usually a little condescending, I rather liked her. She wasn’t like your average old lady, aside from the fact that she was a terrific mage. She was witty, enjoyed a challenge, and had a good sense of humour about her age. She was also brave, determined, and caring. So, for all our disagreements, I had grown rather attached to her.

We went back to Tapsters, got our companions up to speed, and went off to have ourselves an old-fashioned killing-spree. We were very good at those. Sure enough, as soon as we entered Dust Town again, people scattered and hid. Quick and efficient, like a pack of rats that smells a cat.

The Carta-members that Jarvia had send soon emerged. There were about fifteen of them, outnumbering us nearly two to one. Those odds didn’t even worry us anymore, everyone knew their part. Morrigan and Wynne were on crowd control, Leliana kept enemies away from them. Meanwhile, the rest of us would charge to disrupt the enemy’s formation and pick them off one by one in the chaos. I could tell our opponents were slightly taken aback by our nonchalant approach. It didn’t matter, the streets ran red.

I didn’t feel good about it, though they were criminals, I didn’t really blame them for the choices they made. Working with Jarvia had meant survival, up until now. I didn’t chase after the ones that dropped their weapons and ran when they saw their comrades fall. Instead, I started going through their pockets, looking for a fingerbone token. I lead my companions to the door Nadezda had pointed out to me when I found one. We left the bodies in the street, there was no time to take care of those now.

I stepped up to the door to what seemed like an old dirty hovel. I ran my fingers across its surface, looking for a slot.

_There._

It was cleverly hidden in a stone engraving, making it look like it was supposed to be there. But as I studied it, I could tell this was no ordinary piece of the carving, those don’t go that deep. I put the fingerbone token into the slot and waited. Nothing happened, I didn’t even hear any shifting mechanisms. Then again, dwarves were remarkable engineers, this was something that was supposed to be hidden. So of course it would be quiet. I pushed the door tentatively, and it swung open. I stepped inside, looking at a dwarf leaning back against a wall.

“What’s the password?” he asked in a brusque voice, not looking up from the dagger he was sharpening.   
“My swords in your gut,” I replied and immediately attacked. He looked up at me in confusion and paled as he realised who I was. Alistair ducked in after me and quickly took out two guards that were about to raise the alarm. He peered into the tunnel-like hallway to see if we had alarmed anyone else.

“I take it your friend didn’t tell you about the doorman and the password,” he remarked as I was wiping my swords clean on the dead doorman.   
“she did not,” I affirmed.   
“You think she set you up?” he asked.   
“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter now,” I replied as the rest of our companions entered the lair. Alistair motioned for Zevran and Leliana to scout ahead for any traps or enemies while we waited. Shale was particularly difficult to hide and being made of stone, sneaking wasn’t a strong suit. Shale sighed and crossed its arms as Alistair remarked as much.

“As expected,” Zevran said when Leliana and he returned, “several tripwires rigged with explosives, pressure plates, grease traps, the full package. But we should be able to disarm them if we can get in close enough without being noticed.” Alistair nodded.   
“How many guards did you see?”   
“Several groups of four, placed just a little too far away from each other. If we go in quietly we might be able to take them out group by group before Jarvia notices we are here,” Zevran replied.

“Sounds good. Take Fela and Morrigan. The rest of us will follow and jump in if needed. Until then, we’ll keep a safe distance, and leave the sneaking to you,” Alistair said decisively. We followed his orders without question, he was getting better and better at this.

The first four guards were easy to kill, as they were playing cards and not paying any attention to anything else. Morrigan froze them, Leliana disarmed the tripwire and Zevran and I crept forward to kill the frozen dwarves. We moved on to the next, Leliana guided us around the pressure plates and grease traps. She would disarm those later so Alistair and the rest wouldn’t stumble into them. But we needed to take out the guards first. Leliana and Zevran took out the first two with an arrow and a thrown dagger, both perfectly aimed. I took the remaining two from behind when they turned towards the sound of their companions dropping to the floor. Leliana and Zevran took care of the traps while Morrigan and I looked around. The room was filled with what we assumed were stolen goods, weapons, jewellery, gold, even lyrium.

I decided to take the matter of our compensation into my own hands. We did in one day what the city couldn’t do in years, we owed it nothing. And yet here we were, cleaning up its mess. I might have been born rich but ever since Howe sacked Highever, I was penniless. And traveling as much as we did, the money we had to spend on food and supplies, maintaining our weapons and armor, it was expensive. So I helped myself to a large pouch of gold coins and instructed the others to do the same, Harrowmont would never be the wiser.

We made our way to what appeared to be a prison next. Things were going well, we took out the guards and the jailor quietly. Then released a dwarf that had been imprisoned, the man had been starved and could barely stand. So I gave him a piece of the dried meat I always carried and offered him a drink from my canteen before sending him on his way. I instructed him to tell the others that Fela had sent him. They’d let him pass. The man thanked me over a thousand times before getting out of there. We continued our way through the lair, Alistair and the rest following behind us. It was huge, at one point we even found animal pens with tamed animals inside. We left them alone and ventured even deeper.

When we finally found Jarvia, she was ready and waiting, surrounded by at least fifteen more thugs.

“So, Harrowmont finally realised we are taking the city, yet he still can’t be bothered to send his own men,” she said scathingly as we entered the large room, Alistair in front, “well, you picked the wrong side, stranger. It doesn’t matter who is King in Orzammar, as long as there’s a Queen!”

I snorted at her comment. And she turned her attention from Alistair towards me, she glared at me.   
“I’m sorry,” I said with a menacing grin, “it’s just that you’re awfully cocky for someone who’s entire Carta has been wiped out in under a day.”   
“You’ll pay for their deaths a hundred times over, I promise you that,” Jarvia replied.   
“ _Damnit_ _Fela_ ,” Alistair muttered, but he didn’t get to finish his sentence. Jarvia cut in.

“Kill them! But leave the pretty one alive, I have plans for-” Jarvia herself was interrupted as Shale gleefully crushed one of Jarvia’s henchmen. Then the fighting started.

Alistair shouted for us to get to cover, Jarvia had arranged a group of archer at the back of the room. We wouldn’t be able to get to them quick enough, so it was up to Wynne, Leliana, and Morrigan to take them out. That meant we needed to keep the other enemies away from them, but that wasn’t exactly easy with arrows flying around.

Morrigan hit them with a misdirection hex to make the archers less likely to hit their targets, before hurling a series of fireballs at them. Meanwhile Wynne was providing us with aid, in terms of stamina, health, and defence. In the chaos caused by Morrigan’s fireballs, the rest of us were able to pick off a few of Jarvia’s henchmen. Jarvia had decided to make me a prime target. It wasn’t easy to fend her and her thugs off while also avoiding getting shot and attempting to kill as fast as I could. I delighted in the challenge, leaping and jumping around the room, executing evasive manoeuvres that kept them chasing me around.

“I am going to wear your pretty teeth around my wrist!” Jarvia growled as she swiped at me with one of her axes. She followed up the move with an upwards strike with the other, forcing me into a sideways roll. I moved so fast that my shoulders barely brushed the ground before I found my footing and swiped at Jarvia’s legs as I did so. I missed. Like me, she had a talent for not being where you expected her to be.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” I taunted as I blocked another of her attacks and kicked back at a thug that tried to come at me from behind. When I felt the impact, I immediately pulled my leg forward again to kick Jarvia in the chest. She stumbled back a few steps at the force, but quickly regained her stance.

Meanwhile another thug came at me from the side, I knocked his axe aside and gutted him without taking my eyes off Jarvia. I gave her a satisfied smile as she watched the thug drop to the floor. It enraged her. She came at me with a flurry of blows, but they were sloppy and I evaded them with relative ease. I let her rage grow to the point that she was howling at me, eyes wide with fury. By now, the archers had been dealt with. There was no need to keep moving as much as I did, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy infuriating Jarvia. So I kept it up, lithely leaping over crates, bodies, and even her remaining Carta members. I caused her to hit one by accident.

“You bitch! Fight me!” she screamed as she charged after me. I laughed, and kicked at a storage shelf to send it crashing down towards her.

She rolled to the side with a startled yelp, dropping one of her axes. I leapt forward to kick her beneath the chin as she got up. She staggered backwards again and I cut her across the belly. She grabbed at it and blocked one of my rapiers, the other I plunged into the narrow gap between her breastplate and her pauldron. I hit chain-mail fist, but soon heard her scream as I hit flesh. I angled the blade up and pushed it in deeper, then pulled it down with a powerful swipe. Jarvia howled as I cut through the muscle and tendons in her shoulder. She lifted her remaining axe to plunge it into my side.

I stepped in closer, instead of the head of the axe, she jammed its hilt into my side. I was surprised by how powerful the blow was, given Jarvia’s injuries. I grunted at the impact and gasped for air, realising she may have cracked one of my ribs. I brought up my knee into her wounded belly to kick her away from me. She wailed and stumbled backwards but came at me again as soon as she found her balance. She was reeling a bit, losing blood quickly. One of her arms was now useless, and she had only one axe. She threw her weight behind another swing at my side. I stepped back, her axe missing me by less than an inch.

I stabbed her in the side of her neck as her weapon passed in front of me, I had far more reach than her, she wasn’t able to block or move out of the way quick enough. The last axe dropped to the floor and Jarvia went down on her knees. I pulled the blade out, I had punctured her windpipe, and left her choking on her own blood. I turned to see Leliana shoot the last fleeing Carta member.

“You guys ok?” I asked and wiped my blades before resheathing them.   
“Yeah,” I heard Alistair call, “that escalated quickly…”   
“Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have laughed at her,” I said as I walked over to check on him. Alistair shrugged.

“It’s ok, she would have attacked anyway. It was just… really typical of you.”   
“What? Laughing at her?” I asked with raised eyebrows. Alistair gave me a knowing smile.   
“You laugh at very inappropriate moments all the time. Like when you find out we are the last remaining Wardens in Ferelden to stop the Blight. Or in the middle of a battle, like you did when Jarvia called you a bitch,” he said, “you have a very strange sense of humour.” I smiled self-consciously.   
“Well, I _am_ a bit of a weirdo. Surely you were aware of this.” Alistair put an arm around my shoulders.   
“Of course, I like them weird.” I winched a little when I felt the weight of his armored arm on my torso.

“Sorry,” Alistair said when he noticed my reaction, “are you hurt?” He looked me over inquisitively.   
“Nah, just a bruised rib, maybe cracked, but nothing serious,” I replied.   
“Does that leather armor even protect you at all?” Alistair asked with raised eyebrows.   
“Of course it does,” I said, “just not as much as metal plating does. But that would slow me down too much.”   
“You did make Jarvia chase you around a lot,” he replied.

“And wasn’t it hysterical to see her run on her short little legs?” I said mischievously. Alistair looked at me sideways, trying to suppress a smile.   
“Next you’ll be laughing at old ladies tripping and falling flat on their faces,” he said, letting his smile break through.   
“Have and would do so again,” I replied matter-of-factly. Alistair shook his head at me.   
“At least tell me you checked if she was ok?” he said, I smiled back at him sweetly.   
“Of course I did, but it was still funny as hell.”

Nothing wrong with finding humour in the least likely places right? Makes it easier to cope. I mean, two people going up against an Archdemon was still a ridiculous notion in my head, but I’d rather laugh in that dragon’s face than grow sick with worry and fear before we even meet it in battle. It made it easier to do something about it too, it felt… less futile.


	32. Down the Darkspawn Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Fela report back to Harrowmont, who still needs more of course. Oghren joins the group and guides them through the Deep Roads. They meet Ruck, who gets under Fela's skin.

Alistair and I made our way back to Harrowmont’s estate after leaving our companions at the inn. They could use a rest, hell, we could all use a rest.

Except for Shale I suppose, it never got tired, or hungry, or thirsty. It didn’t feel pain, didn’t bleed when it took a hit. Shale liked to comment on how fragile we were, soft and squishy, it liked to call us. Which, we _were_ , compared to Shale.

Anyway, Harrowmont’s steward was surprised to see us back so soon. He was also a little appalled by the fact that I was covered in blood. I had taken part in a lot more close combat than Alistair had on this… raid, yes I believe 'raid' is the right term. The result was that he was nearly clean while I looked like I had tried to bathe in blood. So, he offered me a wet towel to at least clean off my face before he took us to see Harrowmont. He sucked in a sharp breath of air through his teeth when he saw me.

“Wardens, how can I help?” he asked as we were led into his chambers, “are you alright?” he asked me while studying the stains on my armor and clothes.  
“What? Oh, yes, this isn’t mine,” I replied gesturing at the bloodstains.  
“Whose is it?” Harrowmont inquired.  
“Carta thugs mostly,” I replied absently.  
“You killed many, by the looks of it,” he replied. I nodded bitterly.  
“I did.”  
“You did the people of Orzammar a great service,” Harrowmont said respectfully.

That rubbed me the wrong way.

“Right, because casteless aren’t people. Has it ever occurred to you that forbidding people to earn a living in a decent way, directly leads to these high crime rates?” I said sharply. Alistair put a hand on my shoulder to stop me from chewing Harrowmont out.  
“Jarvia and her Carta have been dealt with, we wiped them out. You can inform the Assembly of your success,” he said calmly. Harrowmont nodded.  
“I will see to it right away and have my men clear out the bodies.”  
“Have them use this,” Alistair gave Harrowmont a fingerbone token and explained how they were used.

“Clever,” Harrowmont mused, “no wonder we weren’t able to find them for all these years. Where did you get this information?” I opened my mouth to reply but Alistair beat me to it. Probably a good thing because my reply would have involved treating a casteless as an actual person and talking to her.

“Fela bribed an ex Carta member,” he said quickly, “that got us the information we needed to get into the lair.” Harrowmont looked at me again.  
“How did you find an ex Carta member willing to talk so quickly?”

I crossed my arms. Nadezda had told me how she got her limp while she was showing me around Dust Town. Guards had broken her kneecaps and forced her to kneel in filth until the wounds had gotten infected. They never healed right.

“I can be very charming, when I want to.” Was all I had to say.

Alistair and Harrowmont exchanged the last bits of information, the matter was now transferred to Harrowmont. There was only one problem. Harrowmont needed more, we had won the Proving, we had wiped out the largest crime syndicate in the city, and he still needed more.

I didn’t know whether Bhelen was _that_ good at discrediting Harrowmont or whether Harrowmont was really that incompetent. Or at least, unwilling to do something himself. I had disliked him already, but what he was asking of us now made me truly resent him.

“Do you know of the Paragon, Branka?” Harrowmont asked. Alistair nodded.  
“The master smith, invented a clean burning fuel.”  
“Yes, a smokeless fuel that made underground forges safer than they have ever been. Two years ago, she took her entire house into the Deep Roads on a mad quest to uncover ancient secrets. No one had heard from her since. Were she to return and endorse someone for the throne, the Assembly would be honour-bound to accept her wishes,” Lord Harrowmont explained.  
“And if we were to find Branka, you think she would endorse you?” Alistair asked while rubbing the stubble on his chin.  
“It’s hard to say what she will do, she wasn’t exactly known for her predictability. She never seemed to like being a Paragon, she was devoted to her craft, never cared for politics. But one of the most brilliant minds Orzammar has seen. Branka hated darkspawn with a passion, she would certainly be a powerful voice to support your treaty,” Harrowmont said honestly.  
“And what if she’s dead?” Alistair asked, rightly so.  
“Her entire house went with her, it would take a lot to kill so many. If not, bringing proof of her death, or her body, to be returned to the Stone, would still show that as an Ancestor, she guided my hand to her remains,” Harrowmont answered. Alistair and I shared a look. I didn’t like this, and neither did he, but what other choice did we have? We couldn’t stop now and wait it out, we’d come this far, and we needed to get this done. Sooner rather than later.

“Very well, if it gets you the throne, we will find her,” Alistair finally said with a sigh. Harrowmont nodded appreciatively.  
“My men have traced Branka’s disappearance to an ancient crossroads, known as Caridin’s Cross. It’s many miles below where we normally venture, I can provide a map to lead you there. Just enter the Deep Roads, through the mines. Thank you again, and may the ancestors guide your steps.” And just like that, we were off to prepare for going into the Deep Roads. We decided to rest in Orzammar tonight, and head off to the Deep Roads in the morning. We could send Wynne and Sten to gather supplies. Meanwhile, I had Asher search out Shale. It had gone on another walk and had left the inn.

* * *

The next day came too soon, I woke up in Alistair’s embrace and almost asked for just one more day. I wasn’t looking forward to going into the Deep Roads, from what I knew, there were a _lot_ of darkspawn down there.

Which wasn’t even the biggest problem, the only food we would have, would be what we brought with us. If one of us got injured badly enough, we might not have the means to treat it. And we would travel in perpetual darkness.

I’m not afraid of the dark, on the contrary, I tend to feel safer in the dark. But knowing that they could see us while we couldn’t see them tied my stomach in a knot. We would be able to sense them, sure. But our companions wouldn’t. I hated the thought of losing one of them down there, dying in the Deep Roads… their bodies laying broken among the darkspawn while they slowly rot and decay in their corruption… That was a fate Alistair and I would likely meet, but our companions didn’t have to. And by the Maker did I wish there was some way to guarantee their safety. But last I checked, I still wasn’t omnipotent. We wouldn’t be here if I was.

I expressed my fear to Alistair, who did his best to soothe it away. Promising me we would leave no one behind, not even Morrigan, Alistair assured me. Reminding me of our strength, our experience, and of the fact that they were all here by choice. I let him comfort me, but I could tell he was afraid too. Things were bad enough on the surface, what would they be like in the place the darkspawn come from?

I made a brief stop at the Shaperate while the rest saw to traveling preparations. We gathered as much food and supplies as we could carry. I thanked Shale at least a thousand times for agreeing to carry the larger portion of the load. It shrugged and said that it didn’t expect squishy little things like us to be strong enough anyway. I thanked Shale again, this time for being very patient with our shortcomings. Because to Shale, that’s what it was doing.

What am I going to do? Argue with it that we are just as strong and nearly indestructible? Because it would be _very_ easy for Shale to prove me wrong.

Not that I thought it was going to attack us, but try competing with a massive stone golem. You’ll lose. Shale had no limiting body characteristics such as health and stamina, its body didn’t need to be nurtured like ours. It would outlast me in every single way. It was one hell of an advantage, but it was also missing a lot of body characteristics I wouldn’t want to miss. Aside from the fact that Shale had no genitals, it was appalled by the idea of sex. There was no way it could enjoy such a thing, or eating something tasty, or enjoy a nap. The feeling of someone else’s body close to my own, the way a kiss feels. The way Alistair feels.

No, I preferred a body of flesh, not stone.

As we left the Commons and we were about to enter the mines, I noticed Oghren charging towards us. He was armed, armored, and well packed. That could mean only one thing.  
“There you are,” Oghren said panting lightly, “I thought I spoke with a Grey Warden, but for some reason I chalked it up to the drink. I know you’re down here to look for Branka, and uh, I need to ask a favour.” I smiled at Oghren.  
“Go ahead,” I said, knowing full well what he was going to ask.

“Name’s Oghren, as you already know. And I guess that means you have heard about me before and it’s probably all been about how I piss ale, and kill little boys who look at me wrong,” he chuckled at his own words, “and that’s mostly true. But the part they never say is how I am the only one still trying to save our only Paragon. And if you’re looking for Branka, I’m the only one that knows what she was looking for. Which might be pretty sodding helpful in finding her.” I nodded.

“You’ve been looking for her,” I concluded, Oghren nodded back.  
“Believe me, I have. But where she was going, it’s a lost Thaig. No one has seen it in centuries. I searched as far as I could, but it would take teams of warriors, searching weeks on end to cover enough ground to hope to find it. Which is exactly what I assume Harrowmont’s scouts have done. And they give the fruits of their labour to you. But they haven’t found Branka herself, and that means that whatever they’ve got, it’s not enough if you don’t know what she was looking for. If we pool our knowledge, we stand a chance of finding Branka. Otherwise, good sodding luck,” Oghren said and looked at me expectantly.

I looked at Alistair, who nodded. Then I looked back at Oghren.

“Don’t we have enough armed lunatics following us around already?” I said with a broad smile. Oghren threw his hands into the air.  
“Perfect! What’s one more? Branka was a brilliant girl. But half the time she would add two and two and make it fifty. Heh, if you want to find her, you need someone who knows how she thinks.”  
“Welcome to our little band of misfits then,” I said and held out my hand. Oghren shook it.  
“Awesome! You ready to get going?”  
“Obviously,” I replied.

“Branka was looking for the Anvil of the Void. Might have been the most important invention in Orzammar’s history. The smith, Caridin built it. And with it, Orzammar had a hundred years of peace while it was protected by the golems forged on the Anvil. As far as anyone knows, the Anvil was built in the old Ortan Thaig. Branka planned to start looking there. If she could ever find it. All she knew was that it was past Caridin’s Cross. No one has seen that Thaig for five-hundred years,” Oghren continued to explain.

I nodded to myself, this was good. It was way more than Harrowmont had been able to figure out, and Oghren had already searched for Branka in the Deep Roads. With the map and Oghren’s guidance, we might stand a chance of finding her before our supplies ran out.

“Great, let’s go then,” I said and turned to my companions.

“Guys, meet Oghren. Oghren, these are Alistair, Sten, Leliana, Wynne, Zevran, Morrigan, Shale, and Asher,” I said as I pointed from one to the other.  
“Am I going to have to carry its bags too?” Shale asked with a sigh.  
“If you’re offering,” I replied with a shrug. Shale motioned for Oghren to hand it his packs. Oghren looked Shale up and down.  
“You’re not like any golems I’ve ever heard of,” he said brusquely.

“What?” Shale asked defiantly, “should I talk in a monotonous voice? Respond only with ‘yes master’ and follow it around like a mindless tool?”  
“Whatever, I don’t care,” Oghren replied with a shrug.

I chuckled at the encounter. Oghren was quite a character, to put it lightly. And so was Shale. Actually, so were all of our companions. We sure picked some of the Maker’s finest with this lot. I cared for them though, a great deal. And Oghren seemed like an alright bloke, one to speak his mind. I rather appreciated blunt honesty, it made things so much easier at times. At other times it was insanely frustrating of course, but it was helpful more often than it wasn't.

We approached the guards at the entrance to the Deep Roads. Their leader responded a bit surprised when he saw us.

“Humans?” he said and looked back over his shoulder at his comrades, “did we make these tunnels tall enough for humans?” I chuckled, looking up at Shale who was far larger than any of us, even Sten. Alistair presented the man with the documents Harrowmont had given us.  
“Ah, Grey Wardens,” he said as he read the documents, “that makes sense,” he folded the documents and handed them back to Alistair, “I don’t know what you’re hoping to find… but, I wish you the best of luck. Return to us safely,” he said solemnly and ordered the guards to let us through.

I nodded at the dwarf respectfully as I passed. It was kind of nice to hear the short hairy man say that, even if he is a total stranger to me. But I assumed he knew what it’s like, and probably knew how we felt at that particular moment.

I took my mind off it by badgering Shale about its past.  
“Didn’t you mention that you recall being in Cadash Thaig a while back?” I asked innocently. Shale displayed a movement I can only interpret as the result of being startled by my question.  
“It remembers…”  
“Sure I remember, you didn’t think I would pester you with all those questions only to forget barely a week later?” I replied.

I tried hard to read Shale, but that isn’t particularly easy with a statue. People rarely ever feel a single emotion. Usually they are feeling a whole lot of different things at the same time, some just happen to be more present than others but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. No, if you watch closely enough, you’ll see that an emotional state is made up of a multitude of emotions all in different degrees of intensity. The problem with Shale, is that it’s easy to miss something. Right now I could tell that it was surprised, but it may also have been exited, afraid, sad, angry, embarrassed, or any possible combination of those and more. Shale was animated stone, not flesh, and stone doesn’t exactly have the same consistency as flesh.

Meaning a frown or smile from Shale looked very different from a different, person. One made of flesh and bone, that is. At least, if you watched closely enough. And it was the first golem I ever met, I had absolutely no reference. It’s not easy to read Shale’s state of mind. It remained quiet, so I pushed further.

“Have you recognised anything? Maybe remembered something?” Shale shook its head.  
“Why does it ask?”  
“I’ve been thinking about what it’s like for you, not knowing where you are from. And I thought, maybe you would want to. You’re free now right? How can you decide where to go from here, what to do with yourself, if you don't know who you are or where you're from.” I explained.  
“I thought my decision to follow it was enough?” Shale replied in what I think was an uncertain tone.  
“For me? Sure. But is it enough for you?” I asked. Shale remained quiet again. I could nudge it some more.

“Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do here. But if one of my other companions had no memory of where they came from, of what makes them who they are, I would ask them the same question. I ask it because I am concerned for you. I tried putting myself in your shoes and found that I felt completely rudderless,” I tried to explain it gently.

Shale had only been able to watch people for the last decades and before that it was treated like nothing but a tool. It didn’t do its social skills much good.

“Why it tries to relate to me is beyond me,” Shale replied. I shrugged.  
“Get used to it.” Then I pulled a copy of the map Harrowmont gave us from my pocket.

I had gone to the Shaperate earlier that day to compare Harrowmont’s map with the maps of the Deep Roads that the Shaperate currently possessed. Turns out, Harrowmont’s map only showed us what we needed to know to get to Caridin’s Cross. So I traced the missing pieces from a more extensive one, completing our map. Though in this context, ‘complete’ means as complete as the dwarves can currently manage. There is still a lot of unexplored territory. I showed the map, with my additions, to Shale.

“I don’t know where Cadash Thaig is, as the dwarves haven’t added it to the current maps. But I want you to take a look,” I said honesty, carefully studying the golem as it took the map from me to have a better look.

I tried to read its stone face, watching its eyes trace over the map I drew. Looking for some hint of recognition. There was none. Shale shook its head and handed the map back to me.

“Well… if anything surfaces, let me know,” I said as I folded the map and put it back in my pocket.  
“Why would it do this for me?” Shale asked slowly.  
“I have a knack for relating to other people, you’re somewhat of a challenge, I admit, but the fact is, I kind of like you. And I feel the inexplicable urge to help you find out more about your past. Maybe undo some of the damage done by my fellow squishy, flesh creatures. I’m also curious and I want to know more about you. But mostly I just want to give back some of what you lost. Call me a softie, I am soft in more ways than one, as you aptly pointed out on several occasions. I was just hoping to do something nice for you, Maker knows no one has in a long time,” I said with a shrug and an honest smile.

Shale stopped walking for a moment, causing Oghren to nearly bump into it.

“Oi! You dumb rock, watch what you’re doing!” he slurred. Shale ignored him and stared at me, until finally it managed to utter a single three-word sentence.

“It is kind.” Then Shale simply resumed walking, ending the conversation. I watched Shale for a while after that, as far as I could tell, it was brooding. Or at least it looked like the golem-equivalent of a brooding posture. I decided to leave it alone for now.

I was starting to have some suspicions on how golems were made. Shale was sentient, self-aware, it could _feel_. Though it had a body of stone, it was _alive_. Just not hindered by the bodily functions and limits the rest of us had to live with. It also missed a lot of the fun ones but it seemed fine with that. So, if it’s alive, has a fully working mind complete with free will, where did that mind come from?

Surely stone isn’t known to develop such properties on its own. And Oghren mentioned the Anvil was once used to create golems. Now, I’m no smith, but I found it hard to believe that if you beat a piece of stone long enough with a hammer, it’ll just come alive. No. It reeked of magic, blood magic to be precise. Or some kind of dwarven version of it, there was probably a lot of lyrium involved. Dwarves don’t have magical talents like mages, it just doesn’t happen.

I was still missing a lot of pieces of the puzzle of course, and most of the pieces I did have were based on my personal observation of the only golem I had ever known. Generalising those observations would cause any self-respecting academic to bash his own head in. But I wasn’t going to dismiss my observations just like that. Though I was hesitant to draw conclusions.

We didn’t encounter any darkspawn that first day, which struck me as odd. I knew they went up to the surface during a Blight but shouldn’t there at least be some? Not that I was disappointed, I had no problem with their absence. I suppose the Blight was providing Orzammar with a desperately needed break from the constant battle with the foul creatures. Oghren said something along those lines, though it was hardly coherent.

I don’t know how he did it, but he was obviously drunk. I just hoped he would be able to wield that battle-axe. As a guide, he was doing reasonably well, meaning he kept leading us in the right direction. It wasn’t easy to track our progress on the map as we made our way through the tunnels, there were no points of orientation such as landmarks, rivers, or mountaintops, but Oghren seemed to be going the right way.

He had been down there before after all. He was also a warrior before he was stripped of his rank. I was happy to have him along, though, he smelled worse than Tapster’s and he said such disgusting things he even made Sten blush a couple of times. But he was capable of navigating the tunnels, and that made up for most of it. Eventually he led us to a suitable spot to set up camp. The tunnel had gotten a lot wider by now, and Oghren knew of a ridge that would allow us to stay out of sight, and give us a good view of both sides of the tunnel. We divided the watch after dinner, as usual. Shale would keep an eye on us too of course, it was rather insistent that we needed it to watch over us. It proclaimed to enjoy killing darkspawn, and that we seemed to do a lot of that. I think it was Shale’s way of saying it cared.

* * *

The nightmares… they were worse down there. It was as if every time I closed my eyes, I got torn apart by darkspawn over and over again. We hadn’t encountered any yet, but Alistair and I sensed their presence constantly.

This was their territory, it was almost as if the corruption was radiating off the stone. But when I looked at it, it seemed normal. Yet there it was, it felt as if the Taint within me was reacting to the corruption I sensed around me. It was… slowly dripping into my brain… like drops of ink mixing with water, I felt the swirling patterns. Polluting my thoughts. My mind was buzzing with whispers and distorted echoes. I died so many times that night that I felt like a dead woman walking when we moved on. The buzzing whispers and echoes receded to a nagging vibration in the back of my head. But the dreams, their intensity, and their frequency… It demanded a high toll. After two more days of this, I was starting to crack.

I had retreated inwards, following Oghren’s lead and sticking to Alistair’s side. Alistair noticed my change of demeanour of course, he was worried. The nightmares were still worse for me than they were for him, and I had a lot of sick shit of my own for my subconscious to torture me with. But I knew he felt the same thing I did, his dreams were worse down here too. He understood. So he gave me the silence I needed, I had retreated within myself for protection. It helped to shut out the world around me for a while. I didn’t have to absorb my companion’s fears and worries, in fact, it shut them out entirely. I was too far away for any of them to reach me. Save Asher and Alistair. It was a defence mechanism I had developed after killing Fjodor, one I only used in extreme circumstances, a survival strategy. The last time I had been like this, was in between my family being murdered and meeting Alistair in Ostagar.

I’d like to say I was in control of it… though the truth wasn’t as reassuring. Alistair occasionally squeezed my hand gently, or ran a hand down my back. He was letting me know he was there, waiting for me patiently. Asher stuck to me like glue, protective as he was of me.

That night, presumably, when we made camp, I took Alistair aside to explain what was going on. He took me in a metal embrace before I had even started talking. Much like he had back in Ostagar, it obliterated my composure.

“I know,” he whispered gently, tears streaming down my cheeks as I gave in. I breathed out slowly, until my lungs felt empty and compressed. I stayed that way for five heartbeats and sharply sucked in a breath. My chest shook with the effort. I bit my lip to stop it from shaking and looked up at Alistair.

“Thank you,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his neck and standing up on my toes to kiss him, repeating the words in between desperate, needful kisses. Alistair held me close, leaning his forehead against mine as we stopped kissing.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he whispered.  
“The Taint… I feel as if being down here is… it’s worse, a lot worse. Like it is speeding up the transition in my body. I feel… violated, somehow…” I trailed off. Putting it into words as best as I could. Alistair wiped the tears off my cheeks with his thumbs and looked deep into my eyes.  
“You are going to be fine,” he promised me earnestly, “I’ve got you.” I sniffled and wiped my face on my sleeve.

“I can’t sleep Alistair… I feel like I have spiders in my head, it’s driving me insane,” I whispered.  
“First of all, I am pretty sure your sanity was questionable at best before we even came down here,” Alistair said with a warm grin, looking down at me reassuringly, “second, you kill darkspawn like a homicidal maniac, they don’t stand a chance.” I gave him a chuckle and a tired smile.  
“Lucky I have a whole family of homicidal maniacs with me down here.”

“What’s all this whispering about homicidal maniacs?” Oghren slurred, interrupting the tender moment. I shook my head and looked at him blankly.  
“I am one,” I said flatly.  
“Oh, alright, good on you lass,” he replied and went back to his flask, not the least bit unnerved or concerned. I looked back at Alistair, who grinned at me boyishly.  
“Weirdo,” he said warmly and pulled me in for another armored hug.

Later that night, Sten approached me.  
“Warden,” he said brusquely to get my attention.  
“Sten,” I replied trying to imitate his tone. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow before continuing.  
“I understand your troubles with sleeping have gotten worse.”  
“It’s that obvious, huh?” I replied, looking at him, half expecting to scold me for showing my weakness.

“There is… something I could teach you,” he said hesitantly, “my people, we don’t sleep like you do.”  
“And?” I asked curiously.

“Have you ever wondered why the Qun don’t need as much sleep as you do?” Sten asked slowly. I was getting the feeling he was about to entrust some crazy Qunari culture thing to me, in an attempt to make me feel better. It was really sweet, to see him chew on his words and choosing them carefully.

“I always assumed it was just due to some physiological traits. You survive for much longer without any food or water too,” I said and cocked my head at him.  
“This is true, but we do not rely on our bodies only. The mind is just as important as it allows us to push our bodies further,” he explained. I nodded and waited for him to continue.

“We use a form of meditation, to rest the mind without sleeping,” Sten finally said. I perked up.  
“So… no dreams… right?” Resting my mind without sleeping, without dreaming, it sounded too good to be true. Sten nodded.  
“It will not eliminate your need to sleep, but it should allow you to withstand that need better.”

I almost jumped up to Sten’s neck to give him a hug, then I nearly jumped up to punch him for not telling me of this sooner. So I just stood there staring up at Sten.

“And… you are willing to teach me this?” I said tentatively, studying my Qunari friend closely. He nodded.  
“Normally, we don’t share these things with outsiders. But… you’ve shown… considerable effort, to understand me and my people better. And I wish to lighten your burden.”

I was stunned. I had been making good headway on bonding with Sten, we considered each other friends now. But this was a big deal, he not only offered to share something with me that was never meant for outsiders, but he also expressed his wish to lighten my burden. This was a _very_ big deal for Sten.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Sten,” I said quietly.  
“No need,” Sten said dismissively, "come, I will teach you."

From that moment on, Sten started mentoring me. Every day, after we made camp and everybody had gone to bed, I practiced guided meditation. Sten being the guide, of course. He was remarkably patient, explaining that the whole point of the exercise to wasn’t to do it perfectly, but to find tranquillity in the here and now. Which involved a lot of steering my attention to where I wanted it to be. Not with my worries, the images from my dreams, my exhaustion. Sten was teaching me to let these be and transcend them. Letting the unwelcome thoughts pass without engaging them. Not suppressing them, they would only push back harder pulling my attention back.

The trick was letting go of the wish that things were different, taking a step back and just observing. It wasn’t easy, in fact it was very difficult to take control of my mind like this. There was a lot of shit going through my brain at any given time, and my exhaustion didn’t make focussing easy.

I struggled a lot during that first evening of practice, and afterwards I was a bit dazed. My mind felt slow, and rigid. Like an exhausted muscle after a long and repetitive exercise. But I did actually feel a little better. While I still slept like shit that night, I did sleep a little better than the nights before.

Eventually we started running into darkspawn, giant spiders, deepstalkers, and other nasty creatures that tried to kill us. Oghren was able to find sources of uncontaminated water, but often too small to bathe in. As a result, we were covered in days-old blood, gore, dirt, and dust. If the darkspawn couldn’t already sense us, they would smell us for sure. We were all pretty miserable by the time we made it to Caridin’s Cross. From there, we didn’t have a map to follow, we would have to find Ortan Thaig on our own. There were no tracks for us to follow, no neat little trail of breadcrumbs. But, there were road signs.

“Hey Oghren, you can read these right?” I called him over while examining the unfamiliar writing on one of the road signs.  
“Aye,” he grumbled as he made his way over, bumping into Alistair.  
“What? You’re… you’re drunk, aren’t you?” Alistair said with a chuckle when Oghren fell on his ass, and then flat on his face as he scrambled to get up.  
“Eh? Was that a question? It didn’t sound like a question,” Oghren replied absently. Alistair was trying to look stern but I could see the smile tugging at his lips.  
“How in the Maker’s name do you manage to constantly be drunk? Do we even carry that much alcohol with us?”  
“Jealous, eh?” Oghren grinned sheepishly when he finally got back on his feet.

“A little, yes. Why can’t I be drunk all the time? I never get to be drunk,” Alistair said with a frown. I snickered and gave Alistair a knowing look back over my shoulder. He knew I hadn’t forgotten about him comparing scars with Teagan.

“You know,” Oghren said while walking towards the road sign, “if you drank more wine, you’d whine a lot less.”  
“Smart ass,” I remarked as I waited for Oghren to decipher the old writing.

“Something about who made these roads, no directions” Oghren said with a shrug.  
“Pity,” I replied, “I had high hopes that this one would say, ‘east towards Ortan Thaig’.”  
“And when have we ever been _that_ lucky?” Alistair replied wryly.  
“Apparently _today_ is the day it is _that_ lucky,” Shale remarked dryly.

We all turned our heads towards the golem standing in front of another road sign a little further ahead. Then Oghren, Alistair, and I scrambled to look at the sign Shale was talking about.

“Well stick me in a dress and call me Sally,” Oghren panted, “the dumb rock is right!” I looked up at Shale.  
“You can read this,” I said slowly.  
“Yes,” Shale replied flatly.  
“You can _read_ this,” I repeated, louder and more forcefully.  
“Yes,” Shale said in an annoyed tone, “did it go deaf when I wasn’t looking?”

“Shale, usually only dwarves and a handful of scholars know how to read Dwarfish,” I clarified.  
“Oh…” Shale replied softly, “but golems are a dwarven invention, are they not? Doesn’t it follow logically that I can read this?”  
“I don’t know… let’s just add it to the list of your known personal traits,” I answered thoughtfully.

My mind wandered back to my suspicions on where a golem’s mind comes from. I found it hard to believe that a highly developed conscious mind like Shale’s just comes into existence like that. Plus, I had never heard of anyone who wasn’t _taught_ how to read but just magically gained the skill without the struggle that comes with learning something new. But there was no such thing as a baby golem, was there? 

* * *

Ortan Thaig was completely infested with darkspawn and giant spiders. Those things still made my skin crawl. I made a point of reducing my foes to the proper number of limbs. It wasn’t really an improvement. Dead was better.

We didn’t find Branka in Ortan Thaig, and we didn’t find the Anvil of the Void there either. After a particularly nasty scuffle with a queen spider and a shitload of her babies, we found a logbook. Oghren recognised Branka’s handwriting. He read through it frantically several times while the rest of us were being tended to by Wynne and Morrigan.

Leliana got bit one too many times and got a lot of spider venom in her bloodstream. More than the rest of us. Think of it as the sting of a wasp, it’s annoying and it hurts but it’s not life-threatening. Unless you get assaulted by a whole lot of wasps and the concentration of venom in your system gets higher and higher. Until it gets too high, which was the case for Leliana, she’d been temporarily paralyzed. And that resulted in respiratory problems and a dangerously weak pulse. 

Zevran knew how to mix her an antidote but he wasn’t doing too well either. He got taken by one of the spiders, which had attempted to wrap him in a cocoon hanging from the ceiling, Zevran cut himself free and ended up making quite a fall. Wynne was tending to him while Morrigan stabilised Leliana. Meanwhile I helped Sten and Alistair to clean and bandage their wounds. Asher was pissing on one of the spider corpses, good boy. Meanwhile, Shale happily stomped anything that still moved.

“I fucking hate spiders,” I mumbled, looking at two puncture wounds on the back of Alistair’s knee. One particularly tenacious spider had managed to bite through the chain-mail protecting him there.  
“Me too,” Alistair sighed, he was lying on his stomach so I could get to the injury. I was looking at two holes where the curved fangs of the spider had penetrated his flesh. The edges were swollen, and the skin had taken on a greyish shade of purple. Kind of like a bruise. I gently cleaned the wounds with water and a clean rag, applied a poultice to help prevent infection, and started to wrap a bandage around his leg.

“How does it feel, it’s not too tight is it?” I asked as I finished with the bandage.  
“No, no, it’s fine,” he turned around and got into a sitting position, smiling at me. He reached to touch the side of my head, where fresh blood was clotting my hair.  
“What happened here?”  
“Spider tackled me,” I replied as I turned my head so Alistair could take a better look. He gently moved my hair so he could look at my scalp.  
“Small cut,” he said, “you’ll live.” I grinned back at him.  
“You _don't_ say.”  
“Head injuries need to be taken seriously,” he replied and brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear.  
“I know, I know,” I sighed, “I have a slight headache but I don’t feel nauseated and my head isn’t spinning. I’ll talk to Wynne after she takes care of Zevran and Leliana.” Alistair nodded.  
“Good girl.”

I found myself smiling at the endearing words, normally I didn’t respond too well to people calling me a ‘good girl’ in a similar context. But with Alistair, I didn’t mind it at all.

After making sure Alistair and Sten were taken care of, I approached Oghren to see what he found.

“Warden,” he exclaimed and beckoned me closer to look at the logbook, “Branka was here, we got her trail now!” I looked over the logbook, luckily, Branka was writing in the common language and not in traditional dwarven script. The logbook gave a detailed report of her activities and next steps. She believed the Anvil to be somewhere else and followed the trail.

“The Dead Trenches?” I said, looking at Oghren, “sounds lovely.”  
“And look, she was thinking of me, heh, I knew it, old softie,” Oghren pointed at a passage where Branka wrote that the words she had to say to Oghren were for his ears alone. I continued reading more of the logbook, hoping I could get some idea of what Branka was like.

“She’s dedicated,” I said quietly while leafing through the log. Oghren nodded.  
“Once she set her mind on something, there was no stopping her.”  
“I can tell,” I replied without taking my eyes off the pages.

Branka talked about the Anvil a lot. Actually, she talked about the Anvil so much I wondered about her. This person took her entire house down into the Deep Roads to find something she didn’t even know the location of. That was two years ago, before the Blight started and the darkspawn started leaving for the surface. The risk she took… the sacrifices she must have made… I wondered if she crossed the line between being dedicated and being obsessed. I also noticed there was hardly any mention of the people that followed her, just the Anvil…

“So?” Oghren asked impatiently, “we going, or what?”  
“To the Dead Trenches? You know that place?” I asked.  
“Aye, the bloody Dead Trenches woman! Branka isn’t going to find her sodding self!” he replied.  
“Keep your voice down you bloody nug licker, you want more spiders and darkspawn on our asses?” I said sharply.  
“Fine,” Oghren replied, “so are we going?”  
“It’s not just up to me, but we’ve come this far. No sense in going back now,” I answered looking back at Alistair. Oghren followed my gaze.

“So, you and blondie, huh?” he said with a wide grin and poked me in my side.  
“Me and blondie, yes,” I replied and swatted at his hand. Oghren replies with a snicker.  
“So, what’s that like?” I rolled my eyes at Oghren.  
“Why? Are you interested in tall, handsome men?”  
“No, I’m interested in tall, busty women,” he replied and wriggled his eyebrows at me. I swatted the back of his head.

“We’re here to find your wife, dirty old man.”  
“Dirty _drunken_ old man,” Oghren corrected me.  
“Fair point,” I admitted. We took the logbook and showed Alistair what Oghren found, he immediately agreed to go to the Dead Trenches on the morrow. Leliana needed some time to recover and Zevran had a concussion. We ended up in Branka’s old camp, we had cleared the Thaig of enemies so we should be all right.

* * *

I looked around the old campsite, there was an old firepit, which Morrigan was now using to build a fire. Some larger rocks were arranged around it to sit on or lean against. Zevran and Wynne were using one as a table to prepare dinner. Alistair was putting down bedrolls while Shale and Leliana were investigating our surroundings, looking for hiding places and the like, to make sure no one can sneak up on us.

Oghren and Sten were looking for any material we could use to feed the fire, which mostly meant taking wood off older structures like scaffolds or shelves around us. Before this was Branka’s old campsite, it must have been some sort of trade hub. Sten and Oghren brought wooden boxes and barrels to burn, and there were many more scattered about. Though there were no usable items to be found, they had already been looted of had rotted away.

I found a few traces of people having been there recently, a left water-skin, a broken clay cup, an empty bottle of booze, that sort of thing. From what I could tell, this campsite had long been abandoned, most items were covered in a thin layer of dust and cobwebs.

 _Most,_ I thought to myself as my eye fell on a smooth black rock with grey veins running through it. It must have been dropped there recently. As I moved towards it, I saw movement from the corner of my eye. I quickly turned to get a better look, but all I could vaguely see was a small form scurrying away in the dark.

“We’re not alone,” I informed my companions as I picked up the rock.  
“What do you mean?” Alistair replied.  
“There’s something out there, I couldn’t get a good look before it bolted,” I replied quietly while studying the rock. While it was pretty, it didn’t look particularly valuable. Could it have been after the rock? It didn’t look like much…

“I think we should go after it, to make sure it’s hostile or not,” I said slowly. Alistair sighed and nodded.

We brought Oghren, Asher, and Wynne with us as we headed into the direction that our mysterious, small, scurrying form ran off to. I felt a tingle in the back of my mind as we went further into the tunnel, like darkspawn, but not quite.

“Alistair, are you getting that?” I asked and cocked my head in the direction of the source. He paused for a moment, looking as if he was listening intently. Then his eyes snapped open and he gazed into the dark.  
“It’s… different,” he replied thoughtfully, “it’s something tainted, but not…”  
“Malevolent,” I finished his sentence.

“You have any idea what they are going on about?” Oghren asked Wynne. Wynne shook her head thoughtfully.  
“My best guess, they are sensing something.” Oghren looked up at her with a frown.  
“Now I need to know what _you_ are going on about,” he mumbled and looked back at Alistair and me.

“Asher, here boy,” I called quietly. He padded over and sat, looking at me expectantly as I squatted down next to him. I pointed into the direction of the source of the tingling, “you smell anything up there? Can you smell people?” I asked. Asher began sniffing around on the ground, looking for a trail. Then he stopped and looked at me while digging at the ground with a paw, he’d picked something up. I nodded and got up to follow him.

“Is the dog sensing things too now?” Oghren asked with confusion.  
“Shh,” I hissed in Oghren’s direction, “follow me.”

Asher lead us deeper into the tunnel, all the while smelling the ground. Then he stopped, walking around in a circle and sniffing some more. Then he looked up at the cavern wall, it looked solid from where we stood, but there was in fact another tunnel there, a smaller one. In the flickering light of the torch, we would have missed it.

Alistair could barely stand up straight as we passed through it and had to bend his neck so his head wouldn’t hit the ceiling. It lead us into a cavern, where we found more rocks with remarkable colour, shape, or texture. Some were a little like the one I took from the camp. They were organised into several piles to sort them from each other. I stepped into the cavern and looked around.

Hidden in shadow, I saw a young dwarf sitting hunched over and looking at me with big, round eyes. I motioned for my companions to stay where they are at the mouth of the cavern as I took a few slow steps forward.

“Hello,” I said gently. The dwarf shook his head violently.  
“No! there’s nothing here. I- I claims it,” he said with exasperation, “you… humans, come take my claim, t- thieves! I founds it first!” he added while staring at me with big fearful eyes. I raised my hands in front of me.  
“It’s ok, I’ve not come to steal anything, I promise,” I said in a soft tone, trying to appease him.  
“Pretty lady… pretty eyes, pretty hair… smells like the steam of burning water, blue as the deepest rock,” the dwarf mumbled to himself, making awkward movements with his head tilted side-ways. Like his muscles were spasming. He looked at my companions, and then back to me.  
“So, pretty lady won’t take anything from Ruck?” he asked tentatively, I hear Wynne gasp behind me, “you won’t take Ruck’s shiny worms and pretty rocks?”

“I promise, it’s ok. You can come out now, I just want to talk,” I replied gently.  
“Oh, Ruck not mind that. Maybe,” he said in a softer tone than before. Ruck took a few hesitant steps toward me, stopped, froze, looked at me again, and took two more steps, stopping at the edge of the light cast by our torches. Like a frightened animal, ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger.

“So your name is Ruck,” I began gently, like I was talking to a frightened child.  
“Ruck not pretty name. Not pretty like lady… Ruck is small, and ugly, and twisted,” he said while averting his eyes.

“'Ruck' sounds a little like 'rock,' which is stone, I think that’s a good name. I brought you something,” I kept my eyes on Ruck as I take the rock I found at camp and offered it to him. His eyes light up.  
“Pretty lady brings a gift?” I nodded.  
“Yes, it’s for you.” Ruck stepped into the light and drew a few steps closer.

Only then did I see the signs of darkspawn corruption clearly. Dark blotches on the skin, sunken eyes, and trembling limbs. Ruck took the rock from me and turned it over in his hands, tracing the grey veins with his fingers.

“Pretty rock,” he said, mostly to himself, “pretty rock, gift from pretty lady.” He walked over to a small pile of similar rocks and reverently put it on top, was face is beaming when he looked back at me.  
“Can I ask you some questions, Ruck?” I asked gently.  
“Ruck will answer questions,” he said with a nod, “for pretty lady.”

“How long have you been here?”  
“Too long,” Ruck said and he sat down on the ground next to me, so I sat down too, “I thinks five… six years? Ruck don’t remember, don’t remember…”  
“That’s a long time,” I said and move to sit cross-legged, “how did you survive all that time?”  
“When the darkses was here, Ruck stays in the shadows. They don’t look in the shadows, not when you’re quiet. Not if you eat their flesh,” Ruck said nervously, looking around the pool of light we were sitting in.

His eyes lingered on my companions for a moment, I half expected him to run away again when I saw him go motionless like a startled deer. Alistair gave him an awkward wave, and to my surprise, Ruck waved back at him and then looked back to me.  
“If you eat the flesh, then the darkses think you are one of thems. They leaves you alone. Now they’re gone. Ruck is clever,” he added the last bit with a toothy grin.  
“Very clever indeed. But there were still spiders, right?”  
“The crawlies,” Ruck said with a vigorous nod, “they used to eat the little darkses. Now they go hungry.”  
“Do you know where the darkses went?” I asked hesitantly.

Ruck obviously had some connection to them, perhaps the Taint was brought on in him by eating darkspawn flesh. Regular corruption shouldn’t take this long. And it would explain why I sensed Ruck before I found him.

“I thinks they went south, pretty lady, far, far to the south. Where the dark master calls them with his beautiful voice, so much joy, when he awoke,” Ruck said with a deep sigh.  
“After the dark master awoke, he called his children, and they all went. Ruck wanted to go too, and gaze upon its beauty,” he continued with a dreamy look in his eyes.  
“Do you know where the dark master is, Ruck?”  
“He stopped calling,” Ruck replied in a sad voice, “I wish I could go see, but Ruck. No, no, Ruck-Ruck is a coward,” he averted his eyes again and remained quiet.

“Can I ask you something else, Ruck?” I said softly, he nodded.  
“Did you find anything unusual around here?”  
“Bits of things, only bits, the crawlies took almost everything,” Ruck said, “they take things of steel, things of paper. They take the shinies and the words. They brings it, to the great nest. The nest they makes for the eggses, they puts the shinies inside, they do.”  
“Greedy crawlies,” I said, and Ruck nodded vigorously again.  
“Greedy, yes, _greedy_ crawlies.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Wynne trying to get my attention.

“I think my friend Wynne wants to ask a question too, is that ok?” I asked Ruck while pointing to Wynne. He studied her for a moment and then nodded. Wynne approached slowly, so she wouldn’t scare Ruck, and sat down on the ground with us.

“Hello,” Wynne said softly and attempted to make eye-contact with Ruck. He avoided her gaze however.   
“Hello,” Ruck mumbled shyly.  
“I think I met you mother Ruck, is her name Filda?” Ruck shook his head violently,  
“N- n- n- no! No Filda! No mother!” Ruck said in a panicked voice, “no warm blanket and stew and pillow and soft words. Ruck doesn’t deserve good memories,” he sniffled and buried his hands in his hair while rocking back and forth, “no, no, no, no.”

Wynne looked at me with wide eyes, shocked at Ruck’s response.

“Shh, there, there, Ruck,” I whispered as I gently stroked his head in an attempt to calm him down. He started weeping softly into his hands and leaned against my shoulder.  
“Your mother misses you, Ruck, she asked me to find you,” Wynne explained. Ruck sniffled again.  
“Sh- she didn’t know, what I did, I was very, very, very, _very_ , angry, and then someone was dead. They wanted to send Ruck to the mines!” he looked up at me with red, teary eyes.

“If Ruck went to the mines, she would know. Everyone would know. So I came here, instead,” he said desperately, “once you eat… once you take in the darkness… you not miss the light so much…” Then he looked at me again, inquisitively, “you know, do you not? Ruck sees, yes. Sees the darkness inside you.” I nodded slowly.  
“Yes, I’m a Grey Warden.”  
“Grey as the stone, guardian against darkness. Beautiful like waterfalls under the lichen.”

I held Ruck’s gaze a bit longer, there was a desperate need in his eyes. He had been alone for so long, starved for companionship, for someone who could relate. He was deathly ill, but he didn’t seem to know it. Looking into his eyes, I wanted him to know that there were still people who cared.

“You have to tell your mother you’re alive, Ruck,” I said gently, “she cares about you.” Ruck shook his head again.  
“No. Mother, mother cannot see Ruck like this. She has the good memories now, the good memories, they must stay,” he said firmly, tears started to roll down his cheeks again. I gently put an arm around his shoulders.  
“I miss my mother too,” I whispered. Ruck broke down crying again and put his head in my lap, I gently stroked his hair as I sang to him in a trembling voice.

_Wer gutes tut dem wird vergeben,  
Zo zeit recht gut auf allen wegen,  
Dan bekommt ihr bald besuch,  
Wir kommen mit den liederbuch,_

_Wir sind fur die musik geboren,  
Wir sind die diener eurer ohren,  
Immer wenn ihr traurig seid,  
Spielen wir fur euch,_

_Wenn ihr ohne sunde lebt,  
Einander braaf das handchen gebt,  
Wenn ihr nicht zum sonne schielt,  
Wird fur euch ein lied gespielt,_

_Wir sind fur die musik geboren,  
Wir sind die diener eurer ohren,  
Immer wenn ihr traurig seid,  
Spielen wir fur euch,_

_Wenn ihr nicht schlafen kunt,  
Sei euch ein lied vergunt,  
Und den Himmel bricht,  
Ein lied fallt weig vom himmelslicht,_

_Wir sind fur die musik geboren,  
Wir sind die diener eurer ohren,  
Immer wenn ihr traurig seid,  
Spielen wir fur euch,_

Ruck had stopped crying by the time I finished. I had completely forgotten why I was there and what I was supposed to be doing, soothing Ruck had taken up every free bit of space in my mind. The others gaped at me, they had never heard me sing, let alone a foreign language. Except Asher, he just wagged his tail and had snuggled up against me while I comforted Ruck.

“Don’t tell mother…” Ruck whispered.  
“I won’t, I’ll leave the good memories,” I whispered back.  
“Ruck will die soon,” he continued, “I feels it, the darkness tells Ruck. Tell mother, tell her I am dead. But, but don’t tell her…”  
“I won’t tell her how, just that you are dead, I promise,” I replied. Ruck sat up.  
“Pretty lady is kind, kinder than Ruck deserves.” He got up, turned and started to rummage about in the remains of a chest. Then he returned to sit next to me and held out a silver ring with a pale blue stone.

“A gift,” Ruck said, “gift for kind, pretty lady, it gives protection. Ruck wants pretty lady protected, when she meets the dark master,” he didn’t dare meet my eyes as he offered me his gift. I paused for a moment, did he just assume I would go after his ‘dark master’, who we all know is the Archdemon, because he sensed the Taint in me? Or did he know something?

“Thank you, Ruck. That is very thoughtful,” I said as I took the ring from him. I shared a brief look with Wynne, who gave me the barest of nods. I put the ring on my finger.

I decided to leave Ruck be, he was bonkers and he was definitely going to die down there, but it seemed to be what he wanted. I couldn’t bring myself to kill him, even if it would be out of mercy. So I let Ruck go, hoping he wouldn’t suffer too long.

“What the bloody hell did I just watch?” Oghren said as we were walking back to camp and Ruck was out of earshot.  
“In short, I’d say a meeting with a mad dwarf suffering from darkspawn corruption,” Wynne said dryly.  
“And that sort of thing is normal to you people?” Oghren asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You’ll get used to it, Fela tends to make friends in the strangest places,” Alistair replied, “a mad dwarf in the Deep Roads isn’t even that high in the rankings.”  
“So what’s next? Tea with the Archdemon? Hah,” Oghren said and grinned to himself.  
“Didn’t I warn you our party mainly exists of armed lunatics?” I asked Oghren with a flat look.

“You most certainly did. You also warned me you are a homicidal maniac, which is hot, but what I just saw wasn’t on my list of expectations,” Oghren said and he took a deep drink from his flask, which seemed to hold an infinite amount of booze.

“Another thing you’ll get used to,” Alistair said flatly, “like how you never knew she speaks a second language,” he added with a smile.  
“Not really, not well at least. It was a song my mother used to sing,” I replied.  
“Do you speak any other languages than the common tongue? How many do you know?” Alistair asked.

“Orlesian, Tevene, or Tevinter if you like, and a bit of Anders, like the song. Elvish, script too, and a good bit of Antivan, enough to get around and have a good conversation,” I confessed.  
“Andraste’s _tits_ ,” Alistair said with wide eyes.

“Language!” Wynne scolded.

“Sorry,” Alistair said and composed himself, “ahem, impressive. I had no idea,” Alistair said.  
“I have a thing for languages,” I said with a shrug, “and my parents stimulated my eagerness to learn different languages. They said it was important for a Lady to maintain diplomatic relations with people from other nations.”  
“But not dwarfish?” I shook my head.   
“Never took to it, and five other languages kept me quite busy.”

“Why languages?” Alistair asked.  
“I don’t know, I just enjoyed learning them,” I replied.  
“So, how many is that in total?” he continued.  
“Six, the common tongue, Orlesian, Tevene, Anders, Antivan, and Elvish,” I summarised.

“Six languages…” Alistair mused, “how do you even remember that many words?”  
“There are actually a lot of similarities if you know where to look for them, I just sort of… connect the dots. All languages came from one or two ancient ones I think, they have roots in mostly the same places. At least, that’s my theory,” I replied.

“See,” Alistair said and nudged Oghren, “you can forget your list of expectations so long as we have Fela around, you don’t have the imagination to make even a _slightly_ realistic one.” Oghren chuckled and shook his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have probably noticed I included the lyrics to a song again. The credit goes to Rammstein, for their song 'Ein Lied.' Now, if you've heard of Rammstein before, you probably know they are a German metal band. But metal isn't all they've ever made. Ein Lied is a more acoustic track where Till sings in that lovely deep voice of his, but he doesn't grunt like he usually does. 
> 
> I won't bother you with my life story, but I've struggled with chronic depression since early childhood. Blah blah blah, how tragic, yes, yes, very sad, very uninteresting. But, during one particular episode when I was crazy stressed because I was writing my thesis, this song got under my skin and comforted me. It helped. And when I was writing the scene with Ruck, I got all emotional and thought of this song again. I understand a little German, so if you don't, it might help to search for a translation to understand why it comforted me so. That is, if you are interested in looking it up and listening. Which I very much recommend.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group ventures deeper into the Deep Roads to reach the Dead Trenches. It gets angsty, which is fixed with violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger alert! And this time it's going to get graphic, and rape-y. Sorry, I've marked it with stars, but throughout the chapter there will be recurring mention of rape. So be warned.

Our encounters with darkspawn steadily became more frequent as we ventured deeper into the Deep Roads.

The Dead Trenches were about six days away. Or at least, Oghren said so, I couldn’t tell time down there. Though it didn’t really matter at what hour of the day we travelled, the Deep Roads were still dark and crammed with things that wanted to kill us, and they didn’t care what time it was. I just hoped my sleeping-rhythm wasn’t too messed up when we got out of there.

As we got closer to the Dead Trenches, the buzzing in my head got stronger. The corruption around us got more tangible. The spiders in my head grew restless. I felt… a calling… not _the_ Calling, but something was reaching out to me. It terrified me, and at the same time, it was soothing. Alistair felt it too, he thought it was because there were just so many darkspawn down there. But I thought there was more to it, we dreamed of the Archdemon more often. It’s as if it were closer… Or maybe we were closer to it, I wasn’t sure. I fucking hated it when I turned out to be right about this.

The Dead Trenches, formerly known as the dwarven city, Bownammar, were at the other side of a gigantic chasm in the earth. Both Alistair and I sensed a huge number of darkspawn, we couldn’t even tell how many. But we didn’t need to be Grey Wardens to notice the noise. A thunderous roar, originating from countless darkspawn throats, accompanied by the clanging of metal, came from down below. Our companions heard it just fine. We found the horde.

Alistair and I crept closer to the edge to get a closer look while the rest remained behind cover. As long as they were all down there, and none saw us, we should be fine. I reached the edge before Alistair did, his armor slowed him down. I nearly let myself topple over the edge when I saw the vast mass of darkspawn down there.

“Maker…” Alistair gasped when he crouched next to me and stared down into the abyss.  
“Suddenly I feel very insecure about our numbers,” I whispered, still looking down.

Out of nowhere, Alistair dragged me back and tackled me to the ground behind a rock, roughly.

He covered my mouth with his hand when I tried to protest angrily against his manhandling. But I froze when I saw the Archdemon. It passed right over us, roaring that gnashing, shrieking sound. We stayed as still as possible, praying it didn’t see us. We had seen a dragon before, when we crossed that valley to get to the Ashes of Andraste, but that dragon looked nothing like this one. Darkness crackled close against its scales. Many of which had sharp, needle-like shapes, making the Archdemon look as if it had thorns running along its spine, tail, legs, wings, and head. This thing couldn’t have looked any more demonic, its teeth stuck out over its lower jaw. Set with another line of long teeth interlocking with their opposites. It oozed hatred, aggression, and malice. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time. My blood sang as it passed overhead, I could almost feel my pupils dilate as I followed it with my gaze. Yes, there was a calling, powerful, soothing, and dripping with hatred. I could almost taste it in on my lips.

“ _That!?_ ” I whispered harshly when the Archdemon was no longer in sight, “we’re fighting _that_!?”

Alistair had released his grip on me but was still lying on top while I angrily gestured into the direction of the Archdemon.

“That’s a Goddamn, _demon_ dragon, dripping corruption!” I nudged at Alistair who just stared at me blankly, his face ashen.  
“Alistair,” I snapped my fingers in front of his face, “hey! Snap out of it!” He blinked.  
“Yes,” he said, still slightly stunned, “we are fighting that horrible thing…” I let out a desperate laugh in a moment of temporary madness.

“You’re doing it again,” Alistair said with a slight grin and moved to get up. He was still pale and wide-eyed when he pulled me to my feet.  
“Ok, so maybe I’m a bit of a maniac,” I admitted, “I am going to attempt to kill it, after all.” Alistair nodded solemnly.  
“Yes, it’s probably a good thing you’re nuts. If you were sane you would be half-way across Thedas by now.”  
“As any sane person would,” I affirmed. We both burst out giggling.  
“Maker, am I glad you’re with me-” Alistair began but he got cut off.

“Sodding Stone, they witness the Archdemon in all its corrupted glory and they are giggling like a pair of dumb nug-tails,” Oghren sighed, “what the hell are you lot doing with these two?” Zevran shrugged.  
“At least we never grow bored, it gets weirder, trust me. These two attract weird shit like honey attracts bees. Did I tell you about the demon invested tower? An abysmal freakshow, she accurately called it.”  
“And then there was the dragon worshipping cult,” Leliana added.  
“The walking dead in Redcliffe,” Wynne chimed in.

“Alright, alright,” I interrupted, “just don’t forget you guys willingly participated,” I said with a sideways look and a pointed finger.  
“No kidding about the armed lunatics then,” Oghren said with a grin.

After taking a rest, we crossed one of the massive bridges, and entered the Dead Trenches. They were crawling with darkspawn of course, but the architecture was magnificent. Such a shame it had fallen to the darkspawn. Oghren voiced his frustrations in drunken slurs that were more curses than words. We fought our way through the Dead Trenches, hoping to find some trace of Branka. We found the Legion of the Dead instead. They were holding off a darkspawn assault from the other side of the bridge, and they were losing ground.

We sprung into motion, Shale and Sten led the charge, barrelling into the stream of darkspawn coming from the bridge. Alistair, Asher, Zevran, Oghren, and I followed closely, our job was to decrease the numbers as quickly as possible. Killing the darkspawn that had been knocked to the ground and fending off the ones still standing.

I stabbed a prone darkspawn in the chest and immediately dodged to the side to evade a hurlock’s axe. I rolled over another that was just getting up, putting it between the hurlock and myself. Darkspawn don’t really care about their own kind, and the hurlock ended up beheading it. While the axe was down, I took my chance to kick its legs from under it and stab it as it went down. I was deliberately searching out alpha’s, undermining leadership among the darkspawn and causing chaos without it. Alistair was doing the same, unfortunately, he had attracted the attention of three alpha’s at once.

I leapt forward, going down in a slide to evade the swing of a broadsword. I sliced at the darkspawn’s knees while I was at it. I got to Alistair just in time to block the sword of one of the alpha’s, striking at his back. I kicked it away from me, hard. The alpha crashed into another darkspawn, impaling itself on its sword. I moved my rapiers back to gut one coming at me from behind, spinning and kicking at one that came from the front. I beheaded it as it staggered. I went after the second alpha, still attacking Alistair.

I forced it back with a flurry of blows, keeping it on the defensive. I drove it to the edge of the bridge and kicked it off. I turned, swiped at a genlock and saw Alistair run the last alpha through. Alistair, Zevran, Oghren, and I fought back to back, slowly but surely driving the darkspawn back. Leliana was raining arrows down on the darkspawn, never hitting one of us though we were in very close quarters. Morrigan had blocked off the bridge with an ice storm spell, stopping the darkspawn crossing it. When we managed to reach the legionnaires, our joined forces made short work of the remaining darkspawn. What remained on our side soon crumbled. The darkspawn still trying to cross the bridge retreated while we slaughtered the rest.

I cleaned my swords before resheathing them.   
“You’re very efficient, for a drunk,” I said and turned to Oghren, he chuckled.  
“Bottoms up Warden,” he raised his flask at me and took a deep drink.

I swear that thing held an infinite amount of booze.

Meanwhile, Alistair was talking with the Commander of the Legion of the Dead, Kardol.  
“Atrast vala, Grey Warden, I’ve never seen one of your kind in the Deep Roads,” he said as Alistair shook his hand.  
“You don’t sound surprised,” Alistair replied.  
“The surprise is not that you have come, it’s that you have come in so small a number,” Kardol replied, “what do you want here, Warden?”  
“I need to find Paragon Branka,” Alistair answered patiently. Kardol’s expression went from cranky, to amused, to annoyed.

“Who put this dull idea into your head? We’ve got other things to worry about in Orzammar!” he paused for a moment and sighed, “ah, now I see. The Deep Lords in the Assembly can’t make up their minds, so the pretenders need added influence. I get that right?” Alistair shrugged at Kardol, who was looking at him with squinted eyes.  
“So give me a better idea,” he said blankly.  
“It’s not my job to shore up the Assembly chasing dead legends,” Kardol replied sourly, “the Legion holds a line so those fools have time to put an ass on the throne. After that, we’ll be the first into the Dead Trenches. Might even tackle your Blight, though that’s a surfacer problem. You wanna go digging blind, you go right ahead.” The stocky man with the bald head and prominent face tattoo gestured towards the bridge leading to what was left of the darkspawn that had just attempted an assault.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Alistair said curtly, “goodbye.”  
“Good luck, Grey Warden,” Kardol replied as he turned to see to his men.

“Thank you for saving our asses, Warden,” I said sarcastically when Kardol was out of earshot, “no problem, Kardol, any time.”  
“Hush,” Alistair said, nudging my shoulder, “it’s the friendliest face we’ve seen so far down here, excepting Ruck.” I leaned my head against Alistair’s shoulder and sighed.  
“I hate this place.”  
“Me too…” Alistair hesitated before continuing, “the dreams have gotten… weirder…”  
“Understatement of the year,” I mumbled and shivered at the memory of the dreams Alistair was referring to.

Whenever we dreamt about darkspawn, it was usually about the horde, or getting ripped apart. Lately though, whenever I dreamt about the darkspawn, it was different. I had dreamt several times that they abducted me. Alistair hadn’t dreamt of getting abducted himself, but his dreams _did_ revolve around abduction. Which was odd, because we usually experienced the dreams from about the same standpoint. But not with this new development. I dreamt about getting abducted and Alistair dreamed about trying to stop abductions.

“I can’t shake the feeling that there is something down here…” Alistair finally said, “at first I thought you were just sensing more intensely than I was. That the feeling you described was due to your… you know, thing. I still do. But… now I’m starting to think you just sensed it before I did…” he trailed off, lost in thought.  
“Alistair, are darkspawn in the habit of abducting people?” I asked slowly. He briefly stared into the distance before responding.

“Women,” he whispered, “they are known to abduct women.” My blood froze in my veins.  
“What do they do with them?” I asked quietly.  
“We don’t know. None have ever returned after finding out,” Alistair replied in a hollow voice.  
“Andraste, preserve us,” I whispered. Alistair pulled me close as I started drawing conclusions. I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t really want to find out, but I had a pitch black suspicion. I was afraid to even think about what the feeling in my stomach told me.

At Alistair’s request, Oghren had found a suitable spot to make camp. It was close to where Kardol and his legionnaires had made their camp, but more secluded. Further away from the bridge that separated us from the darkspawn on the other side. I didn’t like sleeping with such a large number in close proximity, but I was also exhausted from the battles. The battle we had found ourselves in when we found Kardol and his men had been far from the only one we fought that day. I needed rest, my body needed rest.

So, after a modest meal, I crawled into my bedroll, snuggling up to Asher. I fell asleep spooning my big stinky dog, trying not to think about the things Alistair and I had spoken of. My subconscious had different plans.

* * *

*****************************************************************************

I was unarmed, wandering the Deep Roads.

A maze of stone tunnels that never seemed to lead anywhere. I started to run, desperately trying to find a way out. I needed to get out, away from there. To the surface. Running as fast as I could, I found nothing but more stone tunnels that led nowhere. I was hopelessly lost, and terrified.

I _needed_ to get out.

I searched frantically for some sign of a draft, the sound of water, anything to point me in the right direction. Then dashed forward into a random tunnel, I was running for my life. My feet pounded the stone beneath me, my breathing was ragged, and my heart pounded in my ears. My instincts screamed at me to run faster, to get away as fast as I could. Something vile and malevolent lurked in this place, I felt it radiating from the stone around me. It was coming for me.

I screamed when black claws took hold, dragging me into the dark. I tried to jerk my arms free, to kick at my assailant, scratching, biting, screaming. Every time I got a claw off of me, another grabbed at me. They ran across my body, raking my flesh, tearing at my clothes. Darkspawn. They held me down.

I sat up screaming in my bedroll as I realised what was about to happen to me. Asher barked like mad.  
“Fela!” Alistair roared as he sat up as well, waking from the dream.

I wasn’t so lucky, the darkspawn were molding my flesh. I cried and begged, hopelessly struggling against their hold on me. Alistair took hold of my wrists and tried to shake me awake.  
“Wake up, Fela. It’s not real, you’re dreaming!” I scrambled back to get away from him, backing up against the wall.

The darkspawn were forcing my legs apart, their fingers digging into my flesh. One grabbed me by my hair, pulled my head back and stuck its fingers into my mouth, to keep it open while he spat in it. The darkspawn forced themselves inside me.

Alistair got to his feet as I pulled at my hair and sunk to my knees, whimpering and begging for it to stop.  
“Fela! Wake up!” Alistair shouted as he grabbed my shoulders. I wailed and struggled against his hold.  
“Fela!” Alistair shouted again, “Goddamnit! Where are those smelling salts! Wynne! Morrigan!” I groaned and wept.  
“Please, please stop,” I begged between sobs. I desperately struggled against the darkspawn, and thus against Alistair, who held me in a bear-hug.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you!?” Oghren yelled he saw Alistair wrestling me down while I screamed and wept hysterically.  
“Night terror,” Leliana said as she rushed past Oghren to help Alistair.  
“Night what!?” Oghren shouted in confusion. Sten bent his knees to put a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder.  
“Night terror,” he repeated, “severe nightmare that causes her to act out the dream.”  
“Well sodding let her, then! Why is he holding her down when she clearly doesn’t want him to!?” Oghren looked up at Sten defiantly, his hand moving to his axe.  
“She could harm herself,” Sten replied monotonously.

“Looks more like she is harming them, feisty little beast,” Oghren retorted as I slammed the back of my head into Alistair’s face and bit down on his arm in a desperate attempt to break free.

“Don’t interfere my short hairy friend,” Zevran said quietly, “she’ll explain it to you later. But now, you have to let them protect her against herself, they are helping her. This has happened before.”

Meanwhile Leliana took hold of my legs, but she didn’t have the weight to keep me from throwing her off. She landed a few feet away and rolled a little further before coming to a stop. Alistair struggled to wrap his legs around mine, but I was too nimble and pulled my legs up high whenever he tried to grab hold. He ended up with only one of my legs clenched between his. Finally, Wynne rushed over with smelling salts, but I kicked at her with my free leg whenever she got close enough. It took both Morrigan and Leliana to pin my free leg so Wynne could get the smelling salts under my nose.

I snapped back, ceasing my struggle. I was panting like I had run a marathon, my face was wet with tears and I could taste blood on my lips. It took me a moment to realise where I was, and what I had just done.

“Oh Maker, I’m so, so sorry,” I whispered, my voice broke as I started to weep quietly. Alistair’s grapple turned into a soft, comforting embrace. I tensed and quickly shook him off, standing up to back away, hugging myself. The dream was fresh in my mind, I couldn’t endure to let him touch me. His soft caresses, meant to comfort me, filled me with fear and disgust. I felt violated by it. I even backed away from Wynne and Leliana when they tried to hug me. I ended up next to Morrigan, who looked around helplessly, not knowing what to do. So, she awkwardly petted my head.

I fell to my knees beside her with my hands clutching my hair and got violently sick. My body convulsed with the effort of squeezing out my stomach and I felt my eyes bulge in their sockets. I nearly pissed myself due to the pressure of my contorting muscles. I let myself drop to the ground in foetal-position next to my puddle of vomit. I just wept for what seemed like an eternity, Morrigan stroking my head in silence. Leliana sang to me quietly while Wynne cleaned my face with a wet rag. Asher whined and nuzzled my ear with his snout.

Alistair just stood and stared, not knowing what to do, not understanding why I wouldn’t let him touch me while the women administered to me. Blood slowly trickled down his arm where I had bitten him, he barely even noticed it. He was too stunned and hurt, I had never retreated from him like this. Alistair couldn’t understand why I suddenly seemed afraid of him.

Kardol and his men had come running when they heard the commotion, Zevran and Oghren tried to explain that nobody was being murdered. They were hesitant to explain what had actually happened, dwarves don’t dream. They sleep like the Stone, as they say. What had just happened to me was difficult to explain to the alarmed dwarves, and they insisted that they talk to me before leaving. Zevran informed them that they would have to wait a while for me to pull myself together. No easy task after shattering into a million pieces. I kept reminding myself it hadn’t been real, that it was just a really shitty dream.

Recall when I explained that my dreams were so intense and realistic that I sometimes had trouble separating their memories from the real ones. This had felt real too, I had felt the pain, the rhythmic movements, my body changing into something corrupted. They had taken my humanity away from me, transforming me into some obscene atrocity of their making.

“I know,” I croaked, barely able to form a complete sentence, “I know what happens.” Leliana, Morrigan, and Wynne jumped when I forced out the words.  
“You know what child?” Wynne whispered as she tried to find my gaze. I was still on the ground in foetal-position, staring into the darkness beyond our camp.

“You’re ok now, we’re here,” she whispered while gently putting a hand on my cheek.  
“No… not ok…” I whispered back without moving my gaze. I was more whispering to myself than to Wynne.  
“What’s not ok? You can tell me, are you hurt?” Wynne asked gently.

I couldn’t figure out an answer to that question, was I hurt? My brain wasn’t working on full capacity yet, my mind had been paralysed with fear. I had retreated further than I ever had before, trying to convince myself that what I had just dreamt hadn’t happened to me. Splitting that part off and burying it deep in my subconscious. It had different plans though, and as a result, I couldn’t destroy the memory of what I had just happened. It was all in my head, my body was shaken but fine, and yet…

“Defiled,” I whispered, “violated.”  
“Is she in shock?” Morrigan asked while looking at Wynne.  
“Possibly,” the old mage responded while examining me. I squirmed under her touch but let her check my pulse, and the tension in my muscles.  
“She should be alright, physically. But psychologically… What on earth did she dream about?”

“Darkspawn,” Alistair said softly to answer Wynne’s question.

Morrigan, Leliana, and Wynne stared at him slack-jawed.  
I’ve never seen her respond like this to dreams about darkspawn…” Wynne trailed off. Alistair shook his head, clenching his fists at his sides. He had drawn the right conclusion.  
“She only responds like that, when she dreams she’s getting raped,” he said slowly, a horrified look in his eyes. I cringed at the word.  
“Oh my poor girl,” Wynne whispered in shock and put a hand on my shoulder. Morrigan’s eyes widened in revolt and Leliana quietly started to cry, a hand raised to her mouth.

“Darkspawn abduct women,” I said hoarsely, the horror and fear slowly faded and hot, black rage ripped wide open. I was starting to get my marbles back, and I was slowly regaining control of my faculties.  
“They rape them, change them,” I said slowly, pushing myself up from the ground with shaking arms and into a sitting position.  
“Not for control, or power. This is of a far more primal nature,” I took the canteen Wynne offered me and rinsed my mouth.  
“They change their victims fundamentally… into a creature like them. To reproduce,” I spoke the last words through clenched teeth.

“By the Maker…” Wynne gasped, Leliana said a quick prayer.

“This is a whole new risk…” Morrigan said quietly and marched off. Her face was ashen when she lowered her head and turned. I stared down at my hands on the stone, rage radiating off me like heat. Whatever was down here, I was going to kill it. And every single darkspawn in my way. My hatred for darkspawn took on a whole new dimension, this was passionate, a tempest of fury. I welcomed it, letting it burn away the feeling of shame, fear, despair, and hopelessness. I would not let myself be dehumanised.

***********************************************************

I looked up at Alistair with fierce determination. His nose was bleeding, he was covered in bruises and scratches, and his arm was still dripping with blood from where I had bitten him. I was shocked to see the damage I had done and my determination immediately turned to guilt.

“Alistair,” I yelped as I struggled to my feet, “I’m so sorry,” I staggered towards him and examined his arm.  
“No, you weren’t in control,” he whispered gently, running a hand along my upper arm. I had bruises too, from struggling against his hold. If I forced him too, he could take me in a vice-like grip. But that meant he needed to use so much force, he easily bruised me. It had happened before, when he dragged me out of the fight at Honnleath.

“I hurt you…” I whispered, “I don’t want to do that… ever.”  
“I know, my love. It’s ok,” Alistair whispered. He gave me a lopsided grin.  
“You fought like a bloody demon, there is no taking you down without a serious fight.” That earned him a chuckle.  
“Took the three of you, huh?”  
“And we _still_ needed Wynne, you monster,” Alistair replied and kissed my forehead.

I tensed, Alistair looked at me with confusion and concern. He lifted his hands to hold me but stopped halfway through the motion, not sure if he should touch me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, shocked at my own reaction to Alistair’s affection, “I- I just…”  
“It’s ok,” Alistair interrupted, “the dream is still fresh on your mind. I’ll just… give you space? Women like space right? Space sounds good, have you ever had space?” Alistair babbled until I started giggling.

“Ok, I get it. You don’t want to overstep a boundary,” I broke into a wry smile, “and you have no clue where they currently are.”  
“Yep, that’s me. Clueless. Silly Alistair, always putting his foot in his mouth,” he replied while rubbing the back of his neck.  
“Shush,” I said and took his hand tentatively, “calm down, take your foot out of your mouth, put it down, and help me find some water so I can clean myself up.”

What I meant by that was; I feel disgusting and want to scrub myself clean with a rough brush, soap, and scalding hot water.

We had no such luxury here, I had to make due with cold water and a rag. At least Kardol could point us to a larger body of water so I could actually bathe. He wanted an explanation of course. So while I tried to introduce the cranky dwarf to the concept of dreaming, Wynne took care of Alistair’s cuts, scrapes, and bite wounds. She was in no rush, because Kardol was either stupid, or too stubborn to accept new information.

* * *

“Ok, let’s start over,” I said, throwing my hands in the air, “when humans, elves, or Qunari sleep, we go to the Fade.”  
“Fade, alright,” Kardol said slowly.  
“The Fade is like a whole other realm that exists on a different plane. There are demons, and benevolent spirits. Mages are conscious in the Fade because of their magic, others can only snap into consciousness if they are forced into the Fade unwillingly. Our bodies stay here but our minds go there. Still with me?” I checked with Kardol, making gestures with my hands to clarify my words. Kardol nodded.

“Dream space, mages, demons, and spirits.” Good enough, I decided.  
“Yes, when we are asleep, our minds go to the Fade. Our minds drift through it, and to make sense of it, our minds come up with images and explanations for what we experience there. That is what we call dreaming.”  
“You do all that while you’re asleep?” Kardol asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Do demons sleep too?” one of his legionnaires asked with a raised hand.

“Our subconscious does that, the sleeping mind. It’s still active while we sleep but we aren’t aware of it when we are awake because the waking mind is in control. And no, demons don’t sleep,” I added while pointing at the legionnaire.  
“So where are their bodies?”  
“ _In_ the _Fade_! We’ve been over that!”  
“Why not sleep like the Stone, less of a hassle,” Kardol opted. I raised a hand to my forehead.

“We just don’t. Sleeping non-dwarves go to the Fade and dream because we’re like that. _Got_ _it!?_ ” The legionnaires nodded in unison.  
“The darkspawn share a hivemind, it’s like a group of people always knowing each other’s thoughts no matter where they are. It’s how the Archdemon controls them, it’s in charge of the hivemind. And darkspawn don’t seem to think a lot so they just listen,” I continued.  
“Mind control,” Kardol mumbled.  
“Sort of but it’s also used for communication. You know how darkspawn groups often have alpha’s and emissaries that call the shots, but they don’t talk? They do that through their hivemind, so everyone always knows what to do,” I explained.

“We should get a hivemind too,” one of the legionnaires remarked while nudging his companion.  
“It would save me from barking orders at you all day, maybe then you would remember and do your job!” Kardol snapped at his man.  
“That spider in the camp was _not_ my fault! And it happened only once!” the man countered.   
“One time is one too many! Or do you enjoy waking up in a spider’s cocoon ten feet off the ground!? Good to know, you’re on _bug_ _duty_ from now on!” Kardol barked and his man cringed at the prospect, it shut him up though.

“Anyway,” I said impatiently to get their attention back, “the hivemind is connected to the Fade. Maybe the sleeping mind stays in contact with it when we’re awake without the waking mind noticing, we don’t know. Doesn’t matter. The darkspawn are connected to the Fade. And Grey Wardens are connected to the darkspawn through the Taint, it’s why we can sense them. We have a link to their hivemind, we can peer into it but not communicate or give or receive orders. And when we go into the Fade, that link becomes stronger.”

Kardol nodded slowly, wrapping his mind around the concept of the Taint and the Fade combined giving Grey Wardens a link to the darkspawn.

“Ok, now comes the hard part. Sometimes, while a Grey Warden’s sleeping mind wanders the Fade, it encounters things involving darkspawn. And because the sleeping mind needs to make something out of that information, we end up dreaming about the darkspawn. Then we can see what they are doing, as if we were there,” I paused for a moment to let Kardol digest that.  
“So you can spy on them while you sleep?” he asked while rubbing his chin.  
“In a way, yes. But we’re not in control of when it happens or what we experience. That’s just kind of random,” I replied.  
“Sounds unpleasant,” Kardol mumbled.  
“Now you’re getting it! Randomly dreaming about what the darkspawn are doing is usually really fucked up. So when I dreamt about them just now, it was a very bad dream. We call those nightmares, it’s like you are experiencing something horrible, like a very violent death, the Archdemon swooping down, that sort of thing,” I replied.

Kardol nodded slowly again.  
“So what do you call the good dreams?”  
“Just dreams.”  
“Can you choose what you dream?” he asked curiously.  
“No,” I replied, briefly considered explaining the concept of lucid dreaming, and quickly decided against it.  
“What if a dwarf became a Grey Warden, could he go to the Fade too?” he continued.  
“I don’t know, I’ve never known a dwarven Grey Warden, or whether the Taint has the same effects,” I replied.  
“So when you were dreaming earlier… about darkspawn, you just went crazy?” he asked with squinted eyes.

“No, I did not _just_ go crazy! Sometimes, when a dream is really intense, a person can act it out in the real world. I was having a very intense dream about being attacked by a large group while I was alone and unarmed, so I was fighting for my life,” I explained, hoping it would make sense to him. I didn’t feel like telling him I just got gang raped by darkspawn in the Fade.

“And your sleeping mind went crazy in the Fade, but your body was still here,” Kardol summarised, “so you went nuts, blondie over there held you down, and you screamed your head off. But now you’re awake and you’re fine, because your… erm… what was it? Waking mind? is in control now.” I let out a sigh of relief.  
“Yes, now you get it.”  
“Did quite a number on him too, good on you lass,” Kardol said with a wide grin while watching Wynne patching Alistair up.

Finally he gave me directions and he and his men left. Oghren had passed out drunk, so I decided I could skip explaining myself to him for now. I waited for Wynne to finish patching up Alistair, I didn’t want to go alone.

Yes, I was terrified to go into the tunnels by myself. Not to mention it would be stupid.

Leliana, Wynne, and Asher came along too. I felt better with a couple of people around me, safer. They had all seen my tits before anyway, and I wasn’t exactly shy. I had no problem bathing with three people and a dog around me to keep watch. I scrubbed myself until skin was raw and red, but clean. All the while I wept quietly. Asher stuck to me like glue, even entering the water with me so he could stay as close as possible. Wynne was delighted at the opportunity to give Asher a bath, which Asher endured just so he could stay near his mistress. The bath helped to wash the blood and gore off, but I still felt sullied. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn’t get rid of that feeling. Wynne eventually warned me there wouldn’t be any skin left if I kept going at it like that. So I followed her advice, dried myself off, and got dressed.

Morrigan was waiting for us when we came back. She had prepared a vial of poison for herself, Wynne, Leliana, and me. She explained that, should we be taken, we would still have a way out. Death was better. Alistair did not like the idea of me carrying poison I could use in case of an emergency, but the alternative was infinitely worse. To me, the poison felt like reassurance, some form of control. I didn’t dare sleeping anymore, so I asked Sten to help me meditate.

He was such a patient mentor to me, and that says a lot about the big grumpy Qunari. I didn’t know how I would ever thank him properly. He didn’t ask about the dream, he admitted having trouble to fully relate and not knowing how to respond properly. So instead, he would help me meditate and rest my mind. It was the best way he knew to help. We still needed to find Branka, and I wasn’t about to give up. Especially now that I knew what darkspawn did with the women they took.

* * *

The next day, we prepared to cross the bridge. Meaning we had breakfast in silence, sharpened our weapons and maintained our armor.

I stuck close to Alistair like I had done in the last few days. He, and the rest of our companions, made sure I wasn’t alone for even a second. They all did their best to maintain an air of normality while looking after me. I felt loved. These people would go to the end of the world for me. I hadn’t thought I would find that again after losing my family. They could rest easy, knowing I had so many good people looking after me.

They helped me put myself back together as best I could, I wasn’t looking forward to facing the darkspawn again. But I figured that killing a bunch of them would help make me feel better. I was armed now, and I had eight armed lunatics with me, plus Asher. Ok Shale wasn’t really armed, but it was certainly a lunatic and it really didn’t need any weapons, it _was_ a weapon.

Kardol and his men remained behind, they needed to hold the line. They did us the curtesy of scouting ahead though, and they gave us a headcount. There were two ogres on the other side, at least two emissaries, a dozen archers, and four alpha’s, each leading a group of six. Oghren laughed, spat, and remarked that should even the odds.

Personally, I didn’t like the odds that much. They could easily swarm us with numbers like that. We could try using the bridge to create a bottleneck but that would leave us open to the archers. Shale could be send ahead, aided by Leliana, Morrigan, and Wynne, but there were still two ogres to deal with. Sneaking up on them wasn’t an option, it’s not that hard to watch a bridge, even for darkspawn.

So, we decided we would have to make the darkspawn come to us. I took Morrigan, Leliana, and Zevran halfway across the bridge. The darkspawn saw us, but we weren’t enough of a threat to come running. That gave us time to identify the alpha’s, enraging them would hopefully result in them charging us. Meanwhile the four of us would retreat to get out of the archers’ range. Then Shale would move forward and knock as many off the bridge as it could before the rest of them reached us. We would take care of the rest before moving forward. Shale would go first, we would stay close behind it with Alistair and Sten at both sides carrying shields. That would allow Morrigan to cast area of effect spells to disrupt the archers. Once they were scattered, Alistair, Oghren, Zevran, Sten, Asher, and I would go for the ogres. Wynne, Morrigan, and Leliana would kill the emissaries.

Zevran motioned for us to crouch and stay low, there was no need for us to seem threatening until we got close enough to hit the alpha’s. Leliana and Zevran would use a bow, Morrigan would use ranged spells. I carried three javelins, archery wasn’t my strong suit, javelin-throwing however, I was good at. I could easily throw a javelin over a hundred feet from a standing position and still hit my target. I used to practice regularly until Howe betrayed us. I was used to javelins of at least six-and-a-half feet long. Right now, I was carrying dwarf-sized javelins, curtesy of Kardol, about as tall as I was, a little over five-and-a-half feet.

I had taken a few test throws before we took our position on the bridge.   
“Morrigan, can you hit that alpha on our left?” I asked in a whisper.   
“The one with the great-axe?” she replied and I nodded.   
“Leliana and Zevran, you take those too,” I said pointing at two alpha’s standing at the far end of the cavern, “I’ll take that one over there,” I pointed straight ahead where one alpha had taken up position to survey the bridge.   
“Fire when I let go of the javelin, ready?”   
“Ready,” my companions whispered in unison.

I stood up straight. Two javelins leaning against a makeshift wooden barrier and one in my hand. The alpha I was targeting looked my way, watching me as I weighed the javelin in my hand, planting my feet firmly on the ground. The alpha was seizing me up now, probably trying to guess how far I could throw the javelin from there. I waited for the alpha to lose interest and relax. Leliana and Zevran nocked their arrows and I felt Morrigan radiating energy next to me. They tensed as I moved one foot back, taking a firm grip on the javelin. I leaned back and threw my torso forward, moving the javelin high over my shoulder and releasing it.

The javelin flew through the air in a graceful arc, I could see the alpha’s eyes widen as it realised its miscalculation. It was too late for it to move out of the way, the tip of the javelin plunged into its chest, running it through. Morrigan hurled a fireball towards her target, it went down shrieking and howling. Leliana’s target dropped to the ground motionlessly, an arrow sticking out of its chest. Zevran’s arrow hit armor, but we didn’t necessarily need them all dead right away. The darkspawn started pouring onto the bridge in a charge led by the remaining alpha.

“Move back,” I commanded, Zevran and Morrigan moved quickly while Leliana and I remained. She kept unloading arrows on them and I threw my second javelin.

Shale dashed forward, the thundering sounds of its footsteps telling us it was time to move while Morrigan and Zevran covered us.

We reached the others as soon as the darkspawn that made it past Shale caught up to us. I used my remaining javelin as a staff, spinning it around and hitting as many bodies as I could. As my victims dropped to the ground, Asher pounced on them to bite at their throats. I leapt forward, plunged my javelin into a darkspawn’s chest, sending it down on its back and using my momentum to jump and slam into the next feet first, using my javelin as an anchor lodged firmly into a darkspawn chest. I pulled it free and struck two more with a two-handed swing, ducking into the motion and rolling sideways to evade a broadsword coming down from above. I slammed the javelin into the backs of my attacker’s knees and stabbed it as it went down.

By the Maker I _loved_ javelins.

I slowly moved forward over the bridge with a series of leaps, cartwheels, and pirouettes. All the while kicking and wielding the javelin, spinning and twisting it to kill any darkspawn that engaged me. My companions followed, ranged attackers staying back while we cleared the bridge so we could reach Shale. It was happily kicking darkspawn into the depths below when we caught up. We got into formation and started moving forward again. Morrigan cast a misdirection hex on the archers and Wynne cast a mass rejuvenation spell to help us keep our strength up. The archers went down relatively easily, the ogres had little regard for their kin and stomped through them.

Our formation broke as Shale barrelled into the first row of archers, I hopped through them, stabbing any prone darkspawn with my javelin. I saw an ogre charging from the corner of my eye and ducked out of the way. It charged right into Shale, but the massive stone golem wasn’t fazed by it, it took the ogre head on and started a wrestling match. I followed quickly, and jammed the javelin in the back of the ogre’s knee. I drew my swords and used the javelin to climb the ogre.

I jammed both of them down in the space above its collarbone. The creature howled as I pulled one out, using the other to hold on to the struggling beast, and brought it down again. Stabbing into it until it finally started to stumble back and fall. I jumped off, leaving one of my swords imbedded deeply into its flesh. I got to my feet and pulled my blade out just in time before Shale body-slammed the prone ogre. It held up a hand for me to high-five it.

“Nice,” Shale remarked before getting up and charging the next ogre. It was driving Sten and Alistair back by wildly swinging its massive fists at them. Shale took advantage of the moment and crashed into the ogre’s back. Alistair and Sten brought their swords down on it as it hit the ground.

We took out the remaining darkspawn swiftly after that. I was very pleased with how our assault had turned out. Shale was like a one-man army.   
“Have I told you how _glad_ I am that you decided to take the Honnleath-detour?” I asked Alistair as we watched Shale stomp anything that moved back into the ground.   
“Looks like Shale feels the same way, that is one happy golem,” he replied with a grin.

Indeed, Shale gave us the golem-equivalent of a broad smile when it noticed us watching it. It gave us a wave too before smashing another head.

“Are you ok?” Alistair asked with a side-ways glance.   
“I’m fine, I’ve got you guys,” I replied and slipped my hand into his.

He was wearing gauntlets of course but it was good enough for us. Wynne patched up Oghren and Zevran before we continued further into the Dead Trenches. I helped Shale to rub off some of the blood and gore it was covered in, for a stone golem it was actually pretty serious about personal hygiene. Meticulous even. Leliana helped too, she had been getting along with the golem. They shared a keen interest in shiny things. And while Leliana came off as sweet and innocent, I had seen her commit murder in cold blood countless times. Another thing Shale liked, though it preferred smashing and crushing things whereas we preferred stabbing, cutting, and in Leliana’s case, shooting things.


	34. Branka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group finds another lead on Branka, and manages to find her. Sort of. It's more like walking into her trap, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It won't be super triggery, but there will be some mention of rape by darkspawn. But you get a lot of violence in return so... I don't know, maybe that's makes up for it a little.

We slowly made our way through the Dead Trenches, fighting darkspawn every step of the way. The fort consisted of several bridges crossing large chasms. When we were crossing the second bridge, we got ambushed by shrieks while darkspawn closed in on us from both sides.

We ended up fighting back to back to keep them off us. At the other side, we faced two more ogres guarding a large door. To get the key, we needed to enter the mausoleum. And of course, as soon as we grabbed the key, spirits started attacking us. When we finally opened the door and entered the interior of the fort, we started hearing a soft, low voice reciting a bone-chilling rhyme.

_First day they come, and catch everyone._

We all stopped dead in our tracks.

_Second day they beat us, and eat some for meat._

“Merciful Andraste,” Alistair whispered under his breath as he looked at me. I stood nailed to the ground, that chant, I had been hearing it in my dreams, we both had.

_Third day the men are all gnawed on again._

It send a shiver down my spine, the others were hearing it too.   
“Fourth day we wait and fear for our fate,” I whispered along with the echoes that carried the chant.   
“Fifth day they return and it’s another girl’s turn,” I started walking, following the voice. The smell of rot and decay got stronger with every step.   
“Sixth day it’s her screams we hear in our dreams,” I picked up the pace and turned a corner. The corruption I had felt ever since we entered the Deep Roads was ever more present here, fleshy sacks and gore covered the hallways. The stench of rotting flesh was overpowering, and caused us all to gasp and gag. I kept moving.   
“Seventh day she grew as in her mouth they spew.”

“Fela, wait,” Alistair grabbed my arm, “we don’t know what we’re walking into.” I looked back at him.   
“It’s here,” I whispered.

_Eighth day we hated as she is violated._

“What’s here?” Alistair asked, not letting go of my arm and observing me closely.

_Ninth day she grins, and devours her kin._

He put both of his hands on my shoulders when I didn’t reply, I was listening intently, trying to localise the source of the voice we were hearing. At least those nasty sacks of... whatever that was, kept the sound from echoing off the walls. But if I had been hearing this chant in my dreams... shouldn't it be connected to the Taint? I closed my eyes for a moment, searching for anything that didn't feel like darkspawn in the vibrations of the Taint that caused the buzzing in my skull. It was like sifting through the bottom of a fast flowing river, anything I dug up washed away quickly, but I got... something. Something like Ruck, but... different.

“We should be careful, it could be a trap,” Alistair urged as I opened my eyes. 

_Now she does feast, as she’s become the beast._

Something in my mind clicked.

“Broodmother,” I whispered in unison with the voice echoing off the walls.

I shook myself free and started running, sprinting through the hallways of the fort and leaping over the fleshy gore covering portions of the ground. I knew where the voice was coming from now, Alistair and the rest followed as quickly as they could.

I came to a halt when I found her, a dwarf, sitting on her haunches and picking at the shapeless mounds of flesh in front of her. Her skin was discoloured, so pale it was nearly grey and covered in black blotches. Her eyes were sunken, pale too, like she had cataract. She didn’t make any eye contact, her posture was crooked, hands clutched in front of her.

She reminded me of Ruck, we had found him in Ortan Thaig before we made it to the Dead Trenches. He had gotten tainted and gone mad, but this looked different somehow. The way she sat, hunched with her head held sideways, the uncoordinated movements of her limbs, that reminded me of Ruck. But the way she spoke… Ruck, while strangely poetic at times, had barely been able to form a correct sentence. But this woman, she spoke relatively coherently while she looked far worse than Ruck had.

“A human?” she asked curiously, “no… impossible, feeding time only brings kin and clan. I am cruel to myself, you are a dream of stranger’s faces and open doors.”

I knelt down in front of her.   
“Is this darkspawn corruption? It looks… different…” I asked as the others caught up to me.   
“Sodding Stone, that’s Hespith!” Oghren gasped.   
“Maker’s breath Fela! You don’t run off like that, what’s gotten into you!?” Alistair snapped at me.

“Corruption,” Hespith gasped, and the others fell silent as she continued to speak, “the men did that, their wounds festered and their minds left. They are like dogs, marched ahead, first to die. Not us, not me, not Laryn. We are not cut. We are fed. Friends, and flesh, and blood, and bile, and… And, all I could do was wish Laryn went first. I wished it upon her so that, I would be spared. But I had to watch… I had to see the change. How do you endure that, how did Branka endure?”

“What change? What are they doing?” I encouraged Hespith gently, “you can tell me.”   
“What they are… allowed, to do. What they think they must, and Branka… her lover and I could not turn her, forgive her. But no, she cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she, has become.”   
“What did she do Hespith? What did Branka do?” I asked through clenched teeth, tears started to well up in my eyes as the dream came back to me.

“I- I will not speak, of her. What she did, of what we have become, I will _not_ turn!” Hespith’s voice suddenly became forceful, “I will not become what I have seen. Not Laryn, _not Branka!_ ” and with that she ran off.

I didn’t follow her this time.

“What was she talking about!?” Oghren demanded of no one in particular. The pieces were falling into place, slowly but surely.   
“I might have a bone to pick with Branka,” I said and turned to Alistair. 

“Branka has allowed the darkspawn to take the women. She allowed them to rape them, violate and abuse them. To turn them into broodmothers. She has sacrificed her clan and kin. Condemned them to a fate worse than death.” I said evenly.

“You can’t know that for certain,” Alistair said in a calm voice, “Hespith could have been mad, darkspawn corruption does strange things to a mind.”   
“You heard her poem Alistair, you’ve had the dreams, this is no coincidence,” I countered.   
“I just don’t want to jump to any conclusions before we find her,” Alistair said firmly. Ever the voice of reason, but I wasn’t willing to listen at the moment.

“Oh, we’ll find her. And I think I might know how to find the bitch. Follow me,” I marched off in the same direction as Hespith, Asher on my heels.   
“What’s gotten into you?” Wynne called after me.   
“You’ll see,” I said grimly, turned, and motioned for the others to follow. It was clear now, I could sense the source of the omnipresent corruption around me. And it led me right to it.

* * *

We found the broodmother.

I took a few involuntary steps back when I saw it. It was a huge fleshy monstrosity with far too many tits, if you can call them that. The creature had vertical rows of saggy, but swollen breasts. The creature seemed to be lodged into the stone, its short arms rested on the many folds of flesh. The skin on its face was split between its nose and what remained of its upper lip, pulled tight around the skull. The flesh was discoloured, it looked as if it had been flayed and covered in slime. Every inch of its body looked infected, red, swollen, and oozing pus. Fleshy tentacles sprouted from its body, the flesh so terribly misshapen and distorted that it only barely resembled the dwarf it once was.

This was what darkspawn did to the women they took. _This_ was the change that Hespith had spoken off, the missing piece from my dreams. We had no time to discuss tactics. The broodmother attacked and we were forced into the battle.

Sten and Oghren hacked at the tentacles in an effort to sever them. The broodmother had taken hold of Zevran and would have crushed him if Oghren hadn’t come in time. Zevran fell to the ground like a ragdoll, immediately dragged to safety by Sten so Wynne could stabilize him. Shale roared it had never encountered a flesh creature quite as squishy as this one before. Every time the golem hit it, its flaps of fat swayed back and forth. It attempted to grab Shale’s arm with one of its tentacles, but Shale ripped the tentacle off and continued pounding on the broodmother. While Wynne took care of Zevran, Morrigan covered them, the broodmother had summoned darkspawn to swarm us. She and Leliana picked them off one by one while the rest of us went for the broodmother.

After the initial shock, I had gone into an adrenaline fuelled frenzy. Slashing at tentacles coming near me and cutting the broodmother to shreds. It would have looked much more impressive if the broodmother hadn’t been so _large_. I was so small in comparison that I wasn’t dealing a whole lot of damage. But I figured that would be remedied once I got deep enough.

I kept hacking and slashing through its layers of fat until I reached its abdomen. I was covered in blood and gore from head to toe when I stabbed through the abdominal wall, I jerked my blade sideways to cut it open. My blade slipped from my hand, the blood was making it impossible to get a good grip. But I made a gash about three feet long, and a flood of blood and guts came pouring out.

Missing one blade, the broodmother finally got one of its tentacles around my waist. It didn't matter that I was slippery with its own innards, the tentacle wrapped tightly around my midsection. I kicked and cut at it with my remaining sword in an attempt to make it let go. Instead it shrieked and crushed harder, I screamed in agony until the pressure on my lungs got too heavy to produce any other sound than weak pitiful gasps. I felt one of my lower ribs crack and my organs being squished to places where they had no business being. My eyes bulged out of my sockets and my scream got suffocated.

I hit the ground, hard.

Gasping for air desperately I got up on my hands and knees. Alistair pulled me up straight by my collar to help me suck air back into my lungs. We both got knocked aside by another tentacle sweeping across the cavern. Alistair rolled and recovered quickly, his armor took most of the blow and weighed him down. I was lighter and smaller and was swept back against a wall. I hit the back of my head and fell down on my stomach. The air was pushed from my lungs once more and the sides of my vision were turning black.

I rolled onto my back, some instinct remembered that it would be easier to breath that way, and sucked in air desperately. The pain that came with the effort was blinding.

_Cracked ribs_

I realised. Either from the tentacle that tried to crush me or being slammed into a wall, but most probably both. One benefit of being in pain that is often overlooked, is that sudden agony tends to snap you out of a daze. Like a slap to the face, or a bone crushing blow to your ribs and then sucking in breath like you are choking. Which you kind of are. It cleared my head though. Sort of, I was still in dire need of breath. But I remembered I was in battle, and that the current objective was to murder a broodmother before it murdered us.

My world spun when I carefully pushed myself up. I shook my head to clear it, it made the spinning worse. This was going to be a bitch of a concussion. I staggered onto my hands and knees gingerly, still sucking in desperate breaths to recover from the blow. I was still in danger, there was no time to waste on being confused. Asher nudged me with his snout and whined, trying to get me out of my daze.

I found my sword with my right hand, my vision cleared a bit as my hand wrapped around the hilt. I could vaguely make out the broodmother, still fighting Shale, Sten, Alistair, and Oghren. Wynne, Leliana, Morrigan, and the slightly recovered Zevran, attacked from a distance with arrows and magic. I crawled forward, the broodmother had gotten enough tentacles around Shale, who had started tearing at the many folds of nasty flesh instead of pounding on them, that it couldn’t break free. Alistair and Oghren were forced to keep the darkspawn off Sten while he kept attacking the broodmother. I struggled to my feet and charged.

Though, 'stumbled' might have been a more apt description of those first few steps. I only kept moving because I would have fallen on my face if I hadn’t kept putting one foot in front of the other. I found my balance though, pulled another sword from a body mid-dash and stormed the broodmother.

I leapt over Oghren, using him as a ramp, and climbed up onto Sten’s shoulders to leap at the broodmother with a scream. I drove my swords into the broodmother’s chest, pulled one of them back and held on with the other as it struggled to shake me off. Somehow, I managed to find my footing in the many folds of flesh, somehow, hanging on a little more securely.

I stabbed it again, higher this time, at its throat. It made a gurgling sound and spat blood as I pulled the blade back, I had punctured its windpipe. I angled my blade upward under its jaw and thrust upwards as hard as I could into its skull, scrambling with my feet to gain more purchase and exert enough force to push the sword further. I ended up twisting my foot into one of the loose flaps of skin, or fat, or whatever. It allowed me to push myself up, pushing through the jaw and into the broodmother’s brain. It stopped moving.

I let myself drop to the ground and sunk to my knees. Barely aware of the remaining darkspawn currently being taking care of by my companions.

I was breathing fast, close to hyperventilating and shaking like a leaf. Both of my rapiers were still embedded deeply in the broodmother. I crawled forward on hand and knees and reached my hand into the massive gut-wound I had created, searching for my sword. I had been rather satisfied with the damage up until that point, cutting the abdominal wall meant that some of its organs had slipped out. I had to move them aside, reaching deep to find the hilt of my rapier.

It took me a while to get a good grip, it was so slippery I ended up curling my fingers around the guard and hooking it. When I finally got my blade out, I looked up and saw my companions staring at me. Only then did it occur to me what I looked like, bathed in broodmother blood, on my knees and digging in its flesh, moving aside organs to fish out a rapier. I was crying. Alistair knelt down in front of me.

“You did it my love, its ok now.”

He gently took my rapier from my shaking hands and put it down next to me, lest I cut myself. I stared at him with wide eyes, I was still close to hyperventilating and shaking. Meanwhile, Shale reached up and carefully pulled my other sword out of the broodmother’s head. It knelt too, though it was still huge, and put the blade down with the other.

“Here, I thought it might want its other sharp pointy thing too,” Shale said gently. Then I looked at the dead broodmother again, _Laryn_. Her name was Laryn, she was a dwarven woman from house Branka, not this monster, not anymore. My breathing slowed back to a normal pace, killing her had been a mercy. I looked back at Alistair, he had taken my hands in his.

“Laryn,” I whispered, “may she return to the Ancestors.” Alistair and Shale nodded solemnly.

“That’s where they come from. That’s why they hate us… that’s why they need us. That’s why they take us… that’s why they feed us,” came Hespith’s voice from a ledge up high, “but the true abomination… is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed. Branka… my love… The Stone has punished me, dream-friend, I am dying of something worse than death. Betrayal.” Hespith turned and disappeared.

I wanted to go after her, but we wouldn’t be able to climb up from here. So we let her go, there was no saving her anyway. I just hoped she would be able to stay out of darkspawn claws

I saw Leliana crying, Sten awkwardly petting her back, saying, “there, there.” He just stood awkwardly when she threw her arms around his waist, crying against his chest. Then awkwardly petted her head. Wynne was tending to Zevran again, but I could see the profoundly disturbed look on her face. Morrigan wasn’t in sight. Oghren sat on the ground, leaned back against a wall, quietly sipping from his flask, his eyes hazy. Asher sat next to me, leaning his head against my shoulder.

We were all speechless for a while, Alistair led us away from the dead broodmother eventually. After Morrigan turned up and Zevran was able to walk on his own. I could tell she had been crying too, but she held her head high. She suggested we go and find some water, I was covered in blood from head to toe, as were Oghren, Alistair, Shale, Asher, and Sten. We all agreed to her suggestion unanimously. No such luck, or at least luck of some other kind.

* * *

We didn’t find water, we found Branka instead. As we entered another large cavern, a large wall went up behind us.

“What was that?” Oghren looked behind him, startled at the sudden noise. We were all on edge after the broodmother, and I heard several voices curse and complain. I stared at the wall that had gone up behind us, why didn’t we see it before? Leliana and Zevran had been keeping an eye out for traps, and it looked like we just walked straight into one.

“Let me be blunt,” came a voice from the other side of the cavern, “after all this time, my tolerance for social graces is limited. That doesn’t bother you, I hope,” Branka stood on a ridge, way out of reach.   
“Shave my back and call me an elf, Branka!? By the Stone, I hardly recognised you!” Oghren exclaimed happily, taking a few steps forward.

It was probably a good thing I had no javelins any more, I would have thrown them at her without hesitation.

“ _You!-_ ” I started, but Alistair put a hand on my shoulder.   
“Wait,” he said firmly.

“Oghren, it figures you’d eventually find your way here. Hopefully, you can find your way back more easily,” Branka’s voice was cold and she stared down at Oghren with eyes full of disdain.   
“And how shall I address you?” Branka asked turning to Alistair and me, “hired swords of the latest Lordling come looking for me? Or just the only ones who didn’t mind Oghren’s ale-breath?”   
“Be respectful woman, you’re talking to Grey Wardens!” Oghren snapped at her.   
“Ah, so some important errand boys then,” Branka replied mockingly, “I suppose something serious has happened. Is Endrin dead?” she started pacing, “that seems most likely, he was on the old and wheezy-side.”

“How do you know we’re not just helping Oghren?” Alistair asked before I could open my mouth again.   
“Then what is your involvement in this? What interest would a surfacer have in dwarven politics?” Branka asked scathingly. “You must have a patron,” she continued, “a highly placed patron. And they must want something in particular. Now, what might that be? I don’t care if the Assembly puts a drunken monkey on the throne. Because our protector, our great invention, the thing that once made our armies the envy of the world, is lost to the very darkspawn it should be fighting!” Branka’s rant was starting to get more intense now, “The Anvil of the Void! The means by which the ancients forged their army of golems and held off the first Archdemon to ever rise! It’s here, so close I can taste it!”

“So what are you doing standing there?” I snapped before anyone else could beat me to it, “you’re clearly not forging any golems, what’s keeping you?” Branka gave me a joyless smile.   
“The Anvil lies on the other side of a gauntlet of traps designed by Caridin himself. My people and I have given body and soul to unlock its secrets.”   
“Body and soul!?” I roared, “ _body_ and soul!? I don’t know about your soul, but you sure as shit haven’t given your body! Have you seen Laryn and Hespith lately!? What’s left of the men you brought here!? You _fucking_ maniac!” Branka looked at me as if I were a child throwing a tantrum.   
“ _T_ _his_ is what’s important, _this_ has lasting meaning. If I succeeded, the dwarven people benefit. Kings… politics… that is all transitory.”   
“What you did to Laryn has lasting meaning! What you did to Hespith!” I retorted, shaking Alistair’s hand off my shoulder and stepping forward.   
“I have given everything, and would sacrifice _anything_ to get the Anvil of the Void!” Branka screamed back.   
“Then you are bloody insane! You demented fool!” I screamed back at her.

“Completely off her rocker,” Zevran agreed.

“Enough!” Branka shrieked, “If you wish me to get involved in this imbecilic election, I must first have the Anvil!” She took a deep breath to calm herself before she continued, “there is only one way out Warden, forward. Through Caridin’s maze and out to where the Anvil waits.” Her voice was cold as ice.   
“What has this place done to you?” Oghren said in exasperation, “I remember marrying a girl you could talk to for one minute and see her brilliance!” Branka looked at him blankly.   
“I am your Paragon.” Then she turned and walked out of sight.

“That went about as well as could be expected,” Morrigan remarked dryly.   
“She’s insane… Branka… she…” Leliana whispered and trailed off.   
“I would scold you for making her mad, but I think there was never any chance she would let us out of here… We mean nothing to her, and look what she did to the ones that did…” Alistair said, shaking his head. I looked at Oghren, he was still staring at the ledge where Branka had stood, and he looked hopping mad.   
“Branka you sodding nug-tail…” he muttered under his breath before taking another swig from his flask.

“Well then… we’re not going that way,” I motioned back towards the wall Branka had used to trap us, “let’s go get her that blasted Anvil and get out of here.” My companions gave me confused looks.   
“You still want to go after her? And do what she asks?” Wynne asked slowly. I shrugged.   
“The only way out is forward, unless you know of a way to take that massive stone wall down.”   
“She’s right,” Alistair added, “we can’t stay here, we either take our chances with the gauntlet, or stay here and starve. If we even live long enough to starve.”

“I do hope there is water in that gauntlet,” Morrigan remarked dryly before following Alistair and me. The rest eventually trailed after us.

* * *

As Branka had said, there were numerous traps. But there were also a _whole_ lot of darkspawn.

Branka explained as she watched us go through the ordeal, she had let Laryn be turned into a broodmother so she would have an endless supply of darkspawn she could send into the gauntlet, triggering the traps. That wasn’t enough though, we needed to cross a room filled with poisonous gas, and darkspawn aren’t familiar with the concept of pipes and valves.

Oghren was though, he quickly pointed the valves out so we could shut them before we choked.

Just our luck that we were attacked by the golems lining the room. Try fighting something made of stone or metal. I've said it before, it would be easy for a golem to outlast us in every way. I did so agree with Shale on our squishiness in that moment. On top of that, these golems were quite a bit larger than Shale. We were lucky they didn’t activate all at once. But they did eventually 'break' if we hit them often enough. I hated chipping rock with my rapiers, I really did, but the alternative was kiting the golems around the room until they caught up and squashed me. 

In the next room there were more golems, they activated in pairs, flanking us as we made our way through the room. Somehow, these dwarves had managed to make undetectable traps, I didn’t like it. Luckily, Morrigan figured out that the golems were susceptible to paralysation spells. It’s a lot easier to fight a stone statue when it’s not moving and swinging rocky fists at you. Though I would have liked to have a pickaxe at that moment, blunting my blades on the stone wasn’t doing any good. Which meant I was, in fact, mostly kiting them, letting them chase me around while the larger and sturdier of our companions chipped away at them. I still hit them a lot though, I needed to keep their attention in this particular situation.

After that, we encountered what I could only identify as some sort of Spirit Apparatus. Four huge stone faces, surrounded by four anvils, hung from the ceiling. Spitting spirits. Not kidding, that's what it did, vomiting spirits to attack us.

Fighting the spirits wasn’t so bad, but the stone faces just kept spitting new ones. Finally, Wynne noticed the anvils surrounding the Spirit Apparatus were glowing and that we could use them to fire some sort of spirit blast at the faces. Which started to bleed from their eyes when they were spent.

I had no clue how stone could bleed, but, if anything, this wasn’t just regular stone. So who cares if it bled, it did plenty of other weird things it shouldn’t be doing.

The earth and stone around us shook when the Spirit Apparatus finally stopped doing things that stone shouldn’t be doing, and went still. I really can’t say if it was dead, or deactivated, or something else. It stopped attacking, that was good enough. We moved on, tired, bruised, cut, and bleeding.

Finally we made it into the last cavern, like the cavern that Orzammar was built in, this one had lava streaming down from crevices in the rock, pooling into a huge lake below. Golems were lined up from the doorframe to a single metal golem standing in the middle of the plateau. It stretched out high over the lake, leading up to the Anvil of the Void. Blue light shone from narrow crevices in the metal, it could only have been cast by lyrium. It had the same colour as the lyrium veins we had come across numerous times since we entered the Deep Roads. We slowly approached the metal golem, keeping an eye on the other golems surrounding us, just in case they attacked. Then, the large metal golem spoke.

“My name is Caridin,” it said in a hollow echoing voice.

Oh. _Shit_.

“Once, longer than I care to think, I was a Paragon to the dwarves of Orzammar.”   
“Caridin? Paragon smith? Alive?” Shale asked with a shock, it had been the first thing it had said since it pulled my rapier from the broodmother’s head.   
“Ah. There is a voice I recognise, Shayle of the house of Cadash. Step forward,” Caridin replied in a friendly tone.   
“You… know my name. Is it you that forged me, then? Is it you who gave me my name?” Shale asked hesitantly.   
“Have you forgotten, then?” Caridin asked and sighed, “it has been so long.” He paused before continuing.

“I made you into the golem you are now, Shayle, but before that, you were a dwarf… just as I was. The finest warrior to serve King Valtor, and the only woman to volunteer.” “The only woman, a dwarf?” Shale mused in surprise.   
“I laid you on the Anvil of the Void, here in this very room, and put you into the form you now possess,” Caridin explained.

_I_ _bloody_ _knew_ _it!_ Golems were made from living people, that’s why Shale seemed so much like a person, she _was_ a person.

“The Anvil of the Void, that is what we seek,” Shale said slowly.   
“If you seek the Anvil, then you must care for my story, or be doomed to relive it,” Caridin replied solemnly. 

“You made the Anvil,” Alistair said with a nod.   
“Though I made many things in my time, I rose to fame and earned my status based on a single item: the Anvil of the Void,” Caridin affirmed.   
“It allowed me to forge a man of steel or stone, as flexible and clever as any soldier. As an army, they were invincible. But I told no one the cost,” he continued, “no mere smith, however skilled, has the power to create life. To make my golems live, I had to take their lives from elsewhere.”

“Sounds like blood magic. A dangerous road,” Alistair mumbled, the Templar in him must be having a seizure right now.

“The darkspawn were pressing in. Originally, I only took volunteers, the bravest of souls willing to trade their very lives for the chance to defend their homeland,” Caridin explained, “but King Valtor became greedy, he began to force men… casteless and criminals… his political enemies… all of them were given to the Anvil. It took feeling the hammer’s blow myself to realise the height of my crimes.” “So, what now? Do you want revenge?” Alistair asked suspiciously. “Not revenge. The blow of the hammer opened my eyes. My apprentices knew enough to make me as I am, but not enough to fashion a control rod, I retained my mind,” Caridin turned to Shale, “you were amongst the most loyal, Shayle. You remained at my side throughout, and at the end I sent you away out of mercy.”

“I… do not remember,” Shale said with sadness in her voice.   
“We have remained entombed here ever since, and I have sought a way to destroy the Anvil. Alas, I cannot do it myself, no golem can touch it,” Caridin explained. He was just about to ask one of us to do it when Branka stormed in.

“No! the Anvil is mine! You will not take it from me!” she shrieked.   
“Shayle,” Caridin said pleadingly, “you fought to destroy the Anvil once. Do not allow it to fall into unthinking hands again!” Shale stepped forward.   
“You speak of things I do not remember. You say we fought… did you use our control rods to command us to do so?” she asked motioning at the golems around us.   
“I destroyed the rods!” Caridin exclaimed, “perhaps my apprentices eventually learned to replace the rods, I do not know, but if so, then all they need is the Anvil to make all the slaves they need!” Then he turned to Alistair.

“You! Please… help me destroy the Anvil, Do not let it enslave more souls than it already has!” Caridin pleaded. Alistair looked from Caridin, to Branka, and to me. I gave him a slight nod, the Anvil _had_ to be destroyed. We both knew it. The prospect of an army of golems was tempting, and destroying it could cost us Branka’s cooperation, if she was going to give it at all. But this could not continue. And we could not walk away empty handed.

“You were a Paragon,” Alistair said slowly, “I’ll help you, if you support a new King.”

“Don’t listen! He has been trapped in here for a thousand years, stewing in his own madness! Help me claim the Anvil, and you’ll have an army like you’ve never seen!” Branka shouted.   
“Tis a fair deal, the Anvil for an army of golems to aid you against the Blight,” Morrigan mused.   
“No, Morrigan, it is not,” I said firmly.   
“She has a point, dear Fela,” Zevran chimed in, “think of the lives you could save with an army like that.”

“Great, so we have two volunteers,” I snapped at them and they went pale, “I didn't think so.”

“Branka you mad, bleeding nug-tail! Does this thing mean so much to you that can’t even see what you’ve lost to get it?” Oghren asked desperately.   
“Look around you, is this what our empire should look like? A crumbling tunnel filled with darkspawn spume? The Anvil will let us take back our glory!”   
“The Anvil enslaves people,” Alistair said calmly, “it has to be destroyed.”   
“So, it fights with Caridin. Good, that seems right,” Shale said and moved to stand next to Caridin. Alistair and I stood in front of them.   
“Thank you, stranger, your compassion shames me,” Caridin said in a relieved tone.

“No!” Branka shrieked, “you will not take it! Not while I still live!”   
“Branka! Don’t throw your life away for this!” Oghren shouted. I put a hand on Oghren’s shoulder.   
“She’s dangerous, you see that, right?” I said softly. The ginger dwarf obviously cared for this woman who held nothing but disdain for him.   
“Just give her the blasted thing! She’s confused… maybe once she calms down, we can talk to her,” Oghren suggested.   
“She’s obsessed, and beyond redemption,” Alistair replied in an apologetic tone.

I drew my blades, still stained with broodmother blood. The others drew their weapons as well, even Oghren, though be it hesitantly.

“Bah! You are not the only master smith here, Caridin! Golems, obey me! Attack!” Branka hissed and held up what I guessed was a control rod.

Eight golems stormed us, Branka at their front. Caridin froze in his place, compelled by Branka’s rod. I wasn’t particularly effective against golems, so I went for Branka. Not to kill her, but to take the rod away from her.

I ran towards her, jumping and sliding across the floor to evade the golems that were charging us. Branka came at me with her mace, I jumped, ducking was no good when fighting dwarves. She blocked with her shield when I turned the jump into a high kick. I immediately attacked with my rapiers and met her mace. She snarled at me when I spun and kicked at her legs, bringing her mace down at me. I knocked it aside and kicked her in the chest. She stumbled back and I took the opportunity to swipe at her belt. She twisted away just in time.

I lunged at her, driving her back with a flurry of blows and kicks, looking for an opening to cut her belt. She didn’t give me any. I stabbed her bicep with my left blade, angled my right arm over it and swiped at the hand she used to hold her mace. Branka screamed as I deeply cut the back of her hand, severing the tendons between her wrist and fingers. The weapon fell from her limb fingers and she slammed her shield into me.

I fell, dropping one of my blades and putting a hand on my broken ribs. The pain soared through my side, and I barely managed to roll out of the way when Branka brought the edge of her shield down. My vision was blurred around the edges and tears had sprung to my eyes. The pain was nearly blinding. I grit my teeth with a low growl, kicked her feet from under her and struggled to get up, still holding my wounded side and breathing fast. I scrambled to kick her mace off the plateau and into the lava below.

“Branka,” I growled, “I don’t want to kill you, stop now!”   
“Never! You long-legged bitch!” Branka snarled, and she pulled a dagger from her belt.

She lunged at me, I barely managed to step aside in time. I was exhausted, concussed, and in a lot of pain. On top of that, I constantly needed to keep evading the golems under Branka’s control. My companions had taken three of them down, but five golems were still a lot of golems. I vaguely heard Alistair shout, almost immediately, I felt Wynne’s touch. She was healing me and restoring my strength. It didn’t have much effect on my broken rib though, and I was starting to have trouble breathing.

It was now or never.

I engaged Branka, kicked at the arm she used to hold her shield, spun and knocked it from her arm, making her elbow twist awkwardly. She cut my upper leg in the progress, I staggered but finally managed to cut her belt, and the control rod fell to the ground.

We both ducked to the floor, grabbing at it. Branka punched me in the face in the progress, but my arms were longer. My free hand found the control rod.

“Stop!” I shouted at the golems. They ignored me and continued to attack.   
“Fool!” Branka snarled at me as she jumped on top of me, her dagger held high. I screamed at the pain caused by the impact on my rib. I blocked her dagger with my remaining sword and the control rod, Branka pushed down as I pushed up. It was a strength contest now, and I was no smith.

“Did you think I would be stupid enough to create a control rod everyone can use?” she hissed as the dagger moved closer to my chest.   
“You cannot stop them, stop me! That rod is useless to you!” she screamed with a maniacal cackle.

I hit Branka in the head with the control rod instead, forcing the dagger sideways, it hit the stone. I threw the rod off the plateau, into the magma below, after I managed to throw Branka off and got up. Next I kicked the dagger away from her.

“ _Now_ the rod is useless to me!” I snarled as she struggled to get to her feet. The blow from the control rod had been rather heavy, and the side of her head was bleeding. She screamed and lunged at me, I let her come and ran her through. Branka dropped to the ground, and I with her.

I blacked out.


	35. Cairidin's Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We wrap up the journey into the Deep Roads. The group spends a last night in Orzammar to 'rest' a bit. Ok it's a bunch of smut too. And a party, sort of.

When I awoke, Alistair was holding me, Asher was licking my hand, the remaining golems had been destroyed, and my companions were looking down on me in anticipation. Wynne was healing me, though I wasn’t sure why.

“Relax already… I’m not dying,” I croaked when I saw their faces as they let out a unanimous sigh of relief, “can’t I pass out… for once without… you guys panicking?”  
“Thank the Maker,” Alistair gasped and kissed my forehead.  
“Ow, ow, ow, gently… busted ribs,” I groaned as Alistair held me tighter and put pressure on my torso.  
“Sorry,” he said, relaxing his hold on me a bit.  
“Careful now son,” Wynne said sternly, “she has a punctured lung.”

 _Ah, so that’s what the healing was for._ Wynne had taken my armor off and raised my shirt to expose the bruised skin just above my waist. She held her ear to my chest to listen to me breath.

“Branka’s fault… slammed her shield into me,” I said in a tired voice, I was struggling to get the words out.  
“Oh spare me the excuses, you should have been more careful. The broodmother broke it I take it?” Wynne scolded.  
“Zevran… needed you more… has far more broken ribs,” I pouted and kept sucking in shallow breaths.  
“Well, his didn’t puncture his lung, did they?” Wynne retorted.  
“I kind of have to agree with Wynne here,” Alistair remarked.

“Et tu… Brute?” I mumbled under my breath, and coughed.  
“What?”  
“What?” I replied innocently, then coughed up some blood.

“Blast,” Wynne muttered under her breath, “quiet now you two, I need to concentrate.” She took out a long and thin instrument.

“What’s that? … what’re you doing… withe long pointy thing… Wynne?” I gasped in between breaths.  
“Stop talking,” Wynne scolded and put a hand on my shoulder to make me lie down flat on my back. I squirmed a little as she put its tip in between two of my ribs, and pushed. She removed an equally long and thinner instrument from what had apparently been a tube. Blood squirted out and I sucked in a relieved breath.

“Ok… good, long, pointy thing,” I panted.  
“What did I just say?” Wynne scolded as she prepared a bandage. I held up a hand in submission.

It took Wynne a while to patch me up and see to the others. Sten had a broken arm, Alistair had twisted his knee and had apparently made his way over to me by crawling. He couldn’t stand on his own. Zevran was still battered and bruised of course, and Morrigan was helping Leliana bandage a large wound on her shoulder.

Oghren knelt over Branka’s body, his back turned to us. He was taking it hard. He genuinely cared for her, had just found her again after two years, and found… this.

Branka was mad, no question. But that didn’t mean the loss was any less painful. Wynne instructed me to stay down and lie still for a bit longer while she tended to the others. She also instructed Asher to make sure I obeyed the order, he barked affirmatively and gave me a stern look.

Well, stern dog look, which was actually really cute.

I grinned at my dog and did as I was told until Wynne finally decided I was allowed to sit up. We decided we had earned a long rest, after Wynne had discovered I also had a concussion, she instructed Shale to wake me up every hour and a half, after scolding me some more of course. I had been _very_ irresponsible. I was also very tired, and drifted off to sleep right there on the stone ground.

Finally, after countless nights of endless nightmares, I slept without waking up screaming. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe killing the broodmother had changed something, or Shale nudging me awake periodically helped, it didn’t matter. I felt like I was being rewarded with some deep, peaceful sleep. Even if it came in roughly ninety-minute portions. My companions had tucked me into my bedroll at some point, I hadn’t even noticed them doing it somewhere between the second and the third time Shale poked my cheek.

We had agreed that’s where she would nudge me, the rest of my body hurt like hell, and Shale had stone fingers.

The next day, I had some new information to process. So I slowly made my way to the Anvil of the Void, and sat down with my back against a rock. I was on higher ground, and observed my companions. Asher sat next to me, he had grown a lot more protective since the night terror. Such a good dog.

I started by listing all the things I had learned in the last few days, darkspawn turned the women they took into broodmothers, Branka had lost her marbles, and I had killed her after promising her husband to help him find her. Caridin was a massive steel golem with crippling feelings of guilt, he had made Shale, who was a dwarven woman once, given to the Anvil of the Void, which transferred souls into bodies of stone or steel, killing the original body. Alistair had promised Caridin to destroy the Anvil.

I agreed with that last one, but I still felt a stab of disappointment every time I thought of an army of golems compared to whatever Orzammar could muster. But, even with my flexible morals, that was way beyond acceptable if it meant enslaving thousands of souls. I was glad Alistair made that call, and felt appalled by the fact that I had been tempted by Branka’s offer. It was probably why I had snapped at Morrigan and Zevran the way I did, convincing myself it wasn’t worth it. Plus, the concussion made me more irritable, my mind felt sluggish, and I was having trouble processing stimuli.

Simple sounds like Sten sharpening his sword were suddenly greatly annoying and I couldn’t shut out my companion’s voices as they had quiet conversations. So I sat next to the Anvil, to put a little distance between me and the rest. Down here in the Deep Roads, I couldn’t wander off and be alone for a while.

Well, I could, but it would be stupid. My companions would graciously let me have my moment of solitude, darkspawn didn’t quite feel the same way.

I watched Shale and Caridin have a quiet talk. Shale must have had a ton of questions for him, she had found someone who once knew her, that was more than any of us had ever expected. They turned their heads towards me, or to the Anvil, I gave them a little wave anyway. Which Shale returned.

“This was one hell of a shitstorm, huh boy?” Asher put his head in my lap and whined quietly.  
“Yeah, I can’t wait to get out of here either… should be easier now that we know the way,” I replied as I gently stroked his massive head. Asher looked up at me and sighed.  
“You did great, boy, good dog.” He wagged his tail in response.

“What’s that? I did well too? Am I a good human?” I grinned and scratched Asher behind his ears.  
“Andraste’s tits, we are filthy, even you should be looking forward to a bath at this point,” another low whine.  
“You’ll feel much better when we get all that blood and gore off, I promise.” I watched Shale and Caridin approach Alistair, he had made a promise, after all.

By now he was able to stand on his own, he had removed his armor, the extra weight would only make the injury worse, Wynne had said. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, though I could make a guess. By killing Branka, we had failed our original mission.

_My bad._

Caridin however, was a Paragon too, and he didn’t seem to have lost his marbles the way Branka had. His voice could replace hers. He wanted us to destroy the Anvil, in return, he would help us put an ass on the throne in Orzammar.

Seemed like Alistair and Caridin had reached an agreement. And they made their way over to the Anvil. I scrambled to get as far away from the Anvil as possible when they told me what they were going to do. Caridin would forge a crown for us to bestow upon the new King, that meant a lot of banging metal with a hammer. A lot of noise, repetitive noise, not my kind of noise.

While Caridin worked, we rested. I had begged Wynne and Morrigan to make me deaf for the next couple of hours. When they explained they couldn’t do that, I asked them to knock me out. Morrigan would have, if Wynne hadn’t stopped her. My concussion was bad enough as it was without getting hit in the head again. So I ended up stuffing my ears with pieces of cloth that I tore off my bedroll. Then I crawled under it, covering my head with my pack. It was the best I could do to muffle the noise of that blasted hammer hitting metal. Sten offered to help me meditate, but even he was hindered by the noise.

I let out a sigh of relief when Caridin was finally finished. I must say, the crown matched the bombastic style of the dwarves, it was huge, and heavy. Made of solid metal. Actually it looked more like a helm than a crown, but I didn’t care, I wasn’t going to wear it anyway. After that, Alistair destroyed the Anvil like Caridin had asked. As soon as he brought the hammer down on it, it released a bright light and it shattered. He tried to convince Caridin to come with us, back to Orzammar, but the ancient golem decided it had lived long enough, and leapt into the magma below.

Returned to the Stone.

Oghren had been quiet ever since the battle against Branka ended. While I felt that killing Branka was the right thing to do, I also felt a staggering amount of guilt towards Oghren. Who had been quietly getting drunk while leaning back against what looked like a plaque covered in dwarven script. While the less injured people of our party gathered our things, I made my way over to Oghren.

Without saying a word I sat down next to him, he didn’t complain. I presented him with a skin of wine I had been saving, he nodded, took a long drink, and handed it back. I drank too. We were quiet for a while, as I searched for the right words to say. I didn’t know Oghren very well, but I thought it would be best to call a horse a horse.

“I’m sorry I killed your wife, Oghren.”  
“Yeah… me too,” he replied and reached for the wine skin again.  
“Well, she nearly killed you too, so I suppose you’re even…” Oghren mumbled. I nodded, took the wine skin back from him and drank again.  
“What was she like? Before the Anvil, I mean,” I asked hesitantly.  
“She was… different…” Oghren said softly, drinking deeply from the wine skin again, “I appreciate the effort Warden, but I don’t feel like talking about this now,” he said after downing half the wine skin.  
“I hear you,” I replied and took another sip. We didn’t speak for a while and just sat there.

After about twenty minutes of this, Oghren broke the silence.

“So why don’t explain all that screaming and dream stuff?”  
“Oh right, you passed out when I was talking to Kardol,” I replied.  
“Yeah, never the sharpest tool in the box that one, I get the part about dreaming, but I don’t get the screaming and wrestling blondie,” Oghren clarified.

“Alright, what you saw was a night terror. Not all people have them, in fact, very few people have them. I’m one of the lucky bastards who gets to experience nightmares so intense, that I act out the dream,” I began.  
“Doesn’t sound so lucky,” Oghren remarked and belched.  
“You got that right. Now that I’m a Grey Warden, I’m connected to the darkspawn hivemind and those infected with the Taint. The link is stronger in the Fade. During the night terror, I was dreaming I was alone and unarmed, lost in the Deep Roads and hunted by darkspawn,” I replied and taking another drink. Oghren gave me a sideways glance.

“Maybe I’m wrong, but you don’t seem the type to go all hysterical over a bunch of darkspawn trying to get you. I watched you take down scores, an ogre, a broodmother, _and_ Branka on the same day, darkspawn don’t scare you,” he said and snorted. Then I sighed.  
“You’re right, put something sharp in my hand and I go on a blood frenzy. But that night terror was different.”

“So why is it that you have those night terrors anyway? It doesn’t suit you, you’re no scaredy-cat, if blondie had them, I wouldn’t be as surprised,” Oghren said in his raspy voice. I looked to my side to study Oghren as he sat there slowly getting drunk. Drunker.

“They can be caused by traumatic events. I killed a man when I was eleven years old,” I replied. Oghren raised an eyebrow.  
“And what is an eleven-year old girl doing killing folk?”  
“Tried to rape me,” I replied flatly.  
“Ah,” Oghren said, “well, I’d say he had it coming. Had a rough youth then?”

I let out a bitter laugh, and immediately regretted it when I felt the pain in my side.

“That’s the thing, I grew up sheltered and privileged. Never got into contact with true violence up until that point,” I replied.  
“So, killing a rapist at eleven years old, caused you to kick, scream, and bite while you slept the other night?” Oghren asked.  
“No,” I said quietly.  
“What then?” he asked while shaking his head in confusion.

“You know what happened to Laryn?” I asked.  
“Turned into a broodmother,” Oghren replied.  
“Before that,” I clarified. Oghren remained quiet for a moment.

“Well, ladies don’t pop out babies without a little donation first… are you saying that she… the darkspawn?” Oghren looked utterly disgusted.  
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Rape is my trigger for a night terror, not darkspawn,” I replied.  
“Well, now I get it… No wonder you went crazy. And getting so worked up about Branka… what she allowed to happen… it makes a lot more sense now,” Oghren said with a sigh, and proceeded to down the wine skin.

“All this talking is making me cranky, let’s go find something to kill,” Oghren said and moved to get up.  
“A man after my own heart,” I replied as I slowly got up.  
“Well, if you ever need a break from blondie-”  
“Don’t get any funny ideas now, Oghren, we were just starting to bond,” I replied sternly.  
“Alright, alright, the offer still stands, though,” he said and wriggled his eyebrows at me.

Once I was back on my feet, I looked at the plaque more closely.

“Hey, Oghren,”  
“What?”  
“Do these mean anything to you?” I asked pointing at the dwarven script on the plaque.  
“Eh, hang on a moment,” he said as he studied the plaque.

“It’s a list of names, look, there’s Shale,” he said and pointed at a name on the plaque.  
“It said my name?” Shale asked as she made her way over to us.  
“Your name is on this list, do you know what it is?” I asked. Shale joined Oghren in the study of the ancient plaque.

“These… these are the people who volunteered to become golems,” Shale finally said.  
“Awesome,” I replied, and called Wynne to come over. She suggested we take a rubbing and deliver it to the Shaperate, they had promised rewards for any lost information we retrieved. Wynne put the rubbing with the documents we had taken from Ortan Thaig, proving that Orta, the girl I met in the Shaperate, was in fact a member of the Ortan clan. So, at least we’d be walking away with some gold and a warm fuzzy feeling, if nothing else.

Shale came to speak to me before we left our current camp. She remembered the location of Cadash Thaig, and marked it on the map I had made. After talking to Alistair, I managed to convince him to make a slight detour and go to Cadash Thaig before we left the Deep Roads. It wasn’t far from Ortan Thaig, and it meant the world to Shale. She hoped to find something to prove her existence. After that, Oghren came to speak to me, he had an... unusual, request.

“Hey, hey Warden!” he slurred, “I just had the best idea.” I smiled and raised my eyebrows.  
“Oh? Do tell?”  
“Before we get back to Orzammar, I- heh, I wanna try out that crown Cairidin forged,” he said with twinkling, but hazy, eyes. I chuckled.  
“That’s awesome, it would be like taking its virginity before we give it to Harrowmont.”  
“What? Really?” Oghren said with a bright smile.  
“Oh yeah,” I replied, “Harrowmont’s an incompetent prick who needs two Grey Wardens to do his heavy lifting. Couldn’t be arsed to spare the men tasked with acting as his bodyguards and getting killed in the Commons for it. But let’s keep that between you and me, aye?”

“Aye,” Oghren roared and took my arm in a warrior’s grip, jerking me down so I was forced to bend at the waist. I groaned at the sudden pressure on my healing lung and ribs.  
“Oh, sorry, mate,” Oghren said and quickly let go, “now let’s go find that crown, I wanna know what that thing feels like with my head inside it.”  
“Oh-ho, that’s nasty,” I snickered through the pain, “we should get Zevran in on this.”

“You called?” Zevran said and perked up from the other side of camp.  
“You wanna deflower a virgin crown before Harrowmont takes her?” Oghren said in greasy rasping tones and winked at the elf. He gave Oghren a surprised, slightly amused, look before looking at me. He started laughing at my smirk.  
“Okay then,” he replied happily and approached, “I’m game, where is this virginal crown?”

The three of us were snickering and grinning like pre-pubescent morons when Alistair caught on.

“What’s this about a virginal crown?” he asked as he followed behind Zevran, and the three of us succumbed to more giggles and snorts.  
“The crown that Cairidin forged,” I managed between fits of laughter.  
“We wanna try it on!” Oghren added and his laughter turned to a high pitched snicker before he cleared his throat.

“So, where’d ya stash it?” Oghren said expectantly and looked up at Alistair.  
“Are you serious? What’s so funny about trying on the crown?” he asked.  
“Ooh, that makes a great euphemism,” Zevran said with a playful gleam in his eyes, causing another fit of snorting laughter from Oghren and me.

“It’s like this,” Zevran said, “that crown has not yet been on anyone’s head.” He snickered before continuing.  
“Oghren wants it to be on his head first. Then, I’d like a turn,” Alistair’s face grew more and more disturbed and amused at the same time as Zevran spoke.  
“Or perhaps after your lovely Fela has had her fun with it, I’m not choosy. What about you, wouldn’t you like to know how it fits? What is feels like?” Alistair sighed and chuckled as he caught on to the joke. It sounded even more nasty in Zevran’s suggestive tones and by now I was gasping for air and clutching at my ribs.

“You people… How do you even come up with this stuff?” he said with a louder chuckle than the one before.  
“Dirty minds,” Zevran said solemnly, “anything can be sexual if you look at it from the right angle. It’s a way of life.”

Oghren and I were shaking with laughter by now, unable to keep ourselves composed. I leaned on his shoulder and bent forward while Oghren was wiping tears from his face.

“What the hell, it can’t hurt,” Alistair said with his hands up in a shrug, “and if it entertains you, go for it. It’s with the packs.”

Oghren and Zevran scrambled ahead towards the packs while Alistair and I followed at a more casual pace. Zevran reverently lifted the crown from the pack Alistair had kept it in and turned to Oghren. Who went down on one knee ceremoniously and lowered his head so Zevran could lower the crown onto it.

“Ser Oghren, slayer of golems, keeper of the infinite flask, and patron of booze,” Zevran said solemnly, “it is my great pleasure, to place this, young, pure, untouched crown, on your, sizable, noble head. Do be gentle, you’re her first.”  
“Oh, yeah,” Oghren sighed as Zevran lowered the crown on his head, “nice, very nice.”  
“Really?” Zevran asked, “that thing weighs a ton.”  
“Doesn’t matter to me if it weigh’s two tons,” Oghren replied and let out a sigh, “this feels good,” he dragged out the last word and closed his eyes.

“You want to give it a try Warden?” he asked and looked up at me.  
“Sure,” I replied, and let Alistair take the crown from Oghren to put it on my head. I chuckled when I felt the weight of it settle.  
“Hmm, I don’t quite agree with Oghren, but I agree that it’s perfect for Orzammar’s next King.” Alistair raised his eyebrows at me.  
“Really? How does that work?”  
“Oh absolutely,” I replied, “it’s going to give Harrowmont horrible neck pains.” Alistair chuckled and offered the crown to Zevran next, who took a moment to form his opinion.

“I prefer a tighter fit, and a more… delicate physique,” he said suggestively and winked, “you’re well endowed, Alistair, why don’t you try?” Alistair blushed and burst out in helpless laughter.  
“I’m going to walk away now, do put the crown back safely.”

Zevran looked at me questioningly, and winked when I gave an affirmative nod and a smirk, suggesting that Alistair was indeed, well endowed.  
“Good for you,” Zevran said courteously.  
“You have no idea,” I replied with a chuckle and followed after my almost-Templar to get some sleep in the safety of his embrace.

* * *

Cadash Thaig was infested with darkspawn, deep stalkers, shrieks, and an alpha ogre. We were bruised, battered, and beaten up. But after what we went through in the Dead Trenches, with Branka, and Caridin, this wasn’t so bad. Morrigan and Wynne were fine, and we relied upon their magic heavily. Oghren was mostly just happy to be able to kill things and Shale was her cranky self, ranting on about what she called ‘vermin’.

She squished them happily, stomping though the Thaig. We took our time to investigate, Shale was looking for anything that might stir her memory.

In the end, we found a massive statue on a hill, and Shale remembered it. It was a monument, dedicated to all the people who volunteered to become golems. Names and dates were carved into a stone slab at the feet of the statue. Including Shale’s.

“I- I remember now! I remember Shayle, that… was me…” She gasped as she read the names and dates on the stone.  
“You… don’t seem very excited about that?” I asked hesitantly.  
“Excited? to be remembered as a squishy flesh creature? Perhaps… I will need to think on this, and the other things I have learned. Perhaps I will speak to it soon on these matters,” Shale said pensively.

“For now, let us carry on as we have,” she lead the way back to the Deep Roads, and soon we returned to Orzammar.

As we got closer to the city, the darkspawn encounters became less frequent, we didn't run into any more broodmothers, the horde, or the Archdemon. I also noticed that my dreams weren’t nearly as bad as before, I actually had a couple of decent nights. 

* * *

“So, what do we do first?” Alistair asked as we stepped into the Commons of Orzammar, “do we go to the Assembly? Or do we have a decent rest?”

 _“Rest!”_ we all shouted in unison. Alistair laughed and raised his hands.  
“Alright, alright. Onward to Tapsters then, we’ll blend right in, reeking as we do.”

We didn’t make it to Tapsters.

Well, Alistair and I didn’t. Harrowmont’s men were waiting for us and urged us to come to the Assembly right away. After a brief discussion, we conceded and let ourselves be lead to the Diamond Quarter. Oghren offered to come too, he knew Branka better than anyone, and felt it necessary to explain to the Assembly what had happened to her. The Assembly was in turmoil when we entered the great hall.

“Lords of the Assembly, I call for order! This discussion gets us nowhere,” the steward shouted in an attempt to settle the tension.  
“Then why these delaying tactics? I call for a vote right now,” Bhelen said.

_Cocky little bastard._

There was no telling what he had been up to while we were running around the Deep Roads.

“My father has _one_ living child to assume the Aeducan throne,” Bhelen continued, “who would deny him that?”  
“Your father made me swear on his deathbed you would not succeed him,” Harrowmont countered in a calm voice.  
“Pardon for the interruption Steward, but the Grey Wardens have returned,” one of the guards spoke as he stepped into the middle of the room. Immediately, the present Lords started yell and shout, producing the noise of an unhappy crowd.  
“We should let the Warden speak. What news do you bring?” Harrowmont asked calmly after raising a hand to quiet the attending lords.

“I bear a crown, forged By Caridin on the Anvil of the Void, for the King of his choice,” Alistair said, presenting the crown to the Steward.  
“Caridin was trapped in the body of a golem,” Oghren explained, “these Wardens granted him the mercy he sought, releasing him and destroying the Anvil of the Void. To make golems, it enslaved the souls of living people, and Cairidin, forcibly made into a golem himself, wished it destroyed. Before he died, Caridin forged a crown for Orzammar’s next King, chosen by the Ancestors themselves.”

_Smart move Oghren._

The truth was, Caridin didn’t care who we put on the throne, he just wanted the Anvil destroyed but agreed to forging the crown.

“And we are supposed to trust this?” Bhelen asked scathingly, “the word of a drunken sod and a Grey Warden known to be in Harrowmont’s pocket?”

“Silence,” the Steward roared, “this crown _is_ of Paragon make and bears house Ortan’s ancient seal. Tell us, Wardens, who did Caridin choose?” All eyes were on Alistair and me now, I looked at him.

Now was not the time for his honesty, they already assumed Caridin had made a choice. Alistair sighed before speaking.  
“Caridin told me to grant it to whoever I choose.”

_Damnit Alistair, too honest!_

“The Grey Warden knows nothing about us!” Bhelen shouted, “why would a Paragon entrust someone like this with such a weighty decision? This is ridiculous!”  
“Shut the fuck up, Bhelen, you’ve declared us your enemies without even talking to us. And might I remind you, you refused to speak with us because we wouldn’t go along with your half-assed attempt at fraud, counting on our supposed ignorance. You gambled and lost, dumb-ass there’s Shaperate in this city, it wasn’t very hard to verify. If you wanted to see and speak to Caridin himself, you should have come along down into the Deep Roads,” I hissed and spread my arms and slowly turned around for everyone to see the blood and gore still clinging to my beat up body.

“So you went to Harrowmont instead?” Bhelen sneered, “ _that’s_ what you based your choice on?”  
“The choice was based on the information we were able to get, you withheld yours. We’re here because of the Blight, on behalf of the people of Ferelden. You tried to take advantage of that. Your games are nowhere high on our shit-list Bhelen, the Archdemon is,” I said icily.  
“You _arrogant_ , _entitled_ , _little_ _whore_!” Bhelen shouted, he was all but frothing at the mouth.

“Enough!” Alistair and the Steward called in unison.  
“We have been in these chambers for too long. The will of the Paragon is that the Wardens decide,” the Steward said once the commotion had died down.  
Alistair and I shared a brief look before he sighed deeply and spoke.

“I would grant the crown to Harrowmont.” The crowd produced a surprised noise.

“I appreciate your forthrightness, Warden. You have acted with grace through this entire tortuous process,” Harrowmont replied. Then he slowly made his way down the stairs to join us in the middle of the room. The members of the Assembly brought down their staff’s on the ground with ever step he took, creating a steady rhythm. They had been united. Harrowmont knelt in front of the Steward, still holding the crown.

“Let the memories find you worthy, first amidst the Lords of our houses, King of Orzammar,” the Steward spoke solemnly as he placed the crown on Harrowmont’s head. Pyral Harrowmont rose as the new King of Orzammar.

“I will not abide by this!” Bhelen shouted.  
“The Ancestors have spoken!” one of the attending Lords shouted back.  
“Stand down Bhelen, you’ve lost,” Alistair said calmly.  
“You would let a surfacer decide the fate of the dwarves!?” Bhelen roared and reached for his weapon.  
“Watch out, they’ve brought weapons!” someone shouted.  
“Guards!-” Harrowmont roared, but the rest of his orders were drowned in the sound of metal hitting metal. Dulin rushed forward to protect Harrowmont while we fought Bhelen’s followers. Bhelen and his men were heavily outnumbered, so it was a rather short fight.

I heard Oghren laugh.  
“Let’s see what your innards look like!” he shouted as he engaged several nobles who sided with Bhelen.

Meanwhile, Alistair bashed one with his shield and swiped at another. I blocked a hit from Bhelen’s second, Vartag. I kicked him in his stomach and brought both of my rapiers down where his shoulder met his neck. He sprayed blood as he went down. I turned to see how Harrowmont was doing, if he got killed now and Bhelen took the throne, we’d have an extra war on our hands. Harrowmont was fine, Bhelen was on the floor, with Dulin standing over him with his axe raised high above his head.

“Dulin, _don’t!-”_ I shouted, but I was too late.

Dulin decapitated Bhelen. The remaining Lords that had attacked with him stopped when they saw their leader dead on the ground of the Assembly hall.

“Congratulations, you just turned Bhelen into a martyr,” I snarled at Dulin, as I sheathed my weapons. I didn’t bother cleaning them this time, they were filthy from our venture down the Deep Roads anyway.  
“I must admit, I did not think even Bhelen would defy the word of a Paragon. Nor that so many would follow him,” Harrowmont said as he looked down at the dead prince.  
“You haven’t been paying attention, then,” I snapped. I was so done bleeding for this city, the Lords of the Assembly to be precise. Harrowmont looked at me in surprise, we hadn’t spoken much before as I had let Alistair take the lead. But I was out of patience.

“Congratulations Harrowmont, you got your crown,” I said coldly and marched towards the door of the Assembly hall, “now, if you don’t need anything else, I would like to wash myself, eat, sleep, wash myself again, and heal my wounds.” Harrowmont nodded.  
“You and your companions are welcome to stay at the royal palace, you’ve done so much for Orzammar, it’s the least we can do.” That cheered me up a bit.  
“Thank you,” I said with a curt nod, motioned for Oghren to follow me, and went down to Tapsters to get our companions. Meanwhile, Alistair spoke to Harrowmont about the treaty that had brought us there in the first place.

_Finally._

* * *

“What have you gotten yourself into _now_ , young lady?” Wynne demanded sternly as I walked into Tapsters, Oghren right behind me. First I raised my eyebrows at her, then I realised I was covered in fresh blood. Vartag had been a messy kill.

“Not mine,” I said quickly, holding up my hands.  
“Well, who’s is it?” Wynne asked sternly.  
“Vartag, Bhelen’s second,” I replied, taking a step back from Wynne. She was hopping mad. Not strange, I was still pretty beaten up from the Deep Roads and was recovering from a punctured lung and a concussion. Wynne was just snapping at me because she wanted me safe and sound. Her worrying was quite endearing. Asher was on her side, looking at me with the dog-equivalent of a reprimanding look.

“It wasn’t _my_ fault,” I said defensively, “Harrowmont’s men demanded we come to the Assembly immediately, we told them about Caridin and the crown he forged, then they demanded to know who we would grant it too. So, Alistair granted it to Harrowmont, and Bhelen and his followers attacked.” Wynne narrowed her eyes at me.  
“And I’m supposed to believe you were on your best behaviour during all this?”  
“Maybe…” I replied in a dodgy tone, “ok, maybe I told him to shut the fuck up,” I admitted and Wynne raised a hand to her forehead, “and called him a dumb-ass,” I added, “and maybe I belittled him. But I didn’t strike the first blow!”

Oghren stifled a chuckle behind me and Wynne just shook her head at me.

“Anyway,” I continued, “Harrowmont has invited us to stay at the Royal Palace, and we came here to pick you guys up.” Wynne gave me another stern look, followed by a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.  
“As far as I can tell, Bhelen was an ass anyway,” she said and turned to gather up our other companions.  
“Heh, remind me to stay on granny’s good side. Even down here we know not to mess with mages,” Oghren said with a wide grin and nudging my side.  
“That’s the thing, I _am_ on her good side,” I replied and watched Oghren’s grin disappear. I laughed at the shocked look on his face.  
“You should see your face! Don’t worry, Wynne is a good person. She’s not going to turn you into a toad. Morrigan, though, I’m not so sure,” I said playfully.

Alistair was waiting for us when we made it to the Royal Palace.

“We have Orzammar’s support for the upcoming Blight,” he announced proudly when he saw us approach.  
“Told you, you could do it,” I said with a wide grin and covertly kissed his cheek.  
“Now can we _please_ find a tub, a couple of steel brushes, and a pound of soap? I feel disgusting,” I asked hopefully. Zevran put one arm around my shoulders, and another around Alistair’s back.  
“Ah, but my dear, we are all disgusting. What do you say we wash each other’s backs, hmm?” I shook his arm off my shoulders.  
“I would say nice try, but it really wasn’t.”  
“Blast,” the elf feigned terrible disappointment, “one of these days, my dear Fela, you will fall for my charms.”  
“One of these days you are going to find yourself castrated,” I retorted. He pouted and grabbed at his crotch.  
“You are cruel, my Ferelden rose.”  
“So I’ve been told,” I remarked as I pushed the doors to the Royal Palace open and stepped inside.

* * *

The palace was an architectural masterpiece, the ceilings were high and decorated with intricate patterns. Steel had been worked into the walls and displayed detailed pictures of landscapes, Ancestors, and exotic animals. The steel reflected shimmering light of the oil lamps that lit the massive hallway. I was still admiring the stone-work when a servant approached us to show us to our rooms.

She instructed us to leave our weapons, armor, and clothes outside the door so they could be collected and cleaned. They gave Alistair and me separate rooms, we needed to maintain an image, but it wasn’t long before I heard a knock on my door and found Alistair outside in a pair of not so dirty clothes.

“I thought you might like some company,” he said as Asher and he entered the room.  
“As long as you’ll behave,” I said with a mischievous smile and closed the door behind him.  
“You’re one to talk, you nearly got Bhelen to spit fire,” Alistair replied. I gave him an innocent look in return, and started to undress. Alistair didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Come take a bath with me,” I said and pulled him towards the tub by his hand. 

I washed my hair three times before I got all the blood and gore out, the water had turned bright red by then. We decided to drain the tub and refill it with clean water, then we spent nearly an hour scrubbing ourselves and each other clean. The water had turned red again, and we drained and refilled it a second time, and I finally got a good look at how bruised I was. My skin displayed an impressive pallet of colours around my waist. My rib was still bright purple, and I had several more bruises on my arms and legs. Plus the cut on my leg Branka gave me. Compared to me, Alistair didn’t look so bad, such is the advantage of wearing metal plates for armor. The knee he had twisted looked black and blue, but aside from some scrapes, that was about the worst of it.

“That broodmother got you good,” Alistair observed as he leaned back in the massive tub. I nodded.  
“You were just in time to sever that tentacle, saving my ass again.”  
“Well, it’s a fine ass,” Alistair grinned briefly before his expression grew more serious, “so… are you alright?”

“I don’t know… I mean, I don’t know how to _feel._ That night terror… I want to believe it was just a dream, but it doesn’t feel that way. I remember it as if it were real… Like with that sloth demon, when I was conscious in the Fade... I mean, I know my body was in the tower but it _did_ all really happen… didn’t it? The sloth demon was dead when we woke up…” I said slowly.

I had actually been brooding on this for a while. I had wondered before if we could get hurt or killed in the Fade, Alistair assured me we couldn’t, but I couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to it.

“I… don’t have an answer to that,” Alistair said slowly, “there is so much about being a Grey Warden we don’t know…”  
“Yeah… turns out we had absolutely no fucking clue about what we were getting into…” I replied tiredly.  
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” Alistair asked hesitantly.

“I can’t help but feeling like I got tricked… so much information was withheld, I didn’t make a well-informed choice, I made an ignorant one. And yet… I get it. Why they wouldn’t tell us, because nobody would want to join the Grey Wardens. It’s a death sentence,” I said while twirling a strand of hair around my finger, trying to make sense of my mixed feelings.  
“Fela, did you _want_ to become a Grey Warden?” he asked.

“I- I’m not sure…” I said quietly, “when Duncan came to Highever, things were different. I wanted to go my own way, be more than a broodmare to squeeze out heirs. Becoming a Grey Warden certainly appealed to me. But, in hindsight, it was only the _idea_ of becoming a Grey Warden that appealed to me. I didn’t know what it truly meant, hell, I still don’t. And then I lost my home, my family… and _everything_ changed. Duncan saved me from Howe, promised my parents I would live, but at the same time… the Joining could have killed me, and he knew it when he made that promise. I have some very complicated feelings about it all…” I trailed off.

An uncomfortable silence enveloped us. Alistair had idolised Duncan, and I just shared some pretty harsh criticism on him. As time passed by, I had come to feel betrayed, coerced, misled. The order had taken advantage of my loss. Don’t get me wrong, it was a hell of a lot better than being captured or killed by Rendon Howe. But recruiting me hadn’t been done out of mercy, it had been done out of necessity. Because there were very few Grey Wardens in Ferelden and there was a Blight coming, and I was an able fighter with a nice title and a very influential family. I took a deep breath.

“Duncan saved my life, that remains a fact. But he withheld the truth from me, and not because I didn’t ask,” I finally said.  
“It’s a harsh truth,” Alistair whispered, “but the truth nonetheless. The Grey Wardens kept many secrets, too many.” I sighed.  
“With good reason, mostly. I just can’t stand being kept in the dark,” I replied, “if Loghain hadn’t betrayed us, they would have been here to guide us, I don’t doubt that.”

“I wonder what they would have said about the broodmother…” Alistair mused.  
“Holy fucking shit, kill it with fire?” I offered. That earned me a chuckle.  
“That’s awfully close to what I thought when I saw it.”  
“Yeah… me too…” I paused, “do you think there was anything left of Laryn in that thing?”

“For her sake, I hope not,” Alistair said grimly, “death is a kindness, compared to… that.”  
“I agree,” I said firmly, “I can’t stand the thought that it’s possible for one of us, Wynne, Morrigan, Leliana, and me, to be turned into one of those things… That this has been happening from the very beginning, to countless women.” I felt a wave of horrified rage crash through me, directed at the darkspawn, and myself for my inability to kill them all. Alistair put a hand on my arm tentatively.

“We won’t let that happen,” he said softly, “not to you, to Leliana, Wynne, even Morrigan.” He leaned forward to put his other hand on my cheek and looked deep into my eyes, “you’re safe with me.” Tears rolled down my cheeks when I closed my eyes.  
“I know,” I whispered as I let him pull me close. I tensed a little in his embrace, the memories of the dream were still fresh on my mind, tainting this moment with Alistair. He felt it.  
“Is this ok?” he asked softly.  
“Yes,” I whispered, “I just… need to get my mind straight.”

What I meant by that is that I wanted to separate the memories of the dream from Alistair’s affection.

Those memories had no business coming to the surface when _he_ touched me, he was my beacon. I refused to let it be tainted too, so I wrapped my arms around him and let my head rest on his shoulder. I had done this before, my first intimate encounters with Ser Gilmore had been difficult too as it kept triggering memories of Fjodor. Even though I wanted to be near him, the memories would mess it all up. He, like Alistair, had been patient, though, and eventually I got over it. I needed to remind myself of what I _wanted,_ not what I feared.

I sighed and relaxed, melting into the embrace and gently kissing his neck. He almost purred at my soft ministrations, let out a relieved sigh and softly caressed my back. Trailing the scars left by the pride demon, they were a reminder he’d saved my life, more than once. He would protect me.

“I love you,” I whispered in his ear and gently bit his earlobe, nuzzling the area where his hairline met his neck.  
“I love you too,” he replied softly, holding me a little tighter but keeping his hands safely on my back. Kissing his neck aroused him, but he was letting me set the pace. I felt him grow hard against my leg when I trailed soft kisses down to his chest. I moved to straddle him.

“Fela,” Alistair said softly against my lips, “are you sure you’re ok with this?” I nodded.  
“Yes, I need this,” I whispered, “just, go slow.”

Alistair ran his hands from my hips, up to my shoulders, pulling me in soft, but passionate kiss. I took his face into my hands as I kissed him back, flicking his lips with my tongue before sitting up so I could trace the outlines of the muscles in his shoulders and chest, down to his stomach. He shivered a little when I ran my fingernails down his sides, to his hips and gently stroked my hand along his length. I felt him twitch against my palm as I wrapped my hand around him and moved it slowly up to brush my palm across his tip. Alistair sat up with me, put his arms around my waist and kissed my neck as I kept stroking him.

My breasts pressed against his chest and he trailed kisses down my shoulder before slowly moving further down. He ran one of his hands down my hip before moving it down to my ass and take hold. I gasped when he flicked his tongue against my nipple, then moaned as he gently sucked it. Meanwhile his other hand moved along my hip again and down my thigh. He was carefully measuring my every response, making sure it was what I wanted. I pulled his head back for a deep loving kiss, and moved to lay back in the tub, pulling Alistair with me.

He sat on his knees in front of me and I slowly spread my legs as he ran his hands up my thighs. I pulled him close for a kiss. Supporting himself on one arm, he brushed his fingers along my cherry. Encouraged by my moans, he gently rubbed my sweet spot and trailed kisses down my neck. I ran my fingernails along his back, softly. Up to his head where I ran my fingers through his hair and I arched my back to press my chest against his face. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulled my hips up to his and sat up, taking me with him. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders to steady myself as he kissed me long and deep. Entwining his tongue with mine.

He paused, as if waiting for my permission. I kissed him, and tilted my hips for him to let him slip inside.

We moved slowly, savouring the moment. I gently brushed my teeth against his lips before running my tongue across it. He responded by claiming my lips in a loving kiss and holding me close. I moaned into his mouth when we started a slow and steady rhythm, making the water wash over the edges of the tub. I focussed on Alistair and the sensations in my body, dedicating my attention to those two things, dismissing any memory or thought.

I guess meditation is a great way of learning to control your mind, which results in more intense experiences in the bedroom, or in this case, tub. I revelled in it, my world was reduced to nothing but Alistair and our pleasure. I had let go of anything else.

His breath was hot on my neck, his skin slick with sweat under my arms. It felt good to have him inside me, pressing against my inner walls as we moved. There was no pain, no power-play. This was about being as close to one another as possible, sharing a kind of intimacy that could only result from love. Mixed with lust, surely, but we fucked with a gentleness we usually didn't bother with.

Our kisses became more intense when we slightly increased our pace. I tightened my hold on him, clinging to him desperately, like I wanted to melt into him. Pleasure started growing in my abdomen, ever so slowly, along with our tempo. Alistair started panting into my neck as we started moving faster, digging his fingers into my flesh to hold me tighter. More water splashed out of the tub, we didn’t even notice. We were too caught up in one another to pay attention to anything else. I felt Alistair tense as I soared to my climax, he was right behind me as always. Groaning into my ear as he came. He held me there for a while longer as we caught our breath, I leaned my forehead against his and closed my eyes. Savouring the release he just gave me.

We got out of the tub after that, curling up in the bed to sleep. This was a moment of well-earned rest. I forgot about Asher, who was still filthy, and I forgot I was hungry. All I wanted was to sleep. And Asher didn’t mind to postpone his bath, all he wanted was to sleep too.

* * *

When we awoke, the tub was empty, our dirty clothes had been cleaned and delivered back, my armor and weapons rested against the wall next to the door, Alistair’s armor was next to it.

So much for keeping up an image, gossip travels fast in Orzammar. A servant finding the only two Grey Wardens in the city naked in bed together, fast asleep, could draw only one conclusion. That the Grey Wardens who had just put a new King on the throne were screwing. We could only hope they would be discrete. But it was inevitable that rumours around our relationship got around. Even before we tried to be more discrete, plenty of people knew of our affections for one another.

Luckily, Orzammar was pretty isolated from the rest of the world, and there had been plenty of heroic stories taking root. Many of which, we hadn’t even planted ourselves. Give people the bones of a story and soon they will grow beyond your control as the stories travel from tavern to tavern. Which was exactly the point off course, it obscured our own meddling. Drunks can add the most wonderful details when they are trying to make people listen to their tale, they’ll spice it up to make it more interesting and entertaining. That could happen to a rumour of us being found in bed together of course, but those would have popped up sooner or later anyway. Alistair is an attractive man, and I myself am not unhappy with my looks and proportions. All those cold nights camping out in the wilderness, the brushes with death, saving each other’s lives.

Anyone could turn that into a love story.

Alistair was already up when I snapped awake out of a dream, he sat on the bed next to me, stroking my shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asked when I looked up at him. I stretched.  
“I’m starving,” I replied sleepily and sat up.  
“What are you doing out of bed?”  
“I’ve been asking about dinner,” Alistair said with a wide grin.  
“Genius,” I replied with a nod.  
“Great hall, forty-five minutes,” Alistair answered and kissed my cheek.  
“Perfect, I’m going to give Asher a bath real quick,” I said as I put on panties and a loose-fitting, white blouse.

“Asher, come on boy, it’s bath-time,” I called as I opened the faucets. Asher whined in reply and gave me puppy eyes. “ _Yes_ , you have to take a bath, even you have to admit you stink. You want the darkspawn to be able to smell you coming?” Asher whined again.  
“You can’t come to dinner unless you get into that tub,” I said sternly and pointed at the tub. Asher hung his head and slowly padded towards me.  
“Oh, don’t be dramatic, you weren’t planning on _licking_ all of that clean, were you?” Another whine.  
“Come on then, it’s not so bad, you got warm water this time.” Asher tentatively put a paw in the water, and looked up at me with pleading eyes.  
“I’ll get you a steak if you get in and let me wash you. Until you’re _clean_ this time.”

Asher obediently stepped into the tub and let me soap him up. I showered him with compliments as I scrubbed him clean quickly. Asher went along with it, giving me his paw and standing up or sitting down when asked, he knew from experience that this hurried the process along. We were done in fifteen minutes, to Asher’s delight.

I found socks, and boots, and put my hair up, fastening it with a silver pin.  
“You want to go see if they have appetisers?” I asked as I put on my boot.  
“Great minds think alike,” Alistair grinned and tried to dry off Asher with a towel. Asher however, decided to shake the water out of his fur instead, spraying Alistair with drops of water.

And what a glorious shake it was, droplets of water sprayed in every direction. And Alistair got the brunt of it, he dropped the towel on the ground.

“I guess you don’t need a towel then,” he said to Asher as he inspected the damage, “we’re ready to go I suppose, you’re wearing my shirt, by the way.” I looked down.  
“Right, I know that, of course,” I said innocently as I rolled up the sleeves and tucked the hem into my pants. I put on a belt next and strapped Asher’s Gift to my hip.

I usually don’t name my weapons, but this seemed appropriate. And I had killed a charging lust demon with it. I had only been carrying the blade because Asher gave it to me, things would have gone differently if he hadn’t. I had been poisoned with Quiet Death a few hours before killing the demon, after all, and I had been a wreck.

“Looks better on you anyway, boobs make everything better,” Alistair said with a mischievous smile.  
“Why, thank you,” I said with a slight bow, showing off my cleavage, “it’s very comfortable. Now come on, before Asher and I eat _you_ for dinner.” Alistair just gave me a grin and followed me out of the room.

We found Oghren, well on his way to intoxicating himself, sitting in between Wynne and Zevran, challenging them to drink some dwarven ale. Both wisely stuck to wine. And there were appetisers aplenty. We didn’t bother with etiquette, eating most anything we could get our hands on.

You see, eating like you’re actually hungry isn’t proper. One is supposed to only nibble, take small bites, and then leave at least half of the dish on the plate, like one isn’t hungry at all. As it happened, one was _very_ hungry. And one didn’t really care about what Harrowmont thought of one’s manners. Neither did Alistair, or the hunger outweighed it.

We were happily stuffing our faces with bread and cheese when Shale walked in.

“Uhg,” she groaned when she saw us, “it’s doing the food thing again.”  
“You don’t know what you’re missing about the food thing,” I replied with a shrug.  
“Maybe she’s jealous, she can’t enjoy the food thing,” Alistair offered while reaching for a particularly smelly cheese.  
“The food thing is pretty awesome,” I nodded.

“And now it’s teaming up with the whiny one,” Shale sighed.  
“Whiny?” Alistair muttered with a sideways glare at Shale.

“Ah, Shale, why do you expect anything more than disappointment from us squishy flesh creatures?” I said with a lopsided grin. “It has a point,” Shale remarked. “Was there something you needed?” I asked while cutting an apple in four parts. “Not right now, I was just wondering when it would be taking over leadership again,” Shale said bluntly. I shrugged.  
“Hasn’t come up yet, why?”  
“No reason,” Shale said in a dodgy tone as she returned Alistair’s glare, “I will be taking a walk around the city. I will be back in an hour if it needs me.”  
“Ok, talk to you later.”

“What was that about?” Alistair asked with a frown when Shale was out of earshot.  
“Is that a rhetorical question?” I replied. Alistair shot me an annoyed look.  
“Shale has a problem with my leadership and hopes you’ll take over now that the treaty is secure.”  
“Shale has a problem with almost anything,” I replied with a shrug, “and she seemed to agree with most of your decisions, she likes you better than you think. And I have no plans of ‘taking over’ at all.” Alistair’s demeanour softened.

“Now that you mention it, what _are_ your plans?” he asked.  
“What are yours?”  
“Dalish elves next?”  
“And what about leading, you still want to do it?”  
“Eh- sure. Do you?”  
“Not necessarily, you want me to?”  
“Not necessarily... want to do it together, see how that works?”  
“Sounds good.”  
“Good.”  
“Good talk.” We clinked wineglasses.

Oghren had been watching us through narrowed eyes.

“Did you need something?” I asked as I met his gaze.  
“Yeah,” he replied and looked from me to Alistair, “you’re sure that he’s a boy and you’re a girl, right?” Oghren eyes lingered on my chest. I nodded.  
“I checked very recently, I’m sure.”  
“So what the hell just happened with that conversation?” Oghren replied.

“I’m not sure what you mean…” I said slowly.  
“How’d you not get into a fight about who’s the boss!?” Oghren exclaimed.  
“Because…” I said slowly while trying to come up with an explanation, “because we actually like each other?” Alistair offered. Oghren suddenly gave us a knowing grin and chuckled.

“I see, just went for a tumble, worked wonders for Branka and me. Say no more kid, uncle Oghren’s understands.”  
“A tumble? What does he- oh,” Alistair stopped mid-sentence when he realised what Oghren was implying and looked at me.  
“Yeah…” was all I had to say to that, and went back to buttering up a piece of bread.  
“Ok,” Alistair said and paused for a moment, then he grinned, “he’s not wrong.”

“Hah! I knew it!” Oghren roared and started laughing, snorting ale through his nose.  
“You haven’t known them for very long, my short friend, those two fuck a lot,” Zevran grinned while nudging the ginger dwarf choking on his ale, “so really, it’s no surprise.”  
“Again, he’s not wrong,” Alistair said dryly.

That made Oghren laugh even harder, causing him to fall off his chair and Wynne bursting into the laughter she had been holding back. Alistair and I joined in, I still needed to be careful, but trying to hold in my laughter only made it worse.

Neither Harrowmont, nor Dulin joined us that night, both were busy securing Harrowmont’s position as King. Orzammar was still divided, and many resented that Bhelen had been killed. I should have cared more, I should have been trying to make a stronger ally out of Harrowmont. But that would cost precious time, and we still needed to secure the Dalish treaty before the Landsmeet.

Our priorities lay elsewhere, and Harrowmont and Dulin seemed to accept that gracefully. It was a mighty feast for just our band of armed lunatics. No effort was spared to make sure we were _very_ comfortable, Asher got his steak, and then two extra. He spent the evening lounging in front of the fire place, too full to move. So servants brought him a bowl of water, and a bowl of broth from what I assume was nug. Sten sat next to Asher on the ground, quietly humming to himself when he thought no one was listening. Occasionally petting Asher and sneaking him more food when he thought _I_ wasn’t looking. Best buddies forever.

After a brief chat with all of my companions to see how they were doing, I decided to enjoy some of Sten’s silence. Sitting down on Asher’s other side, comfortable in the heat coming off the fire. We were comfortably quiet before I spoke.

“Our next stop is Redcliffe, I know where to find Dwyn,” I announced.  
“I know, thank you, Warden,” Sten replied.  
“You know you can just call me Fela, right? It’s my name, Warden is my occupation,” I replied. Sten shook his head.  
“Among the qun, we don’t have names like yours. Our names are what we are, I am Sten, which means I am a warrior of the Bereshaad, the Qunari vanguard. It is what I am, and thus it is my name. You are a Grey Warden, so I call you thus.”

“You call me 'Warden,' never 'Grey Warden,'” I pointed out.  
“That is… my name for you,” Sten said in a dodgy tone.  
“Doesn’t sound like a very Qunari thing to do, to call someone Warden, instead of Grey Warden, for it is what I am,” I replied teasingly, imitating his stern manner. Sten shuffled in his spot on the ground and remained quiet.

“It’s an endearment, isn’t it?” I said mock-accusingly and narrowed my eyes. Sten still didn’t reply and refused to meet my gaze. I laughed.  
“Maker, it _is!_ Ahw, Sten, don’t be embarrassed, I’ll tell no one, I promise. Just like I’ll tell no one I saw you playing with a kitten last time we were in Redcliffe. How about we just say it’s a human thing to do and you’ve been adapting very well?”  
“I have told you too much of the Qun,” Sten replied and crossed his arms.  
“Oh, come now, my big scary friend, no one is going to think less of you. This lot doesn’t know you’ve been acting outside of Qunari customs,” I said while suppressing a giggle, “and yes, you should always be careful with what you tell me. I might get into your head,” I said playfully and poured him more wine.

Asher barked after I finished refilling my own cup, I looked down.  
“What?” Asher gave me puppy eyes.  
“You want wine? Haven’t you been spoiled enough tonight?” Asher whined.  
“Of course, _you_ wouldn’t think so, you glutton,” I replied and poured some wine into Asher’s water bowl, “have at it, bad boy, tonight is already beyond redemption anyway.” Asher barked happily.

“You got into his head too?” Sten asked, observing my one-sided dog-banter.  
“Asher? Nah, I just know my dog. He’s smart and all that, but his thoughts aren’t very complex.” Asher gave me a gruff in reply.  
“Right, very complex of course,” I corrected, “Asher has an old soul, and a very deep personality. No one could ever truly understand the depth of his love for stake and bitches, it is beyond our grasp,” I added dramatically.

Asher gave me an approving gruff this time.

“Hey, Sten?”  
“Yes?”  
“Want to see how many peanuts we can throw in Oghren’s ale before he notices?” I pointed at the bowl of peanuts next to him and then at Oghren, dozing off with his head on the table in a puddle of drool. Sten stared at me.  
“Why would I want to do that?”  
“Because he’s going to be pissed if he wakes up, and not know what hit him?” I said with a grin, “it’s amusing, come on, try,” I encouraged him by throwing a peanut at the sleeping dwarf, who twitched, grumbled, and pawed at his nose where the peanut hit it. I threw another when he started snoring again, it landed in his ear and Oghren snorted loudly, cursing sleepily. The next peanut plopped into the mug of ale, sending a few drops of it into Oghren’s face.

“Your turn, you have to keep throwing until you hit ale, if he wakes up, you lose,” I said and looked at Sten expectantly.  
“Challenge accepted,” Sten replied and took the bowl of peanuts.

And that, is how I got my large Qunari friend to giggle. We were snickering like the drunk fools that we were when Oghren woke up from a peanut, thrown by Sten, that landed near his mouth. He looked around suspiciously, and took a long drink of his ale, then spat, all over Wynne, and swore as he noticed the peanuts on the bottom. Most of it was unintelligible but I’m fairly certain I heard the words, ‘sod off’, ‘whore monger’, and ‘nug-tail’.

We burst into laughter at Oghren’s reaction, hiding the bowl of peanuts behind our backs. It hurt my bruised torso so much, I was soon laying on the floor while still laughing like an idiot. We laughed even harder when Wynne started to curse back at Oghren like a sailor, she had a very colourful vocabulary, including ‘arse-maggot’, ‘bloody, blasted son of a bow-legged dock whore’, and ‘dickless man-whore’.

That last one gave Zevran ideas about a dickless man-whore’s job description, which he shared with Alistair, who was sticking his fingers in his ears and singing to himself. Leliana was laughing so hard, she was barely able to stand, and Morrigan gave us a look that was meant to be disapproving. But I saw the smile tugging at her mouth. Later that evening I caught her secretly throwing more peanuts at Oghren’s ale and glowering at him whenever he looked her way. Her version of intimidating cat and drunk mouse.

I decided to rescue Alistair from Zevran, he was oblivious to Zevran’s flirtations, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t uncomfortable with the elf nearly crawling into his lap.

“Zevran, ksst, bad kitty,” I said playfully as I approached.  
“Bad kitty, oh, I do like that,” Zevran replied and licked his lips. It diverted Zevran’s attention long enough for Alistair to push him off.  
“Of course you do,” I replied and flicked him on the nose, “and I’m the alpha kitty, claiming this lap. I’m going to smack you every time you get too close for my taste.” I sat down in Alistair’s lap and he gratefully put an arm around my waist. Zevran reached out to Alistair’s shoulder, I slapped his hand. Zevran pulled it back and gave me a pitiful look.

“That’s right, you just sit there and pout,” I said sternly and leaned into Alistair.  
“You’re bossy today…” Zevran observed.  
“Always was, I told you to behave but you insist on-”  
“on being witty and infinitely charming?” Zevran interrupted.  
“On being a man-whore,” I finished. Zevran grinned.  
“Not the dickless kind, I assure you.”  
“I’ll take your word for it,” I said dryly.

“I don’t, all smooth and pretty, hitting on blondie over there, hah!” I heard Oghren roar.  
“Oghren, don’t!-” I called, but it was too late. Zevran jumped up, and proudly pulled his pants down, swinging his dong for everyone to see. I raised a hand against my forehead while Wynne and Leliana giggled uncontrollably.  
“Heh, I stand corrected,” Oghren admitted, observing Zevran’s dick and cocking his head. Then he looked at Alistair, “now I’m _really_ not sure if he’s a boy,” he added and pointed at Alistair.

“Let’s find out,” Zevran replied and pulled his pants up.  
“No!” Alistair said, “no finding out, my pants stay on.” Wynne laughed even harder at that.  
“I really don’t think that’s up to you, son,” she said and winked at me.  
“Ol’ lady has a point,” Oghren added.

“Oh, no. You guys don’t get to drag me into this,” I protested and raised my hands.  
“Fela, my dear, you started it when you called Zevran ‘bad kitty’ and pronounced yourself the ‘alpha kitty,’ this is all your doing,” Leliana replied, “now, where do we stand on the pants-issue?”

“Traitor,” I muttered, “your call Alistair.”  
“Pants stay on,” Alistair said firmly. He was met with disappointed replies and complaints. But they left him alone eventually.

“You’re trouble,” Alistair whispered in my ear. I gave him a sideways look.  
“I was coming to your rescue, Zevran was about to molest you,” I replied playfully.  
“You were also throwing peanuts at Oghren for half an hour,” he continued.  
“So was Sten,” I protested.  
“You came up with the idea.”  
“You don’t know that.”  
“And you made him play,”  
“He was having fun,” I said defensively and pouted. Alistair grinned.

“It was pretty funny when Oghren spat his ale,” he said with a lopsided grin, I started giggling again at the memory.  
“Did you see the look on Wynne’s face?” I asked, Alistair chuckled.  
“I thought she was going to kill him for a moment.”  
“I’m pretty sure she was about to, but then he fell over backwards and she was laughing too hard,” I replied with a snicker and snuggled a little closer, breathing in his scent.

I watched my friends horsing around, Shale had returned and now she and Sten were trying to see how high they could stack the furniture. Oghren was encouraging them, asking if he could be put on top so he could see what being tall felt like. Turned out it made him nauseous, but he seemed enjoy vomiting from that high, cheering proudly and calling for more ale atop his mountain of furniture. Leliana appeared to be painting Asher’s nails, he was either to full and bloated to get up, or he actually didn’t mind his pedicure. Zevran and Wynne were playing another drinking game, both had red glowing cheeks. Morrigan was observing it all from a chair close to the fire and quietly sipping wine. Her version of having a good time.

I wouldn’t be surprised if she eventually found a place up high to watch us from, like a cat. If she could, she would purr right now. Wait, she’s a shape-changer, of course she can purr. If she decided to turn into a cat, that is. I wondered if being drunk would affect a shape-changer much when they were in animal form. Walking on two feet can be hard enough when you’re drunk, imagine having to coordinate four. Or worse, eight.

I yawned and sighed.  
“I think I want to go to sleep soon,” I mumbled into Alistair’s neck.  
“Sounds good,” he replied and kissed my forehead. I got up and called Asher, meanwhile Alistair announced we were going to sleep. There were a bunch of smart comments of course, Zevran and Oghren seemed to share a fascination for dirty jokes and puns. The had been at it ever since the pun-fest with Cairidin's Crown. I didn’t bother responding to any of them, I just waved and left the great hall with Alistair and Asher. But not before grabbing a plate and stuffing it with some late-night snacks like chicken wings, cheese, sausage, honeyed almonds, bread rolls filled with vegetables, and various pastries. Both Alistair and Asher looked at me appreciatively.

Like I was going to share any of it.

I went to sleep with a full stomach, in a soft bed, and Alistair beside me. And tomorrow, we would finally leave this city. No more caverns and tunnels. Ok, no soft beds and fancy food either, but there would be sunlight. I had missed sunlight, and moonlight, and starlight, the wind, and the sky. Even rain. Oh, and clouds! Yes, I was looking forward to leaving the city and being in the open air again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I think to myself, 'you sick fuck, why do you write shit like that?' Then I remember some of the much sicker shit I read here, which I left kudos for by the way as any sick fuck would, and realise I'm not so bad.


	36. The Third Night at Redcliffe Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group travels back to Redcliffe.

The next day, I rose early to take another hot bath. It was going to be a while before the next, I assumed the Dalish wouldn’t waste time dragging tubs around the Brecilian Forest, so I didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

Finding the Dalish wasn’t going to be an easy task, the Brecilian Forest was huge, and easy to get lost in. There were also a lot of strange stories surrounding the forest, people going missing. Children wandering in and returning ten years later as if they hadn’t aged a day. Strange noises and even stranger footprints, of beasts unknown to any tracker. It all sounded like an old wives tale to me, an ominous forest with mysterious elven people in it tended to bring out a great deal of superstition and mysticism in most folk.

I was going over what I knew of the Brecilian Forest in my head when Alistair woke up, feeling the bed next to him. He smiled when he saw me in the tub.

“Good morning,” he said sleepily and stretched.  
“Good morning,” I replied, my attention drawn away from my thoughts, “did you sleep well?”  
“In a soft warm bed? I slept wonderful,” Alistair replied as Asher jumped onto the bed and lay down in my spot next to Alistair. He scratched Asher behind his ear absentmindedly.

“What about you? Why aren’t you still in bed? With me?” Alistair said suggestively.  
“Well, why aren’t you in the tub with me?” I countered playfully and smiled.  
“Because I just woke up,” Alistair said with a chuckle, “don’t dodge the question, woman.”

“I was thinking about the Brecilian Forest,” I admitted.  
“Ah, I should have known you would be thinking ahead,” Alistair replied, “what about it?”  
“The area is huge, if we have to search it, there’s no way we would be able to cover enough ground with just our party,” I said. Alistair nodded.  
“Unless we can find some kind of clue that tells us where to start.”  
“Precisely. We could start with places near water, but that’s all I’ve been able to come up with,” I answered.

“Doesn’t Zevran have a Dalish mother?”  
“Zevran _had_ a Dalish mother, she died giving birth to him. And no, he has no idea where to look, I asked.”  
“Maybe Arl Eamon has found something, Loghain tried to gain support at the Tower of Magi and in Orzammar, maybe he’ll try with the Dalish elves too…”  
“I thought about that too, but it’s a long shot. And we’d risk exposing our next move. Definitely worth asking him when we get to Redcliffe, though, I’m just not counting on it.”

“So we look for tracks, a large group of people moving through a forest _has_ to leave tracks.”  
“That brings us back to not being able to cover enough ground,” I said while shaking my head.  
“So it’s a matter of getting lucky…” Alistair said slowly.

“There might be a way to increase our luck a little… or at least give us a little more direction in where to look,” I replied in a dodgy tone.  
“How?” Alistair asked with a frown.  
“We know someone who has lived her entire life in a forest, and knows how to remain hidden. She might know things that we would miss…” I eyed Alistair to gauge his reaction. He didn’t look amused.

“You want to ask Morrigan for help?” he said with a pained look on his face, I nodded.  
“I grew up in a castle, so did you before the Chantry. Leliana lived in Val Royeux, Wynne was confined to a tower, Zevran lived in a humongous city, Shale has been frozen for thirty years, and Oghren lived underground. I think Morrigan is our best bet for a guide.” Alistair let himself fall back on his pillow.

“Shiiiiiiit…” he sighed, “you’re right… We’re going to have to ask Morrigan for help. Ugh, even saying it gives me a bad taste in my mouth.”

I rose from the tub.

“Hmm, maybe I can sweeten the deal a bit,” I purred while reaching for a towel.  
“That depends, does it involve you coming back to bed?” Alistair replied as he watched me dry myself off.  
“It does,” I answered as I made my way over to the bed and crawled onto it. Moving to straddle him, he gently ran his hands up my legs to rest them on my hips as I leaned down to kiss him.

“Is this how you get me to agree to something I don't like now?” Alistair asked in a husky voice when the kiss broke. Meanwhile he pushed Asher off the bed, who obediently let us have our space.  
“You agreed before I even got started, Alistair,” I replied before trailing kisses along his jawline, to his ear, and down his neck.

His hands ran up my sides and he started kneading my breasts with both hands, rolling my nipples between his fingers. I gasped at the sensation and gently bit his earlobe in response. I kissed him again, teasing his lower lip with my tongue and trailed kisses down his chin and his throat, gently nipping him with my teeth. He entwined his fingers in my hair as I continued my trail down his chest, I felt him tense in anticipation as I ran my tongue down his abdomen, brushing his tip with my lips before running my tongue along his length. I teased his abdomen with my fingertips, before taking a firm grip on his hips.

I started off slow, using my tongue and my lips to wet his cock. I felt him shiver and tense under my touch, I liked having him at my mercy like this and took my sweet time before taking his tip into my mouth. He groaned and took a tight grip on my hair as I slowly inched my lips down his length until his tip pressed against the back of my throat. I relaxed it to let him slide down further, taking in his full length. Alistair choked out a curse, the muscles in his abdomen clenched so tight it lifted his shoulders off the bed. It also tilted his pelvis upwards and he ended up pressing into my throat even further while he gasped for breath. I let out an appreciative hum, which had him jerk back and immediately thrust back up. Simultaneously wanting to relieve the pleasure and wanting more of it. I pulled back slowly and sucked as I let him slide out of my mouth.

I repeated the motion, bobbing my head up and down and listening to him respond. He had dropped back into the pillows by now, relaxing into it while I moved. I cupped his balls in my hand and kept a steady rhythm, ignoring the dull ache in my jaw when it came. Determined to take my sweet time sucking him off. And so I did, playing with him leisurely. I listened to him go from cursing, to half formed words, to incoherent syllables, and to whispering my name over and over again like an erotic prayer. I worked him close to the edge and looked up at him, feeling his body tense under my grip on his legs. He held my gaze until he reached his climax, arching his back and throwing his head back with a load groan. I felt him throb and pulsate, then tasted his seed. I licked my lips after swallowing and smiled, letting him pull me into a loving embrace.

“I do love it when you do that,” he whispered contently. I chuckled and nuzzled his neck.  
“You don’t say?” I whispered back playfully. He ran his hands up and down my back gently, giving me goose bumps.  
“I wish we could just stay in bed today,” Alistair sighed.  
“Me too, I’d say that staying in a subterranean city is the Grey Warden-equivalent of hiding under a rock,” I mused, “I wouldn’t mind hiding under a rock, for a bit.”  
“Hiding under a rock sounds good.”  
“Ferelden being destroyed by a Blight doesn’t though,” I said in a playful business-like tone.  
“No it does not,” Alistair replied, mimicking my tone.  
“We can’t ignore our duties, now can we?” I continued.  
“Aside from other variously violent motivations, no we cannot,” Alistair said with an approving nod.  
“We have some killing to do,” I added seriously. Alistair nodded, smiled, and rolled over, pinning me underneath him.

“In an hour or two,” he added and kissed me passionately, “you’re mine until then.”

He kissed me again before moving to the spot where my neck met my ear. He let his fingers run along the curve of my breast, down my stomach, and between my thighs, gently nudging my legs apart. Meanwhile he trailed kisses down my neck before sitting up on his knees, running his hands along my sides as he did so. He watched me intently for a moment, his eyes moving over every curve and the scars marking my skin, trailing them with his fingers on my upper-legs.

“You are just gorgeous,” he whispered, causing me to blush shyly in my vulnerable and exposed position, “that was my first thought when I met you,” he confessed, “I never would have dared to dream you would ever be mine.” He grinned impishly, “I’m still not entirely sure how I even got here.”

He got down on his stomach and put one of my legs over his shoulder, kissing the inside of my thigh softly. His lips barely brushed my skin and I felt his tongue before I felt his teeth in the soft flesh. He licked the tip of his thumb and brushed my pearl with a feather light touch. I gasped with a high-pitched moan as I felt the muscles in my abdomen tense with anticipation. He drew slow circles with his thumb while trailing kisses up my thigh. He stopped when he reached the place where my leg met my torso, then moved his thumb to the centre of the circle he had been drawing.

I moaned louder and arched my back as pleasure shot through my abdomen, grabbing at the sheets and gathering them up in tightly clenched fists. Alistair’s thumb was drawing much smaller circles now, limiting my mind to the wonderful sensations in my body. It was solely occupied with the pleasure I was receiving from him. Glancing down, I saw him smiling at me wickedly with the knowledge that I was, quite literally, at his fingertips. I let out a lusty sigh when I finally felt his tongue replacing his thumb. He licked his fingers while looking up at me before sliding one inside, I closed my eyes and moved a hand to entwine my fingers in his hair when I felt his tongue on my pearl again. I felt my inner walls clench around his finger with every stroke of his tongue.

He hummed appreciatively, while I ground myself up to his face and cast me an amused look. He hooked and arm around my leg, draping it over my abdomen to control my movements. I drowned in ecstasy, Alistair was in full control of my body and he was determined to keep it that way. I didn’t protest, I could only surrender to him, locking my legs, draped over his shoulders.

This went on until I couldn’t think anymore, he kept me on the edge of release until I was covered in sweat and begging for it while he teased me with his lips, his fingers, and his tongue. The muscles in my stomach tensed and twitched, causing me to arch my back involuntarily at his ministrations.

“Alistair! Oh, _Maker_ ,” I cried out in frustration mixed with pleasure when he moved his hands, no longer using his fingers to stimulate me. He wrapped them around my hips instead when he finally gave me what I wanted, he stopped teasing, left me free to grind against his mouth, and granted me my climax. I went soaring, my body shook and shivered with a hot tension, and I couldn’t help but cry out when I went over the edge and the tension broke in crashing waves of release.

I lay on my back, panting with the satisfied exhaustion that can only follow from a mind-numbing orgasm. I was too deep in a blissful state of peace to notice Alistair looked more than a little pleased with himself when he lay down next to me and gathered me up in his arms. I breathed in his scent and let my mind drift, it was perfectly and wonderfully at ease.

* * *

When we finally left the bed, we immediately made our way to the dining hall for breakfast. We were hungry like a pair of bears fresh out of hibernation.

Oghren appeared to have slept on top of his mountain of furniture, and now that his body had spent some time working out, a _part_ of, the alcohol in his system, he found that he didn’t like the height quite so much. We helped him down after we recovered from a fit of laughter.

Meaning Alistair helped him down while I was still laughing. Watching him lift the dwarf off the wobbly construction, I gasped for air between snorts and snickers, bending over at the waist. I was half convinced I had broken my still healing ribs again, luckily Wynne had already been sipping coffee by the hearth after refusing to help Oghren off the mountain.

After a quick examination, she informed me it was fine. The others slowly trickled in while I enjoyed my breakfast quietly and contently by the fire. I was not really in the mood to really talk to anyone yet, it would disturb my current state of mind; thoroughly satisfied. Alistair gave me a sly, knowing smile and sat next to me in equally satisfied silence. It took Oghren and Zevran quite a while to notice, and they immediately jumped to the right conclusions.

“Heh, now there’s a pair of satisfied lovers if I’ve ever seen one. What did you do to her, eh? Must have been good to have made her all docile like this,” Oghren said in a greasy stage-whisper while nudging Alistair’s ribs. I arched an eyebrow lazily.  
“Docile?” I said slowly.  
“Aye, docile, lass. Looks like you’ve been tamed, eh?” he replied and snickered.

“Shale? Could you do me a favour?” I called as the golem trudged into the dining hall. Shale sighed.  
“It's wish?” she asked.  
“I’d like you to put Oghren back on top of his furniture tower, if you don’t mind,” I replied sweetly.

“Hey, no. No, no, no, no, _no!_ Stay away, you dumb rock!” Shale approached Oghren to put him back on the jumble of tables, chairs, and bookshelves pilfered from their case.

I broke into a lazy grin as I watched Oghren trying to get away from the massive golem, he ducked and scrambled before she got a good hold on him. Then he ran over the dining table, kicking food and clutter everywhere before jumping off and run to hide behind Morrigan. She tripped him with her staff and Shale moved in to pick him up. Oghren continued to struggle while Shale carried him back to his throne and set him on top.

By the end he was struggling to hold _onto_ Shale, in an attempt to avoid being trapped in a high place again. Laughter filled the dining hall, even Oghren laughed along.

“Alright, alright, heh,” he said while wiping a tear away, “not docile, you win. Crazy nug-tail, heh- Ahaha!” He burst out laughing again, nearly toppling off the furniture tower. Shale saved him from breaking his neck, picking him up by the scruff of his neck and putting him down again. Oghren picked a lemon cake off the floor and popped it in his mouth as he made his way back to the chair he was planning to sit in.

“The question remains,” Zevran said in a theatrical tone, “what did Alistair do to fair Fela to make her glow like morning sunlight?” I rolled my eyes and shook my head.  
“You already know I’m not going to answer that,” I replied, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth, “but I’ll give you this, it was really, _really_ good,” I replied slyly and watched the gears in Zevran’s head work as he was deciding whether this was a victory, or a tease. It was the latter. I put my hand on Alistair’s where it rested on the chair’s armrest. He entwined his fingers with mine and pulled my hand up to his lips, planting a soft kiss on the back of my hand. Then he smiled innocently at Zevran, who frowned.

“It was funnier when you blushed and started stammering silly things,” he said.  
“You must be gaining confidence,” Leliana purred with a wink to Alistair. That made him shift in his seat a little.  
“Hah, maybe we should ask if he used his cock, or his mouth!” Oghren bellowed and laughed. Morrigan chuckled.  
“I’ll bet five gold ‘twas his mouth, we all know how he likes to use it,” she said coolly.

That caused another wave of laughter from our other companions. Alistair glared at Morrigan, she looked back with a scowl.

“Hey! At least he’d be quiet for a few minutes!” Oghren added and slapped his own knee as he roared with laughter again. Alistair sighed dramatically and made a defeated gesture with his free hand.

“You win, it was my mouth,” he said with a dramatic sigh, I gave Alistair a sideways look, not like him to share such information.  
“I kept it shut for an hour, and none of you will ever know the same pleasure,” he added sarcastically.

I burst out laughing, drawing some strange looks. They didn’t know just how much truth there was to Alistair’s words, I composed myself and gave an innocent look.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” I said apologetically when they looked at me expectantly. Zevran threw his hands in the air.  
“Ah, you Fereldans are so finicky, how will you learn to pleasure each other of you don’t talk about it?” he said.  
“Oh, _we_ talk about it,” I replied gesturing to Alistair and myself, “and I think we have already established I have been thoroughly pleasured.” Zevran gave me a wide grin, then shook his head.

“I miss our sexually tinted banter.”  
“Ahw,” I said and reached out to pet Zevran on his head, “poor kitty.”  
“Poor _horny_ kitty,” Alistair added dryly, eliciting another wave of laughter from our companions.

“So,” Zevran said while leaning back in his chair with his hands locked behind his head, “am I correct in assuming we are headed for the Brecilian Forest?”  
“You are, but we have some business in Redcliffe too, so we’ll be taking a slight detour,” Alistair replied. The others gave us a few questioning looks.

“Sten’s sword,” I clarified, “Dwyn has it, the dwarf that helped defend the village.”  
“We’ll be meeting with the Arl too, I’d rather not trust the things we need to speak about to paper,” Alistair added.

“Hey, Oghren,” I threw a piece of bread in his direction to get his attention, “what are your plans? Are you staying in Orzammar?” He looked up at me with surprise.  
“Eh, there isn’t really anything left for me here,” he grumbled, “I was thinking, if it’s alright with you, I’d go to the surface with you guys. See what that’s all about.” I smiled.  
“You’re welcome to join us, you’re mad enough to keep up,” I replied. Oghren looked like he was going to say something for a moment, then he closed his mouth and gave me a nod.

* * *

After taking our time to have breakfast, we said our goodbyes to Harrowmont. We didn’t linger, I was eager to be outside and hurried our party along. I was practically bouncing with excitement when the gates were opened. I hadn’t anticipated just how bright the sun would be, it was a bit of an anti-climax.

We all groaned and squinted our eyes. Except for Shale, who commented on our sensitive eyes. We were all too busy shielding our eyes from the sun’s glare to notice, it was noon and the sun was high in the sky.

“Maker’s breath, that’s bright,” I complained as I tried to peer through my fingers and eyelashes, it made my eyes water. I pulled my hood up as soon as I was able to see without holding my hands over my eyes. I looked around at the market stalls and the people milling about, then I took a deep breath of fresh air, well… not that fresh, it smelled of horse shit, garbage, and rotten fish.

“Hey, give me a minute Warden, pfew, that’s a lot of sky,” Oghren said shakily when he was able to look around.  
“Oh, yeah, take your time,” I replied, I hadn’t thought of what this would be like for Oghren, it was his first time on the surface.  
“Afraid you’ll fall up?” Zevran said with a grin, “I always thought that was a joke.”  
“Sod off,” Oghren replied and took a few deep breaths.

He took a step forward, his legs bent slightly at the knee and his arms spread out. He was tense, like a strung bow, ready to grab on to something. He _really_ _was_ afraid to fall up. Oghren took another few tentative steps.

“Alright, I think I’m good,” he said and looked around again, “how do you people live without a sodding roof over the damn place?” he mumbled to himself.  
“Pretty much the same way you do in Orzammar,” I replied reassuringly. Oghren grunted something unintelligible and took a drink from his flask.

We were on the road after getting some last supplies, mostly medical supplies like medicine, bandages, hook needle and gut, gauze, various herbs and other medicinal components. The Deep Roads had drained our resources, given our numerous injuries and Wynne treating them all. She was truly invaluable, and a good haggler. She got what we needed at two-thirds of the price that Zevran had gotten for it in Denerim. Not that we really needed it, while our resources were somewhat drained, our purse was not and it would probably stay that way for a while longer. But if we were going after the Dalish, there probably wouldn’t be too many opportunities to make some coin.

The first day of travel went smoothly, though Oghren was having some trouble with the light. His eyes weren’t adjusting as fast as ours were, he was constantly squinting and this gave him poor vision. The result was that he tripped over a rock or branch more than once, I admit I had to hold back a fit of laughter more than once as well. Maybe Alistair was on to something when he said I laugh at all the wrong moments. He had given me a few knowing and accusing smiles whenever Oghren tripped over something.

I stopped being glad we were back on the road when I lay down in my bedroll that night, after a feather bed it was impossible to get comfortable on the ground. Alistair made it a lot better though, he provided a wonderful distraction. I fell asleep easily after that.

* * *

Asher woke me, whining and pawing at my shoulder.

“Good boy,” I said sleepily after remembering where I was, and scratched him behind his ear. I lay on my back and stared at the tent ceiling for a while, we had left Orzammar behind. And while we were one step closer to our goal, I felt anxious. Some part of me still hadn’t truly believed I was trying to end a Blight by raising an army and killing the Archdemon. Mostly because it didn’t want to, I was terribly afraid. Afraid of losing Alistair.

While I was able to rationalise this most of the time, that fear snuck up on me at times like this. When everything was quiet and I lay awake at night. I could wake Alistair, see who was sitting by the fire, find some kind of distraction. But I didn’t. I lay on my back and stared into nothing. This was a worry that was all too rational, both of us had very slim chances of survival. Hell, if it hadn’t been for Wynne we would have been dead already a bunch of times. Or crippled at least...

We did a fairly good job of protecting each other, but one person could only do so much. My first taste of poison for example, Wynne and Zevran had combined their knowledge and expertise to make an antidote in the very short amount of time they had. Given recent history, I was more likely to die than Alistair was. I had taken the more lethal hits, I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind. Of not being able to be there when he needed me, to block the sword thrust at his back. I felt a staggering need to protect him as best I could, even if he didn’t really need it.

I snapped out of my contemplations when I felt Alistair stir beside me. I put my arms around him and whispered his name to wake him up gently. His eyes snapped open and he drew in a sharp breath, the tension in his body left him as the dream faded.

“Hush,” I whispered, “just a dream. I got you.” He sat up, running a hand through his hair and sighed.  
“I’m ok,” he whispered when I sat up with him and put a hand on his leg. He looked at me with tired eyes, even in the darkness of night, I could see the circles under them.  
“I keep dreaming about that broodmother…” he finally said.  
“Laryn,” I replied softly, Alistair shook his head.  
“I think I’m done sleeping for a while,” he said and moved to find some clothes. I followed him, now that we were both awake, we might as well take up our watch.

Alistair was quiet, which was unusual. If we’d had been having a conversation, it might have taken his mind off whatever was on it. I went through the past few days in my mind, there had been plenty of nasty experiences, any of them could be bugging him. Maybe he was doubting whether he made the right choice when he put Harrowmont on the throne in Orzammar. Or if there might have been a way to avoid destroying the Anvil of the Void and our hopes of an army of golems. It could be the broodmother, which he already mentioned dreaming about, and I felt that saying that the battle had been a traumatising event would be an understatement. I nearly died, again, in the fight against Branka. And Alistair had been scared out of his mind that this time would be the time I finally failed to cheat death. And to his credit, I was making a habit out of cheating death lately. My luck would run out sooner or later.

“That song you sang,” Alistair said, breaking the silence, “in the Deep Roads, when we found Ruck…”  
“Ein Lied,” I replied.  
“What?” Alistair asked.  
“The name of the song,” I clarified, “ein Lied.” He nodded.  
“Where did you learn a song like that?”

I paused, I had expected the question to come up but I still felt surprised by it. Without knowing it, he was asking after a memory that hurt.

“My mother used to sing it to me,” I replied softly and started to idly tear a leaf into small pieces. Memories came flooding back as I spoke the words. Memories of my mother cradling me and singing, to help me sleep when I was little. The way she smelled. The feeling of her cheek brushing mine when she hugged me. Our many sailing trips, where she taught me to tie knots and how to sail a ship with a large crew at my command. It had earned me a new name, Wolf Pup. Though I was only known by that name at the Storm Coast.

My grandfather had been Bann Faerchar Mac Eanraig, of the Storm Coast. He was also known as the Storm Giant, though my mother’s notoriety as the Seawolf was far greater. She and her three siblings had been raised on the deck of a ship and would play a large part in the Fereldan Rebellion.

I realised I had been quiet for a while when I saw Alistair staring at me. I flashed an impish grin.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought there for a moment.”  
“Because the song reminds you of your mother?” he asked. I nodded  
“Yeah…” and went back to tearing another leaf into pieces, “she once told me that when I was little, I was afraid of thunderstorms.” I continued while shredding another leaf.

“Whenever there was a thunderstorm, I would cling to her because I was so afraid. If a thunderstorm happened at night, I would crawl into bed with my parents and wake them up.” My fingers found a new leaf to tear at.  
“So, one day, when I wouldn’t let go of her during a thunderstorm, she told me a story about my grandfather. He was known as the Storm Giant. She asked me if I knew what that meant. I didn’t, I was four years old at the time. So she explained that he was known as the Storm Giant because his ship could brave any storm. Never would his ship sink under the crashing waves of the sea. And never would lightning ever dare strike close to him, because he knew the secret to beat it. And whenever I heard thunder, that was my grandfather deflecting the lightning on a massive shield. That was where the thunder came from, and my grandfather would always keep us safe from the storms, because we were close to him and the thunderstorms feared him.”

I smiled subconsciously.

“During the next thunderstorm after that, I was nowhere to be found. Everyone searched the castle frantically, under every bed, in every closet, and in every chest. They couldn’t find me, and my mother was frantic with worry. In the end she found me out on top of our highest tower, soaked to the bone, and with the proudest and most exhilarated look she had ever seen in a four-year old. I had been watching the storm, hoping to see my grandfather. I had gone to the highest tower because it gave me the best view. And I wasn’t scared of thunderstorms anymore, because I had brought a shield too and I would learn the secret to defeat lightning. I should mention that my ‘shield’ was actually the iron lid of one of the pots Nan used for cooking. And I had drawn a picture of a rune on it that I found in a book about enchantments in the library, claiming it would protect me from lightning. I had used the lid of a pan because it fit on my arm and the big shields were too heavy to lift up the stairs.”

I grinned.

“Maker, was she angry with me. But mostly just relieved I was fine. She explained that I should avoid going outside during a thunderstorm, because grandpa couldn’t be everywhere at once. And he had to be where the storm was wildest.” Alistair chuckled

“You were a clever kid,” he said while putting an arm around me.  
“When I was four years old, my thoughts didn’t go much further than which tin soldier would play hero.”  
“I was also more stupid than brave, and I still haven’t grown out of that,” I replied with a chuckle.  
“You were four,” Alistair said with a grin, “I don’t think the stupid-to brave ratio applies when you are four.”

We fell silent again, I snuggled up close to Alistair and without realising it, I softly sang the song my mother had sung to me countless times. If Alistair was surprised by it, he didn’t show it. He listened quietly, and remained quiet for a while after I finished. I was watching the rise and fall of his chest when he spoke up again.

“It’s a strange song,” he mused, “the melody is soft and comforting. But the words sound harsh.”  
“That’s just the way the language sounds. Anders may sound sharp but the song itself is actually quite sweet,” I explained.  
“What is it about?” he asked.  
“It's about minstrels I think... or maybe something like it. They comfort anyone who is sad with a song. Every time that happens, the song falls from the night sky. So, when you see a shooting star, you know someone is sad and being comforted with a song,” I explained. Alistair nodded.  
“I see why your mother would sing a song like that.” He paused, “so why did you sing it for Ruck?”

“Because he misses his mother. And I miss mine too. It was my way of showing him I understood… I suppose… I’m not sure if he got it, though,” I replied, feeling a little self-conscious.  
“I think you got your message across. In emotion if not in understanding,” Alistair said, mostly to himself.  
“It was like watching you reach out to whatever was left of Ruck, past his tainted mind, an pull it to the surface.”  
“He was still in there,” I replied, “though he was far away, and dying.” The last words tasted bitter in my mouth.

“You don’t think he has long,” Alistair said, it wasn’t a question. I nodded.  
“He is going to die down there, in pain, and alone. His end will not be quick, but he seemed… happy. Collecting his shiny worms and pretty rocks.”  
“Talking to pretty ladies,” Alistair added. I shot him a stern, questioning look.

“It was cute, the way you spoke to him. You got on his level, the way you did with Bevin in Redcliffe,” he said defensively. I arched an eyebrow.  
“If any sane man had called you ‘pretty lady’ they would be on the ground before they knew it. With Ruck, you seemed almost… maternal? Is that the word? I mean it in a good way, not an insult. This is coming out all wrong.”

I stared at him blankly.

“Maternal?” I asked. Alistair closed his mouth and looked at me apprehensively.  
“Should we add that to the list?” I asked.  
“List?” he replied tentatively.

“Bloodthirsty, dual-wielding, silver-tongued, _maternal_ , devil covered in darkspawnblood?”

We both started giggling.

“Maternal,” I snickered, “I’ve been called many things…”  
“Oh, come on,” Alistair replied, “being maternal isn’t so bad. I can totally see you as a mom.” I sighed and chuckled.  
“Fine, I’ll take it as a compliment, if you insist.”  
“Albeit grudgingly,” Alistair chuckled, “but as long as I’m off the hook, I’m not complaining.” I swatted at him playfully, he caught my hand and kissed it. Alistair’s eyes twinkled with laughter when I smiled at him. Alistair’s mood continued to improve over the rest of our watch. And come morning, he was eager for a sparring session. Amongst other things.

* * *

We informed Wynne and Sten of where we were going, and set off into the woods.

Asher padded along, he had some dog-business to attend to.

We had just found a good spot when Asher went still as a statue, moving his ears in a single direction. He was hearing something, and while there were plenty of things for a dog to hear in the forest, he only responded like this when he had spotted possible danger. I motioned for Alistair to follow us and stay quiet.

I didn’t sense any darkspawn, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. I had come to rely heavily on the ability to sense where my enemies were, the Deep Roads had done that. We often fought in the dark, meaning the only way to find your opponent is by sensing them. This had sharpened my ability to locate darkspawn to a point that I could fight them in pitch black darkness. So not being able to tell exactly where my target located itself, left me feeling poor-sighted.

Asher led us to a ridge, staying low to the ground, and peering over the edge. When I reached him and did the same, I saw four armed men standing over a fifth. They spoke in angry voices at the man on the ground, one holding the point of his sword to the man’s throat.

“We could take them,” Alistair whispered when he joined us. While I enjoyed playing hero from time to time, I hadn’t yet decided how to respond to the situation.

Until I recognised the man’s face.

He had been at Ostagar, a survivor. I gave a nod, pulled a dagger, and leapt over the ridge.

I drove my dagger deep into the neck of the man I landed on, slamming him into the ground. He started spraying blood when I pulled it out and threw it at the man holding the sword while still on my knees. He was about to kill their victim. It hit his abdomen, making him stagger before jamming his blade into the stomach of the man lying on the ground. I cursed, rolled to the side, and kicked a man’s legs from under him before rolling onto my feet.

Without time to draw my weapons, I drove the top of my head into another man’s chin while standing up, took hold of his arm, lifted it and stepped past him while twisting the arm and taking it with me. It send the man onto his knees before I felt the arm snap. He screamed in agony, but I was already at the man with my dagger in his belly. He thrust the sword forward clumsily while holding one hand to his abdomen just below the dagger. I sidestepped the incoming blade, grabbed hold of his wrist, and drove my elbow into his face before snatching the blade from his hand. I cut his throat in one smooth motion. Alistair and Asher had taken down the remaining two. I dropped the sword and rushed to the man I had been trying to save.

The gut wound was fatal, the foul smell of the contents of his bowels confirmed that. He’d be lucky to bleed out. A man could survive for weeks with a gut wound like this, but it wouldn’t be pleasant weeks. I took his hand in mine, trying to comfort him as he lay panting heavily.

“You-” he nearly choked on the word, “I know you. From, Ostagar,” he groaned and winched at the last word.  
“Yes, I was there, with the Grey Wardens,” I replied softly.  
“T-the King… I saw you, with the King,” he was having trouble forcing the words out, and clutched at my hand while looking up at me with pleading eyes.

“I, was with his honour guard. Pledged to protect. He was betrayed.”  
“I know,” I said softly, “it was Loghain.”  
“The King, he wanted to bring in troops from Orlais. Loghain… There were letters, in the King’s chest at the royal camp. They are still there, they are proof. Proof of what Loghain did. You have to get them.”  
“Tell me how,” I replied, looking the man straight in his eyes, promising I would find them. 

“I hid the key, under a rock,” the man began. He continued to explain where to find the key and warned us of what we could expect. Ostagar was darkspawn territory now.

There was nothing to be done, after entrusting me with his quest he asked me to give him a swift end. I honoured his request. Alistair still stood, staring at me as I folded the man’s hands over his chest and closed his eyes.

“You knew Cailan?” he asked slowly when I turned around to face him. I nodded.  
“Fergus and he were about the same age. When we’d visit Denerim, they spent time together as friends. And I followed my big brother,” I replied.  
“How well did you know him?” Alistair asked.  
“I knew him better when we were kids,” I replied, “we didn’t see him as much after he inherited. I think Anora didn’t like the idea of the Couslands being as close to the King as the Mac Tirs were.”  
“What was he like?” Alistair asked, “when you were kids?”

“Just a boy really,” I replied, “he liked stories about heroes and acting them out. Fergus would play the bad guy and Cailan would pretend he was saving me from my brother. He thought it was hilarious when I said that sitting around waiting for a strange man to save you was a pretty dumb strategy and clonked Fergus over the head with a stick, saving myself. He was a good friend, when he greeted Duncan and me at Ostagar, he promised me Howe would be brought to justice. And he would have seen to it, I know he would have, if he hadn’t been betrayed.” Alistair smiled a little.

“I like to think of him as a good man,” he said, “kind and fair. But at the end of the day I never really knew my brother. All I could ever do was watch from afar. It’s good to hear you say he was a good friend to you. Coming from you, that means a lot.” I took Alistair’s hand after wiping my bloody ones on my leggings.  
“He really was good,” I said, “like you. You are more like him than you know, and Maric too, I think.” He gave me a sad smile and kissed my cheek.  
“Thank you. We should tell the others what happened here, then move. We don’t want to be found by their colleagues,” he nodded at the dead.

We went back to camp without sparring and told the rest about our encounter. Alistair had decided to continue going to Redcliffe for now, but after speaking with the Arl and seeing what he knew about the Dalish elves, we might go to Ostagar instead. Written proof of King Cailan’s intention to allow Orlesian troops to enter Ferelden should shine an interesting light on Loghain. He made no secret about what he thought of Orlais and Empress Celene. We would decide after speaking to Arl Eamon. I noticed Morrigan giving me a hopeful look, but she didn’t voice an opinion on the matter. I gave her a meaningful nod, I had not forgotten about my promise to her.

If we were going to Ostagar, we were going after Flemeth too.


	37. Return to Ostagar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group returns to Redcliffe, where the decision to return to Ostagar is made.

We got to Redcliffe without too much trouble. We encountered darkspawn, but we were pleased to see that the Circle Tower had dispatched teams of mages and Templars to guard the roads. One of them appeared to be training the younger mages. Good, they would need all the practice they could get.

Wynne took it upon herself to speak encouraging words to the mages we met and took the opportunity to plant some more stories. The latest was about the Deep Roads where we fought bravely side by side. Which was true, but she was making it sound a whole lot more storybook than it actually was. She did that to make the stories easier to tell, people liked a certain familiarity to their gossip. The handsome knight saves the girl, the clever girl outsmarts the ancient dwarven Paragon, that sort of thing. She made it even better by inventing a magical piece of armor, given by a wandering old man asking riddles.

There are no old men in the Deep Roads, people don’t get to grow old down there. We did, in fact, possess enchanted armor but we had Sandal to thank for that. And we did encounter a strange man in the Deep Roads, but Ruck was hardly a sage speaking in riddles and carrying magical items. Except for the ring he gave me. The best lies have a bit of truth.

Arl Eamon was happy to hear of our success in Orzammar and offered to start making arrangements on our behalf for the dwarven army. He also opted to have it stationed at Redcliffe until it needed to march. A clever move, Redcliffe had a central position and while it was notoriously difficult to take through battle, very few able men were left to defend it. Should Loghain get it in his head to attack Redcliffe, he’d think twice if the dwarven army was stationed there with the purpose of aiding Ferelden against the Blight. He wouldn’t dare attack it. The Blight _was_ coming, there were no doubts of that anymore. He wouldn’t risk having to stand alone if Denerim got attacked, and if it did, the dwarven army would come to his aid.

Of course, I would have them sack it if it meant killing Loghain. But such measures were out of proportion, we were planning a more subtle approach.

Darkspawn remained a threat, but who better to fight them than the dwarves that fought them all along. Plus, he could afford it. The soldiers would need food and supplies during their stay, and Arl Eamon had them. If a land was tearing itself apart, in the end, the most power would be held by the one that controlled the food. A man can’t eat gold or steel. And you can't grow crops in a war zone. 

Arl Eamon had been busy, finding out who supported Loghain and had started to cultivate stronger ties with the ones that opposed him. He also suggested to have the Circle Tower bring in Orlesian mages.

It would piss Loghain off, but he would be hard pressed to stop it. If it meant turning the Circle Tower into a stronger ally against the Blight, I didn’t mind stepping on Loghain’s toes. Isolde was apparently very close with the Grand Cleric and even had correspondences with the Divine. With the Chantry behind us, Loghain would risk losing yet another ally if he went against it. Because he would be obstructing measures to defend against the Blight he should be fighting.

So we put Isolde to work, she was eager to help after all we had done for them. Though she still didn’t show any hint of taking responsibility for what had happened. That didn’t outweigh our current needs however, and I let it go.

Connor still didn’t remember anything about what happened, but the Arl had declared that he would be send to the Circle Tower when the Blight was over. It was impossible to tell how long that would take, but I didn’t blame the Arl. It made sense that he would rather have his son safe at home during these times. Connor himself seemed just happy that his father was alive and well. Maybe he hadn’t fully realised yet, that he would have to leave home.

I spoke to him briefly, he was a polite young man, and insisted on thanking me properly for my aid. He gave me a drawing he made, it was a griffon with a Grey Warden riding it, black hair streaming behind her. It was the sweetest thing, really. Which led to Alistair making several mom-jokes. He denied that he was baby-crazy but stated that he was not objecting to making one. Or several.

He was getting bolder, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. It eventually escalated and I ended up bent over a desk in the library right before a meeting with the Arl. My knees were still weak and my cheeks were still flushed when we returned to speak with Eamon about going back to Ostagar, he pretended not to notice. He hadn’t received any word about the Dalish yet, but still suggested we only took a small group to Ostagar. We could take horses from his stable, it would allow much faster travel. Not to mention better chances of escape, should it come to that.

After all that, I went looking for Sten. I found him waiting impatiently at the castle gate. Well, Asher found him he had the better nose for that sort of thing.

“Yes, I’m ready to go,” I said before he could open his mouth and strode past him.

He followed with an approving grunt. It was a short walk down to the docks, the corpses were gone and people had started repairs. Things looked a whole lot better than the last time I was down there. I knocked on Dwyn’s door and waited patiently. When nobody opened I knocked again, announcing that I would pick his lock again if I needed to. Dwyn finally opened the door for me.

“Hello Warden, still alive and kicking I see,” he said as he eyed me up and down.  
“Hello, Dwyn. How have things been?” I replied politely.  
“No corpses running around killing folk, things have been alright,” he answered while stroking his beard.

“What brings you to my door Warden, the Arl is up there,” he said, pointing up at Redcliffe Castle.  
“You bought a Qunari sword recently, from a merchant named Faryn, can we see it?” I asked casually.  
“Why?” Dwyn asked with squinted eyes, looking at the huge Mabari at my side and the enormous Qunari on the other. I pointed to Sten.

“That’s why,” I said bluntly.

Dwyn grumbled a little and cursed under his breath, but he brought the sword out for us.

“You’re an ice cold lady, Warden,” he said and handed Sten the sword.  
“Is it yours?” I asked, though the look on Sten’s face should have been enough.

He nodded and strapped it to his back. Offering Dwyn his old sword in return. The dwarf looked quite sour but didn’t protest.

“We had a little talk with Faryn up at Orzammar. He took my friend’s sword off a battlefield, but hadn’t bothered to check if there were any survivors. Then Sten threatened to show him what the punishment for theft is among the Qun. Remind him of that. Because the only reason Sten hasn’t shown him yet, is because I told him not to. Now, I’m not unreasonable, and I’ll agree you didn’t even know you were buying a stolen sword. And now that you’ve so gracefully returned it, we are glad to let bygones be bygones. We agree you have a right to get your money back, but you’ll have to get it from Faryn. And that sword Sten just gave you as a replacement is good steel, so I consider you properly compensated.” Dwyn nodded and swallowed when I finished talking.

“Good to see you Dwyn, stay safe,” I said in a cheery tone and turned to leave.

Sten was beaming, reunited with his sword. I don’t think I have ever seen him happier. Sten had apparently decided I was now his best friend and called me 'Kadan.' He explained it translated to ‘where the heart lies’, it was used for a person one cared about and often used for a close friend. That made me blush a bit, he was sharing a very intimate custom with me, and Sten didn’t do that lightly. He was in high spirits, even offering me one of his precious cookies. I asked Sten if I could call him Kadan in return, and he actually smiled at that, though he preferred Sten, he’d rather not have people start calling him Kadan because they thought it was his name.

“Hey Sten, now that you have your sword back, that means you can go home right? Report to the Arishok?” I asked slowly as we entered Redcliffe Castle. He nodded.  
“It does. Why do you ask?” he replied with a sideways look, I shrugged.  
“I like having you around, and you are invaluable to our little band of misfits. But I would understand if you wanted to fulfill your mission, and I wouldn’t want you to feel you are stuck here. You’re free to do as you wish, you know, forget about that Revered Mother in Lothering, you were never my prisoner.”

Sten gave me another of his rare smiles.

“As I see it, my mission is not yet complete. If I stay to stop the Blight, I think I will be able to give the Arishok a much better answer. Don’t you agree? I will see this through with you, Kadan, I promised I would repent.” I reached up to put a hand on his shoulder.  
“Thank you, Sten, you are a true friend,” then flashed a grin, “where the heart lies.” He put one of his massive hands on my shoulder in return.  
“Where the heart lies,” he replied.

“What now?” Zevran asked as he rounded a corner looking at our brotherly stance.

“Were you two having a moment?” he asked with a sly grin. Sten frowned.  
“How can you _have_ a moment? Time is not yours,” he said while crossing his arms.

Sten knew damn well what Zevran had meant, but taking the over-literal approach set the elf off balance. I had caught him playing dumb to get out of similar situations before. Usually set up by Zevran.

“Never mind,” he said, “Alistair is looking for you,” he said as he turned to me and wriggled his eyebrows.  
“Where is he?”  
“Last I saw him, he was in the great hall,” Zevran replied.  
“Ok, thanks. Meet us there before dinner, we need to talk about Ostagar,” I said and left to find Alistair, Asher followed.

“Ah! My friend! You got your sword back!” I heard Zevran cheer and Sten grunt a reply. I left them to it.

Alistair was sitting by the fire in the main hall when I walked in. I meant to sit in the chair opposite of him, but he pulled me into his lap instead. I let myself be pulled into the large chair and sat across Alistair’s legs, leaning against his shoulder while he put an arm around me. Asher nestled himself in front of the fire.

“Did you find Sten’s sword?” he asked as I nestled myself against him.  
“Yep, and Dwyn gracefully returned it,” I replied with a sigh.  
“So, you bullied him, right?”  
“Absolutely.”  
“You’re terrible.”  
“I know.” We enjoyed the calm for a moment, listening to the fire cackle.

“So, return to Ostagar…” Alistair whispered.  
“Yeah… can’t say I’m looking forward to that,” I replied softly.  
“That’s reasonable…”  
“Reasonable?”  
“Yes, reasonable. You want those documents, but you’re not thrilled they are at Ostagar. Where all the Grey Wardens died alongside our King, passing this shit show to us. The reason why Loghain is hunting us, as we didn’t have the decency to properly die,” Alistair explained.

“Right, reasonable,” I answered smiling patiently, “there will also be a lot of-”  
“There is always a lot of darkspawn,” he interrupted with a shrug.

_I was going to say memories._

“Alistair,” I said with a sigh.  
“Yes?”  
“Stop beating around the bush,” I looked up at him, “Duncan and Cailan died there.” His eyes were distant and weary and he took a few moments before he spoke.

“If at all possible, I want to give them a kind of funeral. Something… I can’t let them rot among the darkspawn. They deserve better.” I put my hand on his cheek to make him look at me.  
“We will,” I whispered and gently kissed him. He returned the kiss gently at first, but it grew more intense as he held me tighter and pulled me up closer against him.

“There you are,” came Teagan’s voice from the other end of the hall. I nearly jumped out of Alistair’s lap at the interruption.  
“Oh don’t mind me,” he said with a grin as he approached and motioned for me to stay seated, “I don’t imagine you get to spend a lot of time in each other’s arms on the road,” he sat down casually, not the least bit embarrassed that he walked in on an intimate moment.

“And as far as propriety goes, I was never an exemplary gentleman,” Teagan added. I snickered in a most unladylike fashion.  
“Had your share of girls in your lap, did you?” I asked, Teagan replied with a cheeky smile.  
“None as lovely as you, though.” Alistair shot Teagan a sharp look for a brief moment, then seemed to remember Teagan’s easy manners and relaxed, resting a hand on my hip.

“Eamon told me to inform you we have five horses available for you that should be strong enough for the journey and some hard riding. The rest of your companions are welcome to stay here until your return,” Teagan said as he helped himself to a cup of wine.

“Five,” Alistair said thoughtfully, “should we take two of our companions and use the fifth horse for our packs?” I nodded.   
“And Asher too, he can keep up,” I replied. He looked up at me with his head resting on his paws and wagged his tail.   
“Who are you taking with you?” Teagan asked.

I had given it some thought, I was planning on going after Flemeth too so Morrigan would have to remain here. Zevran wasn’t used to low temperatures, and Ostagar would likely be covered in snow. Same for Leliana.

“I kind of, already promised Wynne she could come,” Alistair said with a lopsided grin. I nodded.   
“Good, I prefer to have a healer with us.”   
“Who will be your fourth?” Teagan asked, Asher gave a low growl, “sorry, fifth,” Teagan added.

“Well, Shale is not going to ride any horse made of flesh and blood. Leliana and Zevran come from warmer regions and I doubt they have suitable clothing. So it’s either Sten or Oghren,” I replied.   
“Oghren?” Teagan asked.   
“Fela is in the habit of collecting people mad enough to join us, and out came Oghren. We met him in Orzammar and he guided us down the Deep Roads,” Alistair explained briefly.

“A dwarf then,” Teagan mused, “can’t say I’ve ever really _known_ a dwarf.”   
“Take every stereotype you know, and you’ve got Oghren,” Alistair said with a chuckle, “great warrior, loves booze, foul mouth, good heart.”   
“Sten would have a seizure if he heard you describe someone like that,” I snickered. Teagan frowned at the memory, and shook his head.

“I say we take Sten, I don’t know how dwarves respond to low temperatures, but Qunari are virtually indestructible. Or at least, Sten is,” I offered and watched Alistair think.   
“With Oghren, we’d have infinite booze, though…”   
“Wait, what?” Teagan asked with a sceptic look.   
“Somehow, he manages to be perpetually drunk. We still have no idea how he does it, but we suspect his flask is a magical booze fountain,” I said in a conspiratory tone.

“Mystery of the ages, heh,” Oghren belched and took a seat.   
“So why am I sitting here instead of getting drunk?” he inquired. Then he seemed to notice me sitting in Alistair’s lap and gave me a fat wink and a wriggle of the eyebrows. I smirked back at him.   
“Looks like you’re doing fine on the getting drunk part, with that magical flask of yours. Five of us will go to Ostagar to retrieve the letters we told you about. Counting Asher. The rest will stay here in the meantime,” I explained. Oghren nodded in understanding and leaned back in his chair, eyeing Teagan.

“Have we met?” Oghren asked and squinted his eyes. Teagan shook his head.   
“We haven’t, I am Bann Teagan of Rainesfere.”   
“And I’m Oghren, the pain in Orzammar’s ass,” he said and extended a hand.

Teagan shook it and looked unsure of how to respond. Then he offered Oghren wine, and their conversation turned friendly. As I had discovered over the last few days, the surest way to Oghren’s friendship was sharing booze with him.

When Morrigan walked in, she actually smiled at Teagan. Well, her lips were curled into something that could have been a smile, though it was quite scary. But that’s Morrigan, scary. Zevran came to make suggestive comments at Alistair and me, and make dirty jokes with Oghren. Wynne scolded them when she joined us. Leliana slapped Oghren when he slapped her ass, and Shale asked her if she wanted her to crush Oghren’s head. I was trying to determine if she was serious when Sten commented that he might drink less with a crushed head.

Shale didn’t do that of course. It was part of their harmony, each had their counterpart but they still wove together into an intricate system. The result was that it felt like a family, oddly matched as we were. Teagan noticed it too I think, he sat back to watch us as we discussed who would go to Ostagar. But he seemed too focussed to just be listening, he was, in fact, watching us closely. All the while, a smile teased at the corners of his mouth and his eyes were full of amusement.

“It wants to leave me behind?” Shale said, “who will fare better in such conditions then I? Who will crush the darkspawn when it is doing flesh-related things, like bleeding?”

I smiled to myself, Shale wanted to come so she could have my back. She had been almost friendly lately, some of her comments could almost be called affectionate.

“You are invaluable as a warrior Shale, but will you be able to keep up with horses? And truly, no offense, but there is a lot of noise when you run. And we want to get in, and get out of there quickly and quietly. You are much more suited to remain here and see to Redcliffe’s safety, the more everyone is aware that there is a golem watching this town, the less likely anyone will do something stupid.”

Shale did the golem-equivalent of pouting and mumbled that the snow might muffle it a bit. Zevran didn’t protest, he agreed he was not meant for weather conditions such as those at Ostagar. If we could only go with four people, he’d rather let someone else go to make sure the right people were at my back. _Wait_ , five. _Five_ people, Asher is people too, as he pointed out by letting out a disapproving gruff. Morrigan was quiet, and didn’t protest when I told her to stay in Redcliffe. She knew why. Leliana and Oghren both protested too but ultimately agreed to stay. Sten and Wynne left to start to prepare to leave in the morning. We’d spend the night at Redcliffe Castle, a good meal and a soft bed seemed like proper preparation as well.

* * *

We made it to Ostagar after four days. We had stayed off the roads and had relatively little trouble with wandering darkspawn.

They were there of course, a lot of them. But we could outrun them. And there is something very satisfying to charging darkspawn on a horse and cut them down from the saddle. Remember I’m ambidextrous, I had no dominant side to speak of. So I moved through them a lot faster than Alistair and Sten, who were both right-handed and needed to get their target on the right side of the horse.

We set up camp when were about half a mile from Ostagar. Alistair and I tended to the horses, unsaddling and feeding them, getting water, and rubbing them down. In the meantime Wynne had gotten a fire going in a pit about a foot deep and Sten was collecting more wood. Wynne had told him to get a specific kind that burned without smoke, this way a fire wouldn’t mark our position from miles away. Alistair and I moved on to setting up the tents while Wynne and Sten prepared a meal. We intended to spent a night at camp, and go in the next day. After nightfall, I left camp under the cover of darkness to scout ahead.

Alistair objected, I pointed out I was quicker, quieter, smaller, _and_ more nimble than the three of them and that taking anyone with me would only make me more likely to be discovered. So we compromised and agreed that Asher would follow me about fifty feet behind. He could come for help if I needed it. I didn’t need to worry too much about the darkspawn sensing me, they were practically everywhere. This allowed me to blend into the mass of stimuli. And my senses were sharper than theirs.

I crept around the base of a tree to get a better look at the old bridge Alistair and I had crossed under heavy fire to reach the Tower of Ishal. It was snowing, and though that made for poor visibility, I could still make out some sort of statue, raised on the bridge.

I had seen darkspawn do it before, when they stuck around somewhere for a while, they got creative. Making their own unholy shrines from bones, rocks, feathers, and whatever else they could find. Though the materials were fairly mundane, each and every one of their creations radiated corruption, killing everything in its near vicinity. With some, it was almost tangible in the air, as was the case with this one. Far away as it was, I had felt it before I saw it. I took note of that as being unusual and maybe worth looking into. 

Other than that, the bridge looked empty. There were no fires, no movement. And being blanketed in snow, the area was eerily quiet. The cold bit my skin and I started to shiver while looking up. The cloak Isolde had given me was nice, but useless in this weather. I had picked it because the dark wavy cloth would be good for sneaking, which it _was_ , in warm places...

I stalked along the treeline to find the place where the entrance to the camp had once been. It was blocked, probably by our own people to put an obstacle between them and the darkspawn, and, unfortunately, me. As I tried making my way around, I spotted the first fire.

I reached out, isolating the area of my focus and shutting out the rest. I had been honing this skill for a while now, and it allowed me to get an estimate of the number of darkspawn around that fire. Add three or four scouts watching a perimeter. I guessed I was looking at about fifteen darkspawn in total. I moved on, sneaking past and around the great hall where Cailan had instructed Alistair and me to light the beacon on top of the Tower of Ishal.

Age old rubble and a fallen tree allowed me to climb onto the roof of the ruin. It would give me a better view, and I doubted any darkspawn would be looking up while it was snowing. Yes, it was crazy and dangerous to climb onto a frozen ruin in the black of night while snow obscured your vision. If you were inexperienced in these things, that is.

I was carefully testing my footing with every step and I climbed the rubble, patience was key. You rush, you slip, you fall. Snow and ice made the stone slippery, but I found my way up without breaking my neck. The wind tugged at my cloak more forcefully up there and I pulled it closer around my shoulders while peering out over the ruin in a squatting position. Snow clung to the dark fabric, giving me a natural sort of camouflage.

At the same time I was starting to curse myself for not wearing my own cloak, this thing didn’t keep the water off worth a damn. My body heat was causing the snow on my clothes to melt.

I spotted five more fires from my vantage point, feeling out every single one. I sat motionless, isolating and examining each area through the Taint. I pushed my focus to the point that I didn’t realise I was slowly being covered in snow while my clothes slowly got damp. I went over the old camp’s lay-out in my head, determining where the fires were located. Memorising them and potential bottlenecks we could use. They outnumbered us heavily but the fires were pretty far apart.

Snow muffled sound traveling through the ruin and even in the dark I could see it wouldn’t be hard to stay out of sight. It was like a tornado had rampaged the place, there was so much debris spread out, the only way to get a decent view of the place was to get somewhere up high. So I sought out high places too, dedicating them to memory so we would have an idea from where they might be watching. The cold had slowly been seeping into my bones, and it was getting difficult not to shiver.

I snuck back to camp, back-tracking a few times to make a mess of my trail despite feeling colder than I’d ever been. Darkspawn weren’t very clever, as long as the trail was confusing enough, they wouldn’t bother searching out whoever left it with so many of their own running around.

I made it to the ground safely, jumping the last bit and using the snow to break my fall. I spotted Asher in the treeline, watching me but keeping his distance. Good dog, I thought to myself. And after thoroughly ruining my trail, I went back to camp. Which involved crossing a patch of ice and walking up a stream for a while. There was no way to hide all my tracks in the snow, so I used a few areas where I wouldn’t leave any footprints. Added a few false trails leading the wrong way, and circling back. The falling snow would take care of the rest.

I announced myself before I walked into camp. I’d rather not end up on the wrong side of a spirit blast from Wynne. You can’t block those with a sword. They all visibly relaxed when I emerged from the treeline.

“Bad news, I couldn’t see shit. Good news, _they_ couldn’t see shit,” I reported as I stepped into the light of the fire pit.

The heat coming off it suddenly reminded me how cold I was. Wynne shot me a look that I knew meant _language!_ The snow clinging to my clothes had been melting and had soaked through my clothes to my skin. I started taking off the wet cloak and hung it by the fire.

“No headcount?” Sten asked.   
“I have an estimate,” I replied and started taking off my boots.

“If we’re lucky, we’re looking at about seventy. If we’re unlucky, the grand total is closer to ninety.” I put my boots by the fire and fumbled at the clasps of my armor with numb fingers. “I saw six fires spread across the ruin- _Goddamnit_ , can you help me with this Alistair?” I motioned to the clasps and showed him my hands, nearly blue with cold.

Alistair took over from me, muttering how I was soaking wet, and I continued explaining.

“The place is a mess, debris everywhere with a layer of snow on top about a foot thick, plenty of cover to obscure us from vision. And I don’t think they’ll be able to swarm us if we use our surroundings as bottlenecks. There’s a few places where they might have placed scouts to watch for intruders. I remember most of the lay-out of the old army encampment, I’ll draw you a map once I get into some dry clothes and my fingers start working.”

I shivered violently as Alistair helped me strip my armor. After looking at me closely, he went to get a blanket.

“Wynne, could you help her take off the rest of those wet clothes? And stay by the fire,” he said. The tone of his voice left no room for objection.   
“Oh dear girl you are freezing,” she said as she helped me get my tunic over my head.

Sten looked down at his sword and focused on sharpening it with a whetstone. My hair was soaked and clung to my skin when the fabric of my tunic was removed. My teeth were clattering as Wynne peeled my wet trousers off. Meanwhile Alistair wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and started rubbing my arms vigorously to keep circulation going. Wynne did the same with my legs and send Sten to get dry clothes from my pack. 

Half an hour later I was dressed in dry clothes, and wrapped in a blanket close to the fire pit with Alistair and Asher to warm me up, sipping a cup of tea Wynne had made for me. The pins and needles in my arms and legs told me the circulation was getting back to normal and I had avoided hypothermia. I had been sitting in the snow for too long when I was feeling out the numbers around the campfires.

I felt a little stupid for losing track like that. Wynne scolded me for it, Alistair scolded me for it, and even Sten gave a disapproving look telling me to be more careful with myself.

“How did you even figure out those numbers?” Alistair asked curiously.   
“I uh… I’ve been practicing at seeking them out, the darkspawn, through the Taint. I did it in the Deep Roads constantly because of the darkness,” I said with a slight shrug.   
“Seeking out the darkspawn?”   
“Yeah, they all give off an individual signal if you listen closely. Well, it’s not really listening, is it, reaching… maybe? It’s much easier to pinpoint them if you can pick out the different signals and localise them.”   
“You’re doing this already?”   
“What do you mean, already?” I replied in a suspicious tone. I felt some more unpleasant surprises about carrying the Taint coming.

“You’ve been at this for, what… five, maybe six months now? And you already sense them more accurately than me, now you’re even seeking them out,” Alistair said.   
“So?”   
“So, that’s crazy fast.”   
“Oh… But, you’ve only been a Grey Warden for six months longer than me, maybe I’m just… crazy fast?” Alistair shook his head.

“No, I mean it should take years. Not even all the senior Wardens could do it, most only with small groups, you just went and scoped out an entire fort,” he said with a thoughtful look.   
“So… are we attributing this to my being highly sensitive? Or are we assuming the Taint must be stronger with me? Is that even possible?”   
“I don’t know…” Alistair said, worry mixed with frustration on his features.

“All that secrecy is starting to piss me off more and more… they could have at _least_ made it accessible for us, right? I would even run a gauntlet for it, this complete lack of any information is just…” Alistair glared into the fire pit and made an angry gesture.   
“Crippling,” I said.

“Maybe we should write a beginner’s guide to being a Grey Warden when this is finished,” Alistair said bitterly, “prevent others for being put in exactly _this_ position.” I snickered.   
“Page one; welcome to the ranks of the Grey Wardens, you are poorly informed and _fucked_ ,” I said with a grin and gave Alistair a sideways look.

He gave me a wry smile, worry lining his face.   
“We should go to Soldiers Peak…” I studied his face as he spoke the words and guessed his thoughts, “if we have time.”

* * *

We got going at first light, had a quick breakfast and packed up camp. We left the horses packed and ready to go. The last half mile to Ostagar, we would go on foot. I lead the way, taking the same route as the night before and having my companions tread in my footsteps. I didn’t want to lead any darkspawn directly back to our horses. So we trudged our way through the snow like a family of ducks until we got to the stream we needed to wade through. After that it didn’t really matter, we’d be gone by nightfall.

“Coming here makes me feel old…” Alistair said gloomily as we approached the old encampment. Wynne shot him a sideways look but let the comment slide.

“We’re nearly there, first guard post is up ahead,” I said quietly, silencing Alistair. I pointed ahead and scanned the wall of the fortress for any movement. No darkspawn appeared to be patrolling it, and the fort seemed abandoned like it had when I came skulking around the night before. But I knew for a fact that it wasn’t. I could tell they were there, they just weren’t in sight.

I spotted a tripwire I hadn’t seen the night before, and disarmed it before any of our companions could accidentally blow us up. I told them to stick to the trees and watch their step. When we reached the breech in the wall I had used to get in the night before, I motioned them closer. I had spotted a group of six, standing around and not really doing anything. There would probably be more lurking, and fat chance that they would come running when they heard us take out the first six. We weren’t going to be able to do this quietly, so I gestured for Wynne to have healing spells ready. I drew my swords and watched Alistair and Sten do the same. I knew the next guard post would be a ways off, so I didn’t worry about raising an alarm and getting swarmed. Besides, darkspawn were seldom that organised.

I snuck ahead to take out the first two, surprising the others when they saw my victims being run through from behind. They immediately attacked me of course, and I backed away to draw them closer to Sten and Alistair who were waiting to flank them from both sides. It was over quickly but while we were fighting the remaining darkspawn, six more showed up. Two shrieks among them. Routine took over, shrieks die first. The grating sound they produced always send chills down my spine. I sidestepped and spun to avoid a claw thrust at me and cut the shriek down its back, using my momentum to slice at the other as I turned and bent back to avoid another claw. With a few more clean swipes, they dropped dead at my feet.

I thrust one blade a the nearest darkspawn, stopping it dead in its tracks when the tip of my blade peeked out of its chest. Alistair finished it with a swipe at its neck, severing the head. Sten had nearly cut one in two and swung his sword at another, producing the sharp sound of steel rushing through the air at high speed. Alistair took the last with a mighty shield bash. I could hear the bones snap upon impact with the wood. As it went down, I noticed a pair of familiar greaves.

They were Cailan’s.

I unceremoniously started stripping the darkspawn of Cailan’s greaves, rubbing them with snow to clean off the corruption that stuck to the finely worked metal. Then I kicked at the dead darkspawn that had been wearing them. And again, and again, and again until Alistair lay a hand on my shoulder. It sickened me to see Cailan’s greaves on a creature so foul, worse, it meant they had found and looted his body.

Alistair looked equally infuriated but he led me away from the corpse and took the greaves. It was fitting, that they should be his. From brother to brother, from King to King. Working on that last one. We continued to seek out pieces of Cailan’s armor after that, Alistair quietly claimed each as his own. We retrieved the key to Cailan’s war chest and went looking for what was once the royal encampment.

Most of it was in shambles, expertly turned upside down and stripped of anything of value. They even broke the legs of the tables and chairs looking for loot. In the midst of it stood a single chest, steel worked around the wood and bearing the royal seal. The darkspawn had obviously been trying to get into it, the metal was dented in places, and it seemed that at one point, they had attempted to set fire to it. The wood had some scratches but nothing major. Scratches on the lock told me they had tried to pick it. But from the looks of it, they never managed to get inside.

I took the key from my pocket and put it in the lock, with little resistance, the lock turned and clicked. I noted it felt very mundane to open a chest like this after what darkspawn had tried to break into it. Boring, even. But easy too, and I liked easy more.

I opened the chest and looked inside. A bundle of papers lay atop a beautiful sword in a dark sheath.

“This is…” I reached for the sword, it was light in my hands as I drew it from its scabbard, the metal shone brightly in the sunlight. Runes were etched into it with lyrium, I could only guess at the enchantments on this weapon. I let out a small cry of surprise, turning to show it to Alistair. His eyes widened a little at the blade and he carefully reached for it.

“This is King Maric’s blade,” he said quietly. He brushed a thumb along the metal, testing its edge. Without a word, I reached for Alistair’s waist to tie the scabbard to his sword belt. Then I took out the bundle of papers still in the chest, briefly looking through some of them to make sure they were what we were looking for. I tucked them into a pouch at my belt after I was satisfied these were the letters we were after. I also found a nice coin pouch with fifty gold royals, an old drawing of an elven woman, and some vials of what I assumed must be useful to Zevran. I tucked all of it away and got up.

Sten arched an eyebrow when I suggested we continue to search the ruin.

“We have what we came for, I see no use in lingering here any longer,” he said brusquely.   
“Not yet. I want to look for Duncan and Cailan. They might not mean anything to you, but it’s important to Alistair and me. And we could really use your help,” I smiled sweetly at my tall cranky friend. He would never admit it, but he had a soft spot for me. So he shrugged and nodded. Sten would have stayed and helped if I had insisted anyway, but like this, he got to save face. I had not guessed it when I met him in Lothering, but there was a subtle man behind that intimidating exterior. He took advantage of any prejudice a person might have about him and maintained a perfect harmony of looking menacing and looking like he had no idea what was going on.

Of course he usually knew _exactly_ what was going on but used feigned ignorance to his advantage masterfully, as demonstrated when Zevran asked if we were having a 'moment' the other day. Most people just assumed he was socially awkward, but that was exactly what he wanted them to think. A quiet man is too often taken for a dim-witted man, especially if the quiet man is a lumbering mass of muscles, metal, and sharp edges. And if he _was_ , in truth, a bit socially awkward, he didn’t let it stop him from playing the people around him.

In the end, I realised with horror, that what I had assumed to be a statue, was Cailan. He had been stripped naked and spiked to a crude crescent pointing upwards. His body had been preserved, and put on display. Spears and arrows pierced his chest and arms where they held him up. He was frozen solid, snow and ice clinging to the pale skin. I looked to my side, at Alistair, who stared up at his brother with a look of outrage and grief.

Before I could speak, two bodies rose from the snow. They appeared to be corpses, similar to those in Redcliffe. An emissary on the other side of the bridge seemed to have raised them, and it fled when I started moving towards it. I stood facing a handful of dead men at the end of the bridge, waiting for them to draw near as my companions followed. I stood still, their attention was on me now, it would give the others an advantage.

Alistair crashed into the first, its brittle body falling apart upon impact. Meanwhile he lashed at another, cutting its shoulder and causing it to stumble forward. Wynne incinerated it while Sten and Alistair moved in on the remaining corpses. I followed and sprinted after the emissary. It raised more corpses before it disappeared into the Tower of Ishal.

I cursed, looking back over my shoulder before engaging the corpses. The others were being kept busy by another score of corpses, I was on my own for now. Decapitation worked best on these monsters, but anything that fractured the top of the spine worked just fine, and after being exposed to the elements for so long, their bodies were frozen and brittle.

I took the first out with a high kick to its head, then spun with my left blade extended to decapitate a second. I knocked the next one aside by slamming my shoulder into its chest, which cracked and caused the spine to bend at an awkward angle. I let that one take care of itself as it flailed about, stumbling and falling. I ran, stepping lightly onto a large boulder to leap high into the air. With the force of my fall behind my kick, I smashed another rib cage, rolled upon impact with the ground and using the momentum to swipe up at the last corpse standing between me and the Tower of Ishal. I looked up at it as Sten, Alistair, Asher, and Wynne caught up to me.

The Tower stood looming over me. This was where I got my first taste of what we were truly fighting, what it looked like when darkspawn attacked en masse. A couple of darkspawn in the Korkari Wilds was nothing compared to what they could do in massive groups. I was attempting to stare the tower down by force of will when Alistair nudged my shoulder.

“You ok?” he asked and I gave a determined nod.   
“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get after that emissary,” I replied and started walking. The Tower was not empty, like last time, it was crawling with darkspawn. There were no burning barriers though, so I counted that as improvement. As we cut our way through and made it to the next room, I noticed that the tower had taken sustainable damage after the last time we were here. So I wasn’t surprised to see that the door leading into the centre of the tower was blocked off by debris. The was a huge hole in the ground though, tunnelled by darkspawn.

“Well, it didn’t go that way,” I said motioning toward the pile of rubble and peered down into the hole.   
“They came through here last time we came to visit,” I continued while looking down into the darkness below and seeing mostly more rubble and dust at the bottom.   
“So who wants to go first?” I asked and looked around at my companions. They gave me puzzled looks, trying to decide if I was serious. I was.

“I’ll go, Wynne can you light the way for me?” I said with a chuckle and walked to the edge to look for a good place to start climbing.   
“Hold on,” Alistair grabbed my arm as I strode past, “we don’t know what’s down there.” I shrugged.   
“I’m guessing more darkspawn. And maybe walking corpses if we’re on the right track,” I tapped the corner of my mouth with my index finger, “perhaps some big-as-a-cow spiders, too.” Alistair looked at me inquisitively.   
“And you want to go down there first?” he asked, I shrugged again.   
“Why not, I’m the better climber, I can find an easier way down for you guys.” Alistair blinked a few times.

“One of you is old, and two of you are clad in heavy armor. It’s dark and quite possibly slippery, you’ll break your necks. Let me find the path for you, get you down safe. I’m more suited for this,” I said in a reassuring tone.   
“And… do all highborn Ladies enjoy climbing rubble to get down into a deep pit? I’m having a hard time picturing that,” Wynne said with a sharp look and her arms crossed. I gave her an impish grin, should have seen that coming after calling her old.   
“I am hardly a good example of a highborn Lady, in part _because_ I enjoy climbing rumble into a deep pit. It adds a whole new dimension to ‘ladies first’ in my opinion,” I admitted to her and her look softened a bit.

Wynne cast a light to guide me down and I started making my way down into the pit. It wasn’t that far down to the bottom now that I could see it properly, and the rubble made for nice platforms I could use to descend. Alistair followed with Asher on his heels. The dog had little trouble coming down, I guess it was easier on four legs than on two. But Alistair’s armor, while well suited for fighting, was not suited for climbing. It restricted certain movements like pulling your knees up high. And the weight of it wasn’t helping either. The same was true for Sten, and Wynne… well, Wynne wasn’t as nimble as she once was anymore. So we slowly made our way down.

“Easy does it,” I encouraged as Alistair carefully stepped onto a piece of rubble that shifted under his weight. He held his balance. I saw Sten lifting Wynne down from what might once have been a support beam, she smirked at me when I caught her eye. Crafty old lady, she was enjoying it. I was fairly certain she could have made it down herself.

Eventually we made it to the bottom without anyone falling and breaking their neck. I peered around in the dark. Clouds of dust obscured my vision but it seemed I was looking at the Tower’s vestments. The darkspawn had tunnelled to the catacombs and then gone through the ceiling to get to the Tower’s ground floor.

“Sure smells like we’re on the right track,” Alistair remarked as he stepped up next to me. He froze when we heard the sound of skittering feet over stone. A very large number of feet, which implied the aforementioned big-as-a-cow spiders. I still hadn’t gotten over my unease whenever I faced one of the creatures. It’s a giant spider, so you’re supposed to feel uneasy but something about them made my skin crawl in ways that anything with the appropriate number of limbs never could.

Asher charged forward and locked his jaw around a hairy leg and shook his head. The leg snapped between his jaws and he moved on to the next. I hadn’t even taught Asher to do that, he just seemed to agree with me on the limb issue. Either that or he figured it was pretty effective to break all the legs on one side. At least it was pretty funny to watch them drag themselves along the floor with all four remaining limbs on one side. I know, I'm cruel. But these things were out to kill me for no good reason, so I was going to have to kill them back anyway. And hampering your opponents movement is a pretty basic strategy, it just so happened that biting or cutting off four legs on one wide was wildly effective.

Alistair had already impaled one on his sword when I did the same to the spider Asher was attacking. Wynne and Sten made it to the ground and joined the fight. I caught a glimpse of the emissary we had seen between killing the second and the third spider. And sure enough, corpses started to rise from the ground.

Sten crashed into the first while charging one of the remaining spiders. He just kept going, unphased by the impact with the corpse. The spider didn’t fare much better than the corpse had, and Sten continued to wave his massive sword around and shatter any corpses in his near vicinity.

We cleared out the area and moved down into the tunnels. They led down into the valley at the base of the hill that the Fortress was built on. Looking up, I could see the Tower of Ishal in the distance. It was eerily quiet, the silence only disturbed by the sound of snow being crushed under our feet, the shuffling or armor and weapons, and the wind blowing through the tops of the trees.

Alistair spotted footprints leading deeper into the valley, presumably left by the necromancing emissary. The corpses piled even higher down here, and when I looked up at the Tower of Ishal again, I realised we were standing in the valley where Cailan and Duncan had died. Good place for a necromancer, bad place for us to go after a necromancer.

“Keep your weapons ready,” I whispered as I crept forward and scanned our surroundings. I vaguely remembered watching from the Tower of Ishal, it had been too far away to make out any specific individuals then but I clearly remembered an ogre lumbering over the numerous smaller shapes. I could still hear the thunderous sound of clanging steel, the cries and roars of men fighting for their lives. They still seemed to echo off the stone cliffs around us.

“Fela,” Alistair whispered urgently and dragged me away from my memories. He had spotted movement up ahead. Before we could make a move, the corpses started to rise from the snow. I glanced to the side at Alistair, I was getting an anxious feeling from him. He probably worried that Duncan would be among the risen corpses, only it wouldn’t be Duncan anymore.

He started cutting them down without hesitation, crying out with each angry swipe, stab, and thrust. I called for Wynne to do something about the emissary, but she was too busy fending off the corpses coming our way. To top it off, the emissary decided to raise the ogre lying dead in the snow. Try beheading a frozen, undead ogre and see how you fare. The fact that the ogre will be too tall for you to properly reach its neck is the least of your problems.

I went for the ogre’s legs, like the very first I had ever encountered, I intended to bring it down by severing the tendons in the backs of its knees. Problem was, the ogre was frozen, and there was plenty of flesh still on its bones.

“Sten!” I called when I decided when I didn’t have the strength to hack through the frozen flesh without being crushed by the rampaging monster, “the knees! Hit its knees!” I was thrown back when the ogre swung a huge fist at me, I slammed into the cliff wall and fell down in the snow. Asher rushed to my side, and nuzzled the side of my face to help me snap out of the daze that was brought on by the impact.

I staggered back onto my feet, looking up at my companions while they attacked the ogre. I saw Sten busting one of the creature's kneecaps and Alistair furiously hacking at the back of the other. I felt the touch of Wynne’s healing magic and my vision cleared, I still had one of my swords. I must have dropped the other in the snow somewhere. I drew the dagger Asher had given me to replace it.

“Good boy, Asher,” I said and sprinted towards the ogre, now on its knees and howling at Sten and Alistair while still trying to swing its fists at them. It didn’t pay any attention to me, it was too focused on the men who had crippled it.

I leapt onto the ogre’s back, and slammed the dagger down into its frozen flesh to steady myself as it tried to shake me off. With my remaining sword, I hacked and slashed at the back of the ogre’s neck in an attempt to get to the top vertebrae that seemed to be the ticket to killing it. The ogre roared and tried desperately to shake me off as I held on for dear life. Meanwhile it flailed its arms around in an attempt to grab me, I swiped at its hand with my sword when it almost managed to grab me, eliciting a high pitched growl from the undead beast.

The ogre was down on all fours now, and I was still hacking at it furiously. Then the ogre decided that, if it couldn’t grab me or shake me off, it would crush me. I yanked my dagger free and jumped just in time to avoid being squished to a pulp under the creature.

In that moment, I found myself thinking of Shale.

I grinned and let out a maniacal laugh, leaping at the ogre again. Sten was knocked to the side by a massive arm and Alistair barely managed to sidestep a similar attack. I drove my remaining rapier into the ogre’s neck, putting all my weight behind the downwards thrust. The ogre didn’t stop moving and I was forced to evade another fist while leaving my rapier behind. Then I recognised the weapons, stuck in its chest. They were Duncan’s.

With only a dagger remaining, there wasn’t much I could do to an ogre. I waited for an opening, the right moment to pull my sword out of the ogre’s neck. Instead, I saw an opening to make a grab for Duncan’s sword. Stuck in a frozen ogre’s chest, I needed to wedge it free before I could pull it out. So I twisted the sword, pulling back at the hilt and yanking it free with a grunt. The longsword was a lot bulkier than the fine rapiers I was used to. Despite that, I raised it high over my head and brought it down on the ogre’s neck, again, and again, and again. Until it finally stopped moving.

I turned to see that Wynne and Sten had thoroughly murdered the emissary with fire and steel, and sat down in the snow, panting. Alistair let himself drop down next to me, looking equally winded.

“I hate necromancers,” I stated sullenly, disturbing the silence that had returned when the ogre had finally died. Again. Alistair just nodded. After catching my breath a bit, I got up to look at the ogre again and pry Duncan’s dagger out of its chest.   
“You should keep these,” I said and handed the dagger and the sword to Alistair. After that, I pulled my rapier free from the ogre’s destroyed neck and looked around for the other one. I was saved the trouble of having to dig through the snow by Asher, who had already located it. I rewarded him with some vigorous belly rubs and showered him with compliments. I started searching the bodies next, Duncan’s weapons were here, his body should be too. But there was no trace of him.

After a good two hours of meticulously searching the valley, we gave up. Duncan’s body wasn’t there. We had no explanation for it, he simply wasn’t there. His body had either been taken, or he had left on his own. And I didn’t believe the last one for a second, if he had survived, he would have sought us out. He would have known to go to Redcliffe, which places we would go to for the treaties. Duncan _wouldn’t_ have willingly abandoned us. I knew this to be true. While I had complicated feelings towards the man, and I had punched him in the face on the last night I saw him, I never, even for a second, believed Duncan would let us do this alone if he were still alive.

Without a body to collect, we left to pay Cailan his final respects. Sten didn’t agree with our decision to build him a pyre. To him it was a waste of time, he felt we were doing this for ourselves more than Cailan. He was probably right. After all, Cailan didn’t care, he was dead.

He helped us gather the wood though, and helped us take Cailan down from his… whatever it was they nailed him to. We went about the task as respectfully as we could, no easy job considering his current state. His body was frozen solid, and it took us a long time to remove every spike, arrow, and spear that pinned him to the unholy construction. He was heavier than I had expected, though I didn’t really know _what_ I expected.

The four of us carried him to the pyre we had built, laying him down gently. I looked at Alistair, his face was a mask of grief, but he didn’t shed a single tear.   
“I’m sorry, my King. My brother. You deserved better than this,” his words were barely audible. He nodded for Wynne to light the pyre. We watched silently as the flames leapt up, cradling Cailan’s body in their heat.   
“Return to the Maker. God bless your soul,” Alistair added before turning, and walking away.


	38. Flemeth the Shapeshifter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this really necessary at this point?

We didn’t linger. As soon as we made it to the horses, we left Ostagar behind. But not to go back to Redcliffe just yet.

“There’s something else we need to do before we go,” I said as I pulled up my horse in front of them.  
“We have lingered here too long, Kadan,” Sten replied with a frown, “we need to get back to matters at hand.”  
“This _is_ one of the matters at hand. It’s about Morrigan’s mother,” I explained.  
“I find it hard to imagine that witch even _has_ a mother,” Wynne said dryly.  
“Wait until you meet Flemeth, things will fall into place,” Alistair replied. Wynne arched an eyebrow.  
“Flemeth?” she repeated, I nodded.  
“You heard right. Flemeth. What? You didn’t think that whole ‘witch of the wilds’ thing was just due to Morrigan’s choice of clothes and sharp tongue did you?” Wynne frowned,  
“I had hoped she had been spinning stories.”  
“Morrigan doesn’t really have the subtlety to spin lies like that,” I replied.  
“What of this Flemeth?” Sten asked brusquely.  
“Short story, Flemeth needs to die,” I said bluntly. Sten seemed quite satisfied with that explanation and gave me a nod.

_God, I love Sten._

“We know Flemeth is a shape changer, but we do not know how many forms she possesses. One of them is a giant hawk at least, so we can assume she has other more powerful forms as well. She’s a mage, and a dangerous one. Morrigan has told me stories about her youth, Templars have gone after them plenty of times. None survived,” I looked at each of my companions to gauge their responses. Sten was stoic as ever, Wynne looked troubled, and Alistair looked blank.  
“What’s your plan?” Wynne asked.  
“I want to talk to her first, no need to rush in blind,” I replied, sounding more sure of myself than I felt. Flemeth was a mystery to me, but the fact that she was dangerous was abundantly clear.

“If she attacks, we fight. Until then, just follow my lead,” I said and led the way.

* * *

Flemeth was waiting outside like she had known we would come. For all I knew, she did. It wouldn’t be hard for her to change into some inconspicuous animal to spy on us, and we would never be the wiser.

“So you return,” Flemeth said with amusement, “at last Morrigan has found someone to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn’t you say?”  
“Enchanting? No,” I said as I approached, “but she did discover how you extend your unnaturally long life-span. And I can’t let that happen to my friend.” Flemeth laughed.  
“Friend? _Morrigan?_ Silly girl, you are being played for a fool.”  
“Probably,” I said with a shrug, “but I’m not inclined to take _your_ word for it. You didn’t take us off that Tower out of the goodness of your heart, you want something. I want to know what that is.”  
“And how do you intend to find out?” Flemeth said, her stare fixed on me like she was trying to guess my thoughts. Or even read them, for all I knew.  
“I was hoping you would tell me,” I replied, “if you don’t, I’ll have to find out when it happens. Won’t I?”

Flemeth looked at me searchingly, stepping a little closer to gaze into my eyes. She was looking at me at first, and then she was looking _into_ me. Her gaze so intense I could do nothing but stare back defiantly. As the moment dragged on, I noticed my companions start to reach for their weapons covertly. Flemeth noticed too, and broke the stare.

“Why don’t we skip to the end of this tale. Do you slay the old wretch as Morrigan bids, or does the tale take a different turn?” She looked at me expectantly.  
“I have no illusions that I could keep you from possessing Morrigan’s body, and I need Morrigan. So, my choice should be an easy one. Shouldn’t it?” I stared back at Flemeth, measuring her response. She gave a curt nod with a mocking grin.  
“Choice,” she said slowly, “there is power in choices, as there is in lies. I will give you one of each. Morrigan wishes my grimoire? Take it as a trophy. Tell her I am slain.”  
“And then what?” I replied without hiding my scepticism.   
“You get to keep her! For a time,” Flemeth said slyly. I shook my head.  
“I told you, I cannot let you have her body.”  
“A shame,” she said with feigned disappointment, “what will it be then?”  
“Now you die,” I said apologetically. Flemeth nodded.  
“Come then,” she said as she stepped away from the shack, “she will earn what she takes. I would have it no any other way.”

It’s difficult to describe what happened next, there was a bright light, originating from Flemeth. I had to shield my eyes from it to avoid being blinded before the battle even started. When I looked back, Flemeth was gone, in her place stood a high dragon.

“Oh… _fuuuuck…”_ I said slowly as I stared at the dragon in front of me. Sten roared a mighty battle cry and charged forward, he had once told me that it would be an honour to fight a high dragon. I guess to him, this must have been pretty awesome. To me, not so much.

I snapped out of my stupor in time to get behind a boulder before Flemeth roasted me with flames. My mind was racing, how were we going to take her on? I peered over the boulder to see Sten attacking one of Flemeth’s sides while Wynne blasted her with magic. Alistair was on Flemeth’s other side, outside my field of vision. To get out of this position, Flemeth flapped her wings to lift herself up into the air and reposition elsewhere. So I decided the wings needed to go first, to impair her movement.

I circled around, Flemeth was busy with Alistair and Sten so she wasn’t paying any attention to me. When I got close enough, I leapt at one of her wings, slicing the membrane between the bones. She roared and screeched, flapping the wing in an attempt to knock me aside. I ducked, got in close to her belly, and shredded wing where it lay close to her body. I quickly moved back to avoid being crushed between the wing and Flemeth’s body when she folded it against herself. But not before sticking one of my blades under the scales and into the joint until I felt the unmistakable resistance of bone, and sliced.

Flemeth shrieked. The wing was useless now. Time to move on to the next.

Climbing _over_ a dragon, even one with a useless wing, is just stupid, so I had to go around, that meant getting close to either her gigantic teeth, or her dangerously swiping tail. I picked the tail, leaping over it as she slammed it into Sten. He rolled to a stop a few feet away and immediately got back up. I moved out of the way just in time to avoid the back swipe, avoided a kick from one of her hindlegs and moved on to the wing. She raised it, trying to keep it out of my reach.

_Fine_ , I thought and went straight for the joint this time, not bothering to shred the membrane. I found a small gap between the scales, jammed my rapier into it, and twisted. I kept stabbing and twisting at the joint until the wing lowered down, useless without proper control and coordination. Next on my list were the hind legs, they still allowed Flemeth to jump and move around on the ground. They were also further away from her teeth.

I am not exactly familiar with dragon physiology, but I know where to find joints and tendons when I see a limb move. While Sten and Alistair sliced away at what was mostly flesh and muscle beneath scales, I went for the places that gave her mobility. The first hindleg I took by stabbing and slicing at the back of the knee. The other by slicing at the inguinal region, hoping there would be a major artery there for me to puncture. While the bleeding was impressive, I couldn’t be sure. And since the dragon didn’t exactly slow down, I moved on to find more weak spots in the scaly exterior of the beast.

Flemeth was practically incapacitated now, but that didn’t mean she was giving up. She roared, spat fire, snapped at Alistair and Sten and flailed her tail, determined to kill at least one of us.

The fight dragged on, and while the dragon was wounded, it just wouldn’t die. Wynne hit the dragon again with a spirit blast and while the beast was temporarily dazed, I decided to go after a more lethal place than wings and legs. Leaping onto a front leg and climbing onto its neck. I heard Alistair shout, but I was too focused on killing a dragon to hear what he said. A voice in the back of my head told me he was probably asking me if I was insane. That same voice decided that, yes, as a matter of fact, I was insane. At that moment at least, the rest is debatable.

I was clinging on to Flemeth desperately as she shook her head to get rid of me. Much like Oghren had done when Shale put him back on his furniture-mountain. I cut my arm on one of her spikes as I clung to her, but I refused to let go. When I saw my chance, I slammed a rapier into the area where the neck met the head. Flemeth screamed and roared as I twisted and sliced away. Until finally, she went limp. Her massive head dropped to the ground, and I let myself slide off.

“ _Holy_ _fucking_ _shit_ ,” I panted when I reached the ground, and bent over to catch my breath. Wynne was too stunned to remind me of my language and stared at the dead dragon before her, one rapier still jutting out of its neck.

I looked back at Flemeth, still in the form of a high dragon, shouldn’t she be changing back? I stepped a little closer to examine the beast, after pulling my rapier from her neck, how often do you get a close look at a high dragon? I was curious, and while I was glad she was dead and we were fine, I felt kind of bad for killing her. Flemeth was unique, a treasure trove of mystery and forbidden knowledge. She inspired stories that people told throughout the ages. And we had killed her.

“Fela, what are you doing?” Alistair approached wearily.  
“She’s beautiful,” I said softly, putting a hand on Flemeth’s snout.  
“Get away from her,” Alistair said cautiously eyeing Flemeth. I looked at him and nodded. Looking back at Flemeth one last time.

It was then that I saw she was staring at me with one, slitted, golden eye.

Alistair shouted something, and I was thrown to the ground. When I looked up, I froze. I saw Alistair between Flemeth’s jaws, being shaken around like a ragdoll before she let go. He didn’t make a sound when he fell to the ground, didn’t move when he rolled to a stop.

I screamed. Sten flew at the dragon with his sword held high while Wynne ran to Alistair. When Flemeth roared at me, scant inches away from her razor sharp teeth, I swiped at her with my rapiers again. At her eyes, at her nose, mouth, whatever I could hit. Stabbing, slicing, killing. I didn’t stop until I tasted the, strangely sweet, metallic tang of her blood on my lips. I don’t know how I did it, but somehow I ended up back on top of the dragon, jamming both rapiers down into its skull with all my might. I left them. Jumping off and running to Alistair.

* * *

I fell to my knees beside him, looking for some way to help. His armor was a mess, the teeth had gone through in many places. He was losing a frightening amount of blood and was starting to look pale. I looked at Wynne, who was deeply concentrated on her healing spells.

Not knowing what else to do, I started to remove his breastplate with shaking hands, ripped up what remained of the shirt he was wearing under it, and put pressure on the wounds, begging him not to die. I had brought him here, I had been the reason he agreed to kill Flemeth. I had been the reason he had been standing close enough to be taken by Flemeth. This was _my_ fault.

Somewhere along my pleas to Alistair, Sten had sat down next to me and put a hand on my shoulder.  
“He is strong, Kadan,” he spoke softly, “he is a Theirin, they have a dragon’s blood. Do they not?” I didn’t look up, unable to tear my eyes away from Alistair. He looked so pale, _too_ pale.

“Fela,” Sten said, catching my attention. Sten never called me by my name, I looked up at him.  
“If he is half the man you seem to think he is, he will pull through. I have seen men survive worse than this.” It was extraordinarily rare to hear Sten speak comforting words, in fact, I don’t think I had ever heard him do that before. I didn’t know how to respond, so I just nodded and looked back at Alistair.

I felt his pulse in his neck, though faint, it was steady. Then I looked at the row of puncture wounds across his chest, though his armor had taken most of the damage, they were deep. Without it, Flemeth could have torn him in half. There was another row of wounds on his stomach where Wynne was currently sowing him back together. She hadn’t spoken yet, and I didn’t want to disturb her while she worked.

We ended up staying the night in Flemeth’s shack. Alistair was in no condition to travel, and he was still unconscious. Sten helped us carry Alistair inside and then took Asher to collect the horses.

“Wynne…” I said softly.  
“Yes dear?” came her reply.  
“Please tell me he is going to be ok?” She gave me a sympathetic look.  
“I’ve done what I can for now, I’ll have to regain my mana to do more. But he is stable for the time being, I think he’ll pull through.” I started crying again and Wynne held me in a comforting hug, whispering reassuringly. After I gained my composure a little, I thanked her from the bottom of my heart. She saved him, she was the reason he was now breathing steadily, tucked into one of the beds.

When I had seen him fall, I was half convinced I would have to build him a pyre too. And while I had always known that it was highly probable that I would have to do that eventually, I had not truly believed it could happen yet. Alistair had seemed practically indestructible up until that point and the thought that we would inevitably have to go up against another dragon, probably ten times worse than this one, frightened me. Rationally, I knew no one was indestructible. Not me, not my family, not Asher, not even Alistair. But I had secretly believed it nonetheless.

After Sten and Asher came back, we silently ate a modest meal after Wynne checked our injuries. I had a cut on my arm, bruises, some minor burns, but nothing serious. Sten had some impressive bruises and a couple of burns, but he was fine otherwise. Nothing a nice poultice couldn’t fix.

After that, I crawled into the same bed as Alistair. I wanted to be near him, keep him warm, and watch over him while he slept. So I lay down next to him, my head resting lightly against his shoulder, and pulled a blanket over us.

I didn’t get much sleep. Mostly because I was anxiously listening no Alistair’s breathing and checking his pulse, ready to wake Wynne at any sign of a complication. But also because when I _did_ sleep, I slept lightly and easily awoke at any sound. Something creaking, Sten snoring, the wind in the trees, anything. I was on high alert, so I nearly jumped out of the bed when I felt Alistair move.

“Ow,” he started, “ow, ow, ow, Maker…” My heart did some elaborate gymnastics in my chest and tears started rolling down my cheeks.  
“Shh, be still,” I whispered. And sat up to look at him in the dim light cast by the dying fire. He gave me a tired smile when my eyes settled on his.  
“How do you feel?” I asked softly.  
“Like I got chewed up and spit out by a dragon,” he replied, “please tell me you killed it.” He looked up with laughter in his eyes. I resisted the urge to swat at him.  
“You _ass,”_ I said with a sob, “I thought I killed you.” Alistair arched an eyebrow.  
“No, no, the dragon did that, well… tried that. Hey, now, don’t cry,” he said while raising a hand to wipe my cheek with his thumb. I lowered my eyes as I sobbed again and shook.

“Hey, look at me,” he said and put his hand beneath my chin to make me look up, “I went to that fight willingly, you don’t get to feel responsible. You’re not. It’s the same thing you told me in Honnleath, remember?”  
“You pushed me out of the way,” I said while wiping my face, “she went for me but she got you. If I hadn’t been standing so close…” My wiping efforts were immediately undone by more tears.  
“No,” Alistair said firmly, “it wasn’t your fault. We all thought she was dead, I was just being paranoid. And I’m glad I was, because if she had gotten you, she would have killed you.”  
“She nearly killed _you_ ,” I said obstinately.  
“Like you wouldn’t have done the same thing,” he answered and took my hand, “and judging from the amount of blood on you, you have made her pay for it.” I shot him an innocent look.  
“I may have destroyed her face for it. And then stabbed her in the brain.”  
“That’s my girl,” he replied affectionately and pulled me down to kiss me.

“Now, about you wearing metal plating for armor,” Alistair began teasingly after the kiss broke.  
“Oh, honey, not this again,” I groaned, Alistair chucked.  
“I like that.”  
“What?”  
“You called me ‘honey’,” he replied with a grin. I planted another kiss on his forehead and got up to get Alistair some water.

“Are Wynne and Sten ok?” Alistair asked in a low voice, careful not to wake them.  
“Yeah, yeah they’re fine, Sten has some epic bruises and some burns but that’s all,” I whispered back.

“Bruises cannot be epic,” Sten stated monotonously. I startled at the sudden rumble of Sten’s voice, jumping slightly and spilling some of the water I had gotten for Alistair.  
“Sorry, did we wake you?” I asked.  
“I wasn’t sleeping,” Sten replied.  
“Ah…” I said self-consciously, “you heard us talk then. You’re supposed to do something to let people know you are awake, you know…”  
“Well, now that we are all awake, I might as well check your wounds, Alistair,” Wynne said with a yawn and moved to get up.

“Good to have you back, son,” she said when she reached the bed and briefly squeezed his hand. Then she removed the covers and started to remove the bandages.  
“Wow! Hey!-, ok, I’m just glad I’m wearing my smalls,” Alistair protested when Wynne pulled the blanket away.  
“Hush,” Wynne said sternly, “there is nothing there I haven’t seen before.”  
“You don’t know that!” Alistair replied indignantly.  
“Trust me, son, I do. Now let me treat your wounds,” Wynne said patiently and peeled the gauze covering the puncture wounds away.

Alistair winched a little as Wynne pulled the gauze from his abdomen, where the blood had made it stick to the wounds. He peered down.

“Well, that’s gonna leave a mark…” he said with a frown and lay back down.  
“Another scar to brag about with Teagan,” I pointed out, earning a slight smile that turned to a pout.  
“What about all the ladies?” he said playfully. I crossed my arms.  
“Do you _really_ want me to respond to that, Alistair? In front of Wynne and Sten?” I gave him a pointed look. I should also point out that if he was going to show his scars off to the ladies, I was definitely coming along to show some of my own. I liked the idea of chasing a girl together. But they didn't know that. Alistair chuckled nervously.  
“Maybe we can pretend I didn’t say that?”  
“We can,” I said reassuringly and let the matter drop.

“Wait, what about Asher?” Alistair asked while pointing at my huge Mabari looking around contently while panting with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.  
“Oh, Asher knows everything,” I replied casually. Alistair looked at the dog and frowned.  
“Wait, everything? The… The _dog,_ knows everything?” Asher let out an accusing gruff, I put my hands on my hips.  
“Of course he does,” I said and turned to Asher, “that nose of yours doesn’t miss anything, huh, big boy?” Asher replied with a happy bark.  
“See?” I asked Alistair, “we’ll give you the details later,” I said with a wink and a smirk. Wynne gave a chuckle.  
“I’m sure he smells pussy from a mile off.” I gaped.

“ _Wynne!_ ” I said aghast, then I had a fit of laughter. Alistair cringed.  
“You weren’t talking about cats, were you... Can’t you just be a nice old lady for once?”  
“And knit little kitten sweaters? Rather than sowing you lot back together every other day? Never,” Wynne replied. Alistair sighed.  
“Are all elderly women as crafty and conniving as you?”  
“No dear, just me,” she replied with a warm smile.

* * *

We decided to stay in the shack for another day, Alistair needed the rest and it gave Wynne the opportunity to work some more healing magic. By the end of the day, he was out of bed and walking around. Although, it was a bit of an old-man’s-walk. Hunched over, shuffling feet, easily out of breath. Blood loss and pain does that.

I retrieved my rapiers from Flemeth’s corpse, after it hadn’t moved for an entire night, I felt brave enough to go near it. It was still a high dragon, and pretty intimidating. So I asked Sten to come with me, just in case. And he didn’t mind the opportunity to play with Asher for a bit, making snowballs in his hands and throwing them high up in the air for Asher to catch. He yapped at them with a maniacal dog-grin, enjoying the way the snow fell apart between his jaws. He shook his head vigorously every time and then looked at Sten expectantly for another snowball.

Like before, no darkspawn ventured near the shack. It probably had something to do with Flemeth’s presence, even if she currently lay dead in the snow. I couldn’t shake a feeling of unease while we were there, it seemed odd to me that there was a dragon’s corpse outside, and not that of an old woman. I would ask Morrigan about it when I saw her, Wynne couldn’t offer me any explanation that satisfied me. While she agreed that is was odd that Flemeth hadn’t changed back, she didn’t know if it was unusual either. All she had to offer was that magic sometimes works in different ways than we expect.

The day after that, we got back onto the horses and started our journey back to Redcliffe. We didn’t move as quickly as we would have liked, but the snow was two feet thick in some places and Alistair was far from well enough for hard riding just yet. We spend nearly as much time _on_ our horses as we spend walking beside them. The only upside was, that darkspawn had difficulty moving through the snow too. So there were few encounters, and when they _did_ happen, it was fairly easily dealt with.

It took us six days to make it back to Redcliffe. Two days longer than it had taken us to get to Ostagar in the first place. Alistair refrained from wearing armor during that time, and was forbidden to participate in any battle. But that had not stopped him for riding down a genlock that was trying to sneak up on me. Or from taking the reins of Wynne’s horse when she was casting a spell.

The others were so relieved to see us, that they thoroughly scolded us for staying away longer than they had expected, leaving them to worry. Even Teagan and Eamon chimed in.

“It could have been dead for all I knew, what would I do if it died, hmm?” Shale said with her arms crossed and creased her stone forehead into a frown. Leliana was livid, ordering us to never split off from them again. And Zevran frowned so deeply that, for once, he didn't have that cheeky look.

“Do you have any idea how worried we were? Couldn’t you at least have send the dog ahead with a message?”  
“You dumb-asses!” Oghren spat, “nearly getting yourselves killed on one stupid dragon while there is an Archdemon waiting for ye!”  
“We could have lost you! Our King! Then all of this would have been for naught!” Eamon snapped and Teagan swore he’d never let Alistair and me out of his sight again. Even Morrigan managed a sigh of relief when she saw us coming into the great hall and frowned when we told our tale.

Probably not because she thought we had been reckless, but because she had wanted us to return safely and that almost didn’t happen. She even went so far to say that she was glad that Alistair was ok. To me, of course. She would sooner cut her own tongue out than say those words to him.

Isolde pampered us, seeing to our every comfort and sparing no effort to make sure we had everything we needed. She offered to have Cailan’s armor mended and cleaned, send clothiers to take Alistair’s measurements, and outfitted him with three fine suits, fit for a King. She had been remarkably more pleasant after Alistair was revealed to be Maric’s son. But that didn’t mean they got along, and I guessed she hadn’t forgiven him for shaming her by being the subject of rumours.

At least, that’s how it was in _her_ head. In our heads, Isolde was still misplacing her anger like she always had. But now that we were on at least a polite basis, I found her much more tolerable. I don’t mean to sound like some arrogant, entitled piece of shit, but she was at last treating us with the respect we were due from her. Which mostly speaks to how she treated us before.

I closed the door with a sigh when Isolde and Eamon finally left us to our rooms. No more guestrooms for us, we were granted quarters fit for our noble standing. Meaning we had a separate sitting room, a wash room, a bedroom, and a room that seemed to serve no particular purpose. We didn’t bother coming up with an explanation. I locked the door and Alistair was on me before I had even turned around.

“Finally, I get to have you all to myself,” he whispered in my ear and nuzzled my neck. It send a shiver down my spine, and he pressed me against the door with his body. I readily gave in to him.  
“It has been a while, hasn't it.” I felt his erection press against my backside as his hands ran around my waist and up to my breasts.  
“I haven’t had you alone since we left for Ostagar,” he answered.  
“Still having trouble sharing my attention with others?” I teased. He slapped my ass and spun me around to face him.  
“What I’m about to do to you, you don’t share with others.”

He lifted me up and kissed me so passionately it took my breath away. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, eager to melt into him. He carried me back to the bedroom where he laid me down on the bed. I kicked my boots off as soon as I was able while Alistair unfastened my trousers. I reached to unfasten his too but was forced to let go when he pulled my pants down and dropped them to the floor. He roughly pulled off my panties next and took hold of my ankle as he sat on his knees in front of me. His lips brushed against my ankle before he drew a line of gentle kisses along the inside of my calf. I yelped and giggled when he reached the inside of my knee, twisting away slightly.

“Oh? Ticklish?” Alistair asked mischievously and ran his fingers along the sensitive skin again. I let out a high pitched laugh.  
“Stop that,” I yelped. Alistair elicited another involuntary laugh from me when he trickled his fingers along the back of my knee again. I hooked my other leg around him and pulled him down to get him away from that particular weak spot. He let himself be pulled in while I wrapped my arms around him, and turned it into a passionate kiss, running his fingers through my hair. I let my hands slip under the hem of his shirt and ran them up his back with a featherlight touch, his wounds were nearly closed now. I felt the scars begin to form under my fingertips.

Alistair moved on to kiss my neck and started unbuttoning my shirt with one hand. I eagerly came to his aid and deftly unbuttoned it myself to give him access to my chest. He moved my breastband out of the way and flicked his tongue against one of my nipples, making me gasp in surprise at the sensation. There was insistent knocking at the door, but we oblivious to it.

I pulled his shirt off when he continued a trail down my stomach, back to where he was originally going. I let out a moan when he kissed my pearl, running my fingers through his hair and grasping at the sheets. Alistair knew _all_ the spots, gently squeezing the top of my leg where it met my torso with one hand, and cupping my ass with the other. I crossed my legs across his shoulders as he continued stroking my pearl with his tongue. Eliciting more moans and mewls from my lips. I shivered with every brush of his tongue, cried out his name when he slipped two fingers inside, and arched my back in pleasure. I was completely at my lover’s mercy, responding to every touch and drowning in pleasure. Just like he wanted me to.

“Nooo… don’t stop…” I whined when he moved to kiss my stomach. Then gasped as he ran his tongue from my belly button, along my breastbone, and finally up to my throat. I tasted my sweet musky honey on his lips when he kissed me again, claiming my lips with his. I parted them when I felt his brush tongue my lower lip, wrapping myself around him as he unfastened his trousers and moved his smalls. I felt him spring free against my thigh before he slipped inside, making us both gasp and moan.

“Oh, God, you feel so good,” Alistair whispered against my lips. It made my stomach flutter. He rolled his hips, picking up a steady rhythm. I moved with him, gently brushing my fingertips across his back and down to his perfectly sculpted butt. I felt the muscles move beneath his skin, and dug my fingernails in his flesh. He swatted at my hand and pinned my wrist above my head.  
“Naughty,” he growled with amusement in his eyes. I looked up at him with an innocent smile and licked my lips, earning a deep chuckle before he kissed me again. I moaned in his mouth as he pressed himself deeper inside, pressing me onto the bed.

Then he pulled out, holding himself up on his arms and looking down on me with a burning lust.

“Do you want it?” he demanded, teasing me with his tip.  
“Yes-” I gasped when his tip brushed my pearl, “yes, please.”  
“Say it,” he ordered.  
 _“Goddamnit Alistair!_ I want your cock inside me, _please,”_ I whispered beggingly, grabbing at his hip with my free hand and gripping him tighter with my legs as he slipped back inside me. I let out a low guttural moan.  
“Good girl,” Alistair whispered and picked up the pace again after pinning my other wrist above my head too. We moved together, tangled up in each other. Perfectly lost in the pleasure we were sharing. My inner walls clenched around him as he kept mercilessly thrusting into me, forming the epicentre of the tension rising in my body.

“Yes,” I whispered, feeling my pleasure build with every stroke, “yes, yes, yes,” each one louder than the last. My entire body tensed, shivering with the build-up and making me cry out at my release. Clinging on to Alistair, who had no intention of slowing down. He moved faster, tightening his grip on me, breathing hard into my neck. I let out desperate gasps and moans as he kept going. I was going to have another orgasm, more powerful and lasting longer. My legs spasmed involuntarily and the muscles in my abdomen were clenched so tightly it forced me to lift my chest off the bed. I ceased up, shook, and cried out in ecstasy while my eyes rolled back. Alistair bit down on my neck and groaned, I felt him throb and pulsate as he surrendered his seed, extending my pleasure even more before we slowed to a stop.

“Maker’s breath… I love you…” I managed to sigh as he collapsed on top of me. He smiled into my neck as he caught his breath.  
“I love you too,” he moaned contently. He moved to roll off, but I held him in place, not ready to let him go just yet. His skin was flushed and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He smelled heavenly.  
“You think they heard that?” I whispered.  
“I think everyone heard that,” Alistair said with a chuckle and got up to lean on one elbow. I snickered at his dry tone of voice.  
“You look so unbelievably pleased with yourself right now.”  
“Well, aren’t _you_?” he asked innocently, “it sure sounded like it.” I laughed.  
“Fine, I am very pleased with you,” I replied, reaching up to kiss him again.  
“That wasn’t so hard? Now was it?” Alistair said teasingly at my admission. I held back my laughter and gave him a serious look.  
“Oh, no. It was _very_ hard.” Alistair frowned at first and then broke into a grin when he realised my pun.  
“Well, that’s what you get with hot, steamy, I’m-so-glad-I’m-still-alive I-want-to-put-my-baby-in-you sex,” he replied. I broke into hysterical laughter at that comment,  
“Maker’s _balls,_ Alistair!” I hiccupped, “could you be any _less_ subtle?”  
“Says the woman who just let the entire castle know about her orgasm _s,_ ” Alistair retorted emphasising the plural. He gave me a quick kiss, rolled off me and stretched. I rolled onto my side to look at him.  
“I believe _you,_ were responsible for that.”

He turned his head to face me and winked before sitting up, slapping my ass, and standing up to get something to drink, meanwhile tucking everything back into place in his pants. I had always thought there was something distinctly erotic about the way he casually laced his pants after sex. It made me want to unfasten them again. I was watching him through half closed eyes, the way the light caught on his hair, his graceful way of moving as he casually ran a hand through it.

With a sigh I admitted to myself that every story I had ever heard about the fabled good looks of the men of the Theirin line were true. Alistair was… gorgeous, incredibly attractive, and had an easy charm. While he was witty, he never showed off his intelligence at the expense of others. He was kind, sometimes to a fault while he was mistrusting at the same time. Alistair was the kind of man who would gladly do you any kind of favour, but he avoided ever being in someone else’s debt. He preferred others indebted to him, but he would never lord it over them, it was simply his way of protecting himself. Add to that a heart of gold and his dry sense of humour, he was perfect to me.

I slowly started drifting off to sleep, entertaining thoughts of adoration towards Alistair.


	39. Magnus Mac Eanraig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela's uncle comes to Redcliffe, she catches up with him before they get on the road to the Brecillian Forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I started wondering what about Fela's family on the Stormcoast? I mean, her uncle is Bann of the Stormcoast, why wouldn't they approach him as a potential ally? He has troops, he's way up north where the Blight hasn't reached yet, and he's family. Now I've already been going my own way with the empath thing, and that's actually going places, so why not do that some more and introduce you to Magnus? I thought it might be a nice way to get some more backstory on Fela, and then this happened.

Knocking at the door startled me out of my sleep.

I was still only wearing an unbuttoned shirt with my breastband pulled down around my waist. I lightly bounced off the bed and pulled it up when I heard Alistair call out to ask who it was, making his way towards the door. It was Teagan who answered. I darted across the room to get to my panties and quickly put them on. Quickly buttoning my shirt, I peered around the doorframe to see Alistair, still bare-chested, open the door.

“Good _lord_ , Alistair,” Teagan gasped when he laid eyes on the scars marking the lines of teeth across his torso, “when you said the dragon bit you…” Teagan shook his head. I could _hear_ Alistair smirking as he replied.  
“Well, if it had been a limb, I probably wouldn’t have it anymore.”  
“Put a shirt on, will you, there is someone here to see Fela. Is she in?” I quickly buttoned the remaining button on my shirt at the mention of my name.  
“Who’s-” Alistair began but he was cut off by a loud, rasping, familiar voice that spoke in an unmistakeable accent.  
“Ey, who’s this then? Fae! Uncle Magnus is here! Where’re ya at lass?”

I completely forgot about my pants and rounded the corner to leap into my uncle’s arms with a cry of delight.

“When did you- Why-” I stammered as the eight foot tall, three foot wide monster of a man lifted me off the ground in a great big hug and laughed delightedly.  
“Ah, look at you!” uncle Magnus interrupted, “you were a little wraith of a girl when I last saw ya.”  
“Uncle Magnus, I’m so glad you’re here!” I chirped, feeling like a little girl again at the sight of the bearlike man with a wild mane of thick black curls like mine. His eyes were a striking shade of blue beneath a pair of bushy eyebrows. He possessed a mighty black beard which he kept neatly trimmed.

“Aye, can’t let my favourite niece overthrow a false King and end a Blight all by herself, now can I? Came here as soon as I got the Arl’s message,” he said with both of his massive hands on my shoulders. Compared to my uncle, I _was_ a little girl.  
“The Arl send for you, did he… did he tell you… what happened a Highever...” tears welled up in my eyes as I realised I had no idea how to tell him what had happened at Highever. Uncle Magnus pulled me in for another hug.  
“Aye, lassie, I know,” he said gently and rubbed my back as I let out a quiet sob, “now you listen to me, Fae, we’re gonna get every last one of ‘em bastards, don’t you worry. Rendon Howe is a dead man.” I gave him a calm nod and swallowed my tears when he released me from his embrace.  
“One condition,” I said coldly, “Rendon Howe is mine.”  
“That’s the spirit, lass. I’ll hold him down while you cut his lying, traitor, throat,” uncle Magnus said with a fierceness that somehow ran in my family.  
“Are you kidding me? I’ll string a fiddle with his guts and dance while I make him play it! I’ll burn his house down around him and dance among the ashes staining his sticky, charred, _bones_!” I spat. All three men widened their eyes a bit, Teagan even took a step back. Then Magnus laughed.  
“Just like your mum, you remind me of her. Ellie… You’ve got her fire.”

Teagan relaxed a bit and Alistair gave him a look that seemed to mean, _I told you so._ Teagan muttered something about bloodthirsty dual-wielding devils under his breath. Alistair chuckled at Teagan’s reaction, drawing Magnus’s attention. He turned to look at Alistair. While Alistair was tall and broad shouldered himself, Magnus towered over him.

“Wanna explain to me what you’re doing in a room with my niece without your shirt on and her pants missing?” he asked menacingly. Alistair looked back at him blankly.  
“Exactly what it looks like,” he said it casually, but respectfully. Refusing to be intimidated, Alistair had admitted the obvious truth. There was a brief moment of tension while they stared at each other before Magnus laughed and slapped Alistair on his shoulder.

“You got some balls on ya, lad,” then his tone grew more serious, “for now. You hurt my little Fae and I’ll-”  
“For fuck’s sake, uncle, I can handle any castrations and ritual dismemberments myself. And before you start making any comments on his balls, you could at least do him the curtesy of buying him dinner first,” I said dryly, interrupting my uncle’s display of dominance. He looked at me and chuckled.  
“It is customary for the men of the family to intimidate and threaten any suiters to their sisters, daughters, granddaughters, cousins, and nieces.”  
“I’ve got it covered, uncle,” I replied.  
“I’m sure you do,” he snickered, “I ‘been hearing some rumours about you on my way here.” I grinned.  
“Which ones, I wonder?”  
“How ‘bout you find your pants, introduce me to your man, and we catch up over a barrel of ale?” he offered.  
“Will do,” I replied and darted back to the bedroom. I heard Teagan excuse himself to get said barrel of ale, leaving Alistair and uncle Magnus alone in the sitting room.

“So what got its teeth into you?” Magnus asked pointing at the rows of toothmarks on Alistair’s chest and abdomen.  
“Would you believe it if I said it was the legendary Flemeth in the shape of a high dragon?” Alistair replied.  
“No,” Magnus said flatly.  
“Would you believe Fela _killed_ the legendary Flemeth in the shape of a high dragon?” Alistair opted. Magnus studied Alistair through narrowed eyes, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Finally he shrugged and smiled.  
“Sounds like something she might do. If she got angry enough.”  
“Yeah, she has a killer temper,” Alistair agreed.  
“Me? I’m harmless,” I said innocently as I re-entered the sitting room and tossed Alistair a shirt.  
“Uncle Magnus, this is Alistair, Grey Warden, almost-Templar on the loose, and son of King Maric. Alistair, this is my uncle, Magnus Mac Eanraig, Bann of the Storm Coast, admiral of the finest fleet in Ferelden, big, hairy, and scary.”  
“Pleased to meet you,” Alistair said as he shook Magnus’ hand, the dark-haired man grunted in affirmation.  
“Almost-Templar on the loose, eh? How’d that happen?” Magnus eyed Alistair suspiciously, probably looking for signs of lyrium addiction.  
“Long story, would you like to hear the short version?” Alistair said politely. Magnus gave a nod.  
“I got send off to the Chantry at ten years old, hated it, took solace in the training, got out before taking my final vows. Meaning I got conscripted into the Grey Wardens. I was… ill suited, for a live devoted to the Chantry,” Alistair summarised, Magnus gave a throaty chuckle.  
“Wouldn’t be with Fae, if you were. Chantry wouldn’t know what to do with her.” Alistair grinned and shared a look with me.  
“I’m sensing a treasure-trove of stories behind that statement.” I shrugged innocently and sat down in a large armless chair with my legs folded under me.

“Why don’t you two start by explaining how you got to be the only remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden to stop a Blight?” Magnus suggested as Teagan made it back with a servant rolling an actual barrel of ale into the room.

It took us the rest of the afternoon and early evening to give Magnus the full story, he had a lot of questions for us to answer. Many of which, we didn’t even have the answers to. Uncle Magnus swore a lot, laughed at right parts, and was attentively quiet during others. He put the pieces surrounding Howe’s treachery together quickly, pointing out that Loghain had been taking out the people who might oppose him. The Couslands were as powerful as the Mac Tirs and only answered to the King. So he took out the possible opposition, the same was true for poisoning Arl Eamon, who was now working very hard _against_ Loghain.

He concluded from that, that Loghain probably had his treachery planned out long before Howe sacked Highever. Especially since these attacks happened at the same time. And now that we had retrieved correspondences between King Cailan, Empress Celene, and Arl Eamon, we could prove his motive. I had not yet found the time to really study the letters, but it was clear that Cailan had wanted to bring in Orlesian reinforcements and that Loghain opposed him.

“Loghain Mac Tir,” Magnus groused, “ _made_ you his enemy. Bryce and Eleanor fought to kick the Orlesians out! And now they are merely collateral damage to him!? He took them out because there was a _possibility_ that they would oppose his ascent to King regent!? The man who had refused the throne because he believed it belonged to the Theirin line!? Even little Orren, a child of no more than five!?” We shared a pitch black hatred, my uncle and I.  
“He will pay,” Teagan said quietly. Loghain had hurt his family too, even if that attempt failed.  
“ _He_ _murdered my little sister!_ ” Magnus roared, “he tried to kill my little Fae and Fergus is missing. His wife and child murdered in their beds! ‘Paying’ doesn’t even _begin_ to describe what I’ll do to that piece of shit once I get my hands on ‘im!” I put a hand on my uncle’s arm to calm him down a bit. He was well into his cups and I didn’t want to have to go and tame the drunk, raging, giant when he started breaking stuff.

“We are working on it. He is living on borrowed time, uncle, we’ll kill him. But we have to do it right, you can’t go and tear a King regent to pieces just like that. We need to convince the Landsmeet we have a damn good reason to tear him to pieces first.”  
“Why!?” the big burly man exclaimed exasperatedly and he stood, towering over me.  
“Why extend him the courtesy of letting him live a couple more days!? He’s an animal that needs to be put down!” Magnus bellowed.  
“This animal happens to have an army at his back, an army that we need to stop the Blight,” I said calmly and stood too, staring up at him, “I don’t want this to come back around to bite our asses once the horde attacks.” Magnus threw his hands in the air.  
“Every day that sack of shit draws breath, he is working against you! He’s send hitmen, assassins, put a bounty on your head, laid countless traps! You need to stomp him into the ground! Not allow him to do more damage! How many chances has he gotten to kill you now? How long before one succeeds!? Why don’t you _march_ on this _maggot_ and put him out of his misery while you can!?” Magnus’ face started to turn red, his voice got louder and his movements more aggressive. I wasn’t having any of it. In a moment of mad fury I reached up, grabbed his beard, and pulled his head down to my level to glare into his face.

“Now you _listen_! I’ve invested a lot of time and energy in this because I’m taking back _everything_ that has been taken from me and more! Because I want him to go down into history as the traitorous cunt that he is! Because I want _everyone_ to know what he is! I am going to _destroy_ the legend of the hero of the river Dane! I will take his armies and march on the enemy he allowed to tread our lands! I will make it so that _none_ mourn his loss! Now sit your ass down and stop behaving like a child throwing a tantrum! I’ve been working on this since the day I left Highever, you will _not_ mess it all up because you couldn’t keep your temper! I don’t need _you,_ fucking up my _shit!_ Got it!?”

Magnus and I stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before I let go of his beard and he stood straight again. Then he let out a full, bellowing laugh and sat back down. Behind me I could feel Alistair and Teagan let out a sigh of relief.

“I believe you kid, ah, it seems only yesterday that you were sitting in my lap and braiding my beard. Now you’re manipulating an entire country with a Theirin man at your side. Ellie would be so Goddamn proud of you,” Magnus said and sat back down. I gave him a tired smile.  
“I did promise her to live and thrive…” I felt deflated and drained after that confrontation. Uncle Magnus had a temper like an angry bull when it came to his family, and I understood why he would get so worked up. To him, Loghain was simply a threat that needed to be taken out at this point, and the sooner the better. That didn’t serve my purposes however, and while I loved the big angry man, I wasn’t going to let him tell me how to play my game.

“I think you’ve been going above and beyond, lass. But you’re taking a lot of risks,” he said, calmly this time.  
“I know, uncle. I try to minimize them where I can, but it’s all or nothing at this point. Ferelden is suffering a Blight, we can’t sacrifice our troops to attack Loghain if it means they’ll be that much more vulnerable when the horde comes. It not worth the risk, not when we can force him to capitulate.”  
“He’ll stop at nothing lass, he will fight to keep his throne until his dying breath. You realise that, right? This can only end with either him, or the both of you dead.”  
“That’s the point uncle. It was him that decided to come after us, not the other way around. There is no other way out of this. It’s us, or Loghain. And I’m not going through all this effort to dethrone that piece of shit only to let the Archdemon eat me for dinner because my forces are weakened and my country has torn itself to shit.” Magnus shook his head with a smile.  
“And there is Bryce talking,” he sighed, “alright, I’ll follow your lead. Now, can we see about some dinner? I’m famished.”  
“Down in the great hall in about half an hour,” Teagan replied after checking a timepiece and Magnus stood and stretched.  
“Perfect, meet you there. Keep your pants on.” And with that, he said his goodbyes and left the room.

* * *

I sighed when I closed the door after him and turned back to Teagan and Alistair with an apologetic smile.

“So, that was uncle Magnus,” I said with a sheepish grin.  
“Are you sure he’s not a bear? He looks like an angry bear,” Alistair said dryly.  
“Yeah, sorry you had to see that unprepared. He’s all bark and no bite though,” I replied. Alistair laughed.  
“Don’t be, I like him. I can see a lot of family resemblances.”  
“Must be the reason she got away with yanking his beard,” Teagan added. I gave a chuckle.  
“Yeah, don’t try that. He’ll break your hand if one of you tries that.”  
“Rightly so,” Teagan added while stroking his own beard, “never touch a man’s beard without permission. I’m going down to the great hall to see if everything is in order.” Teagan left the room and Alistair and I were once more alone.

“’My little Fae?’” Alistair said with a grin that promised endless teasing. I shrugged.  
“It’s short for Fela, the faery thing is a pet name from when I was a kid. I would always ask him for stories about faeries.” Alistair chuckled again.  
“It’s cute,” he looked up at me with laughter in his eyes. I moved to sit in his lap and leaned against his chest.  
“I miss those days,” I said quietly with a sad smile.  
“I know,” Alistair said gently and held me close.  
“It’s good to have him here, my uncle. But it brings back a lot of memories, you know…” I continued, “he makes me think of home.”  
“Did you really braid his beard when you were little?” Alistair asked.  
“Yeah,” I chuckled, “he didn’t mind, he got to braid my hair too.”  
“The mental image is absolutely adorable,” Alistair replied and kissed the top of my head. I smiled again and chuckled.  
“I _am_ adorable, that’s how I got away with yanking his beard.”  
“Warn me the next time you do that, so I can get as far away as possible when he gets mad,” Alistair said playfully.  
“You should see him when he goes berserk,” I replied.  
“Berserk?”  
“Yeah, he’s a berserker, like Oghren, only four times bigger and heavier packed into one person. He can turn a battlefield into a madhouse,” I explained.  
“Well, now I _really_ want to stay away from him when you yank his beard again,” Alistair said dryly.  
“You say that as if you’re already certain it will happen,” I observed.  
“Shouldn’t I be?” I smiled.  
“Yes, probably.”

* * *

We walked into the great hall, and found Magnus and Sten staring at each other menacingly.

“Oh, shit,” Alistair muttered and moved to diffuse the situation. I grabbed his arm to stop him.  
“Wait,” I said quietly, “listen.”

Sure enough, I could hear both men growling low in their throats, giving their best predatory glare. Alistair gave me a surprised look that bordered on hysterical laughter when he heard it.

“What are they doing?” he asked quietly.  
“Power display, I’ve seen Sten do it with Asher before they became best friends forever,” I replied. Alistair stifled a snicker before he replied.  
“Like some animals do when they figure out their hierarchy?”  
“Something like that, but the hierarchy thing isn’t as important. Sten is deciding if Magnus is worth his respect as a warrior and a man. He’s not going to claim food and females or anything,” I answered. This time, Alistair couldn’t keep his laughter back, startling the two giants out of their staring contest.

I stepped forward.  
“Sten, I see you’ve met my uncle Magnus,” I said casually. Sten gave an affirmative grunt and eyed Magnus again.  
“Sten, huh? A warrior then, of the Bereshaad?” Magnus said inquisitively. Sten’s hard expression faded somewhat.  
“Yes. How does a human know this?”  
“I’ve had dealings with the qun, trade mostly. Picked up a few things about your ways,” Magnus replied.  
“You don’t look like a merchant,” Sten observed. Magnus nodded.  
“I am Bann Magnus Mac Eanraig of the Storm Coast. Most merchants avoid dealing with the qun, so when I need quality steel, I use my own contacts to buy from the qun directly. Got a lot of men to outfit if we’re going to stop the Blight,” he said and relaxed. I noticed Sten do the same. With proper introductions made to Sten, I took my uncle’s arm to introduce him to the rest of our party. Which transpired in a far more subtle manner. Save for Shale and Morrigan, even when they tried, their manners were somewhat coarse. Shale called him squishy, Morrigan barely gave a nod and glowered.

Uncle Magnus got along just fine with most of our companions and managed to find some common ground. He may be a beast of a man, but that didn’t mean he lacked social skill. He had always done the same thing with any crew he sailed with, you bond with the people that you need to have your back. A lesson I had taken to heart. He agreed that he couldn’t argue his squishiness with a being made of stone. Loved ale almost as much as Oghren, was fond of Leliana’s songs and stories, was entertained by Zevran’s usual antics, and shared some good old ‘kids these days’ conversations with Wynne.

Sten was stoic as ever, but he seemed to appreciate my uncle’s protectiveness towards me, and approved of his tendency to take out any threat head on. Magnus was quite vocal about his feelings towards Howe and Loghain. Morrigan kept her distance as usual, Asher already knew Magnus and was overjoyed to see the man. Magnus remained a bit distant towards Alistair, I assumed he was keeping a close eye on him to see how he treated me. Magnus may not be a traditional man when it comes to adult relationships, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t keeping a watchful eye on us. By the end of the evening though, Magnus was starting to warm up to him, Alistair was interested in childhood stories about me and my family. Magnus was eager to share them.

“Right, so, lass is six years old, huge mane of unruly hair, big eyes, little Fae around the edges, darting through the castle with her brother. Fergus is nine. And Howe’s eldest, Nathaniel, has been teasing Fergus. Nothing serious, you know how kids are. Anyway, Fae challenges the kid to a dual to restore her brother’s honour. First, Nate refuses, going on about how she is a girl and girls can’t fight. He was also a head taller and four years older. Then she says he is just afraid to lose to a girl and Nate decides he wants to put her in her place. They decide on a time and place and sneak some of the wooden training swords out. Agreeing that it should be a proper duel and nobody needs to die. Anyway, little lass ducks under Nate’s sword and hits his legs. He falls and she’s on ‘im, punched ‘im in the face a few times, bloodied his nose.” Magnus snickered.

“But he still won’t apologise to Fergus. Staff has found them and pulled them apart by now. So what does she do? She gets a bag of flour from the pantry, and hides up on the castle wall near the stables. When little Nate goes for riding lessons, she throws down the bag of flour!” Magnus laughed, “it makes a great big cloud of the stuff and the horse startles, throwing Nate off and into the mud. He ended up white at the front, and muddy at the back, hah! When he came to tell on her, he looked Goddamn ridiculous! Going on about her trickery, all red faced and trembling, half white, half muddy! Throws a raging tantrum.” Magnus paused to take a deep drink from his tankard.

“Now, Bryce and Eleanor are none too happy with their youngest and they demand she apologises. Too which she said, he shouldn’t have been, and I quote, ‘such a little bitch.’ Can you believe it! Six years old! Bryce nearly pissed himself, laughing so hard and Eleanor is fuming.” A roar of laughter escaped him. “Maker’s arse, she was angry. And all the while, little Fae just stands there, hands behind her back waiting politely while her mother tears Bryce a new one!”  
“She hasn’t changed much,” Alistair replied with a laugh, “she once told the man who believed he should be King of Orzammar to shut the fuck up and called him a dumbass.” Magnus cracked up once more.  
“Yep, as we know and love her.”

“You two getting along?” I asked as I sat down with a fresh mug of ale.  
“Ah, it’s fine lass. Nice group you’ve got around you, like a small army,” Magnus replied and smiled. I leaned on one arm, looking around the hall.  
“They’re quite something, aren’t they?” I mused. Oghren was arm-wrestling Teagan, Zevran was bantering with Wynne, Leliana and Shale were discussing shoes, and Sten and Morrigan sat contently quiet at the far end of the table. Asher lay under the table at my feet, dozing off.

“We’ll be headed to the Brecillian Forest tomorrow,” I said turning back to face my uncle, “we’ll need the Dalish elves at our backs and time is running out.” Magnus nodded.  
“I know lass, don’t you worry about your old uncle Magnus. I’ll be making some visits among the nobles, make you some more allies. I’ll be there in Denerim for the Landsmeet. I know a few people who owe me a favour or two, and I’m calling them in.” I stood to hug my uncle.  
“Thank you, uncle.”  
“Ah, don’t mention it, lass, you’ve got your hands full with the Blight. We can’t let you save this country all on your own, now can we? It’s our country too.”  
“Just, stay safe. Ok?”  
“Always, lassie. I’m indestructible, runs in the family.”

* * *

I awoke with a jerk, Asher nuzzling my hand. I had been dreaming about Flemeth. Not about our last and final encounter where she nearly killed Alistair. She had been in my dream to guide me somewhere. No, _away_ from somewhere. It slipped. I sighed and let it go, it was just another one of the regular nightmares. One of the non-sensible kind. I sat up and rubbed my dog across his back.

“Good boy.”

Alistair was fast asleep, breathing steadily. I stretched, deciding I was done sleeping for a bit. I quietly got dressed to go for a walk, staring at the ceiling would do me no good.  
“Come on, boy.” We quietly made our way down to the courtyard, Asher remained to go about his business while I climbed the steps to look out over Redcliffe. The village looked more brightly lit than the last time I had stood there. Of course, I had met the Arl there too and gotten into an argument. There was no sign of him tonight. Just as well. I didn’t feel like getting into _another_ argument with him. My mind was with Flemeth.

Somehow, I regretted killing her. She’d been a living legend, one of a kind. I wondered if she was truly dead. The moment I met her so long ago, I had sensed something off about her. There were many things off about Flemeth of course. She had seemed outright crazy, and at the same time, incredibly powerful and calculating. She had made herself seem older and more feeble than she truly was, her hair unkept, her clothes just a little too large and ill-fitting. And then there was the attitude, she had acted like she had all the answers and was merely entertained by our stumbling attempts to grasp the things she knew.

But despite all that, there was something about her that just didn’t quite fit. It wasn’t in her mannerisms, the way she looked, or how she acted. It was something that nagged at the back of my mind, I couldn’t place it. Didn’t understand why there would be this scratching at the back of my mind. I didn’t know whether it was trying to tell me to be weary, or to tell me it was fine. Maybe it was just telling me that I had been dealing with a creature I could never truly understand. The way she gazed into me last time we spoke…

A black cat with glowing golden eyes jumped onto the castle wall, looking at me expectantly.

“Hello, Morrigan,” I said with a tired smile. Morrigan shifted back into her original shapely form.  
“Out for a stroll, are we?” she asked in her mocking voice.  
“Dreams,” I said with a sigh, “you know how it is.”  
“Not quite, I imagine,” she replied softly.

“Sorry, I haven’t found a moment to give you Flemeth’s grimoire. It seemed like the kind of thing you don’t do openly,” I said with a small smile tugging at my lips.  
“You have it, then? I had hoped it could be retrieved,” she said hopefully. I nodded.  
“I do, it’s in my pack, safely tucked away.”  
“Fela,” Morrigan began, fidgeting with one of the leather straps on her attire, “I wanted to… thank you. As you know, I am… not quite familiar with the concept of friendship. I have trouble navigating some parts of your world. That has always set me apart, because I could never really relate to another person. But you made the effort to reach out, to know me and let me know you. I have never met a person who was willing to do that for me. And over time, I have come to think of you as a friend, perhaps even a sister.” She briefly looked up at me, just the barest hint of vulnerability in her golden eyes.

“I know I may not always show it, but I feel… You went out of your way for me, to protect me from Flemeth. I… know I had no right to ask such a thing of you. You risked your life, and I… I want you to know what a rare and unknown thing that is to me…” She trailed off, looking for words. I smiled at Morrigan, still fidgeting with the leather strap.  
“It’s alright, you don’t have to say it. I understand. You are my friend, and I am yours.” We fell into a comfortable silence. I imagined it must be easier for Morrigan to share her feelings under the cover of darkness. It’s easier to be as you truly are in the dark.

“How do you do it?” Morrigan finally asked quietly, “relate to people like you do.”  
“Honestly, I don’t know,” I confessed, “it’s like trying to explain what the colour blue looks like to a blind man. I can’t put the words to it.”  
“’Tis not a common thing, then?” I shook my head.  
“No, I don’t think so. It’s a… I don’t know… sixth sense sort of thing? You know without all the ridiculous mysticism and old wives tales about mind reading. I look at a person, and, I just… see.”  
“And the rest of us are watching but not seeing?”  
“Yes! It’s like that.”  
“What is it exactly that you see?”  
“I’m not sure, all my senses just respond and my mind translates I guess. It’s not perfect, I can be fooled. People usually feel a multitude of emotions, some stronger, some weaker. I read the balance and connect the dots with what I know.”  
“Must be a useful tool,” Morrigan mused.  
“Most of the time, I don’t always get to choose what I pick up. I get a lot of the shitty things too,” I replied.  
“Such as?”  
“Many people are desperately unhappy, especially with times being what they are. There’s a lot of… hurt, carried by others and unless I make a constant effort to keep it out, I absorb it.”  
“I see,” Morrigan said quietly. We remained quiet for a moment.

“Let’s go get your grimoire. Now is as good a time as any,” I said and move to go back inside. Morrigan followed quietly.

* * *

The next morning, I found the time to go over the letters we had retrieved from Ostagar while Alistair was still asleep. It was a rather interesting read. Cailan wanted to re-establish political relations with Orlais, stating that the war was in in the past. He meant to bring in reinforcements that Loghain desperately wanted to keep out in his hatred towards Orlais.

Judging from the letters, Empress Celene was merely waiting for Cailan’s word, ready to send him the armies he needed. On top of that, Eamon had been pushing Cailan to leave Anora on account of her not having given him an heir even after five years. And judging from the lack of formalities, the choice of words, and amicable tone of Empress Celene’s letters, they had been quite close. And with Eamon pushing Cailan to set Anora aside…

Putting myself in Loghain’s shoes, which made me feel dirty by the way, I could see how he felt betrayed by Cailan. In his eyes, Cailan was setting Anora aside to marry Empress Celene and hand Ferelden right back to the Orlesians. I felt disgusted. I understood a little part of Loghain’s actions, I could see where they came from. I wanted nothing to do with that bit of insight, I had been working very hard to dehumanise Loghain. I needed him to be the monster, seeing him as a man that had felt terribly betrayed, undermined that.

I shook my head to clear it of him. Whatever Cailan was planning to do, didn’t matter anymore. Loghain’s actions could not be excused, he killed my family for this, his best friend’s son, he sabotaged Ferelden’s defence against the Blight, _for this!_ A stack of letters that did not scope the full truth of these correspondences. I shoved them away from me.

 _No wonder he tried to kill Eamon,_ I mused, seeing the man in a whole new light. It seemed he had a habit of overstepping himself with those who outranked him. I would have to keep an eye on him.

I wondered if Loghain was aware of Alistair’s heritage. So far, this had only been revealed to a few people who had no ties to Loghain. But he was Maric’s best friend and advisor, if Maric had been aware he had another son, surely Loghain would know it? Maybe it wasn’t just that we survived, maybe Loghain saw the Landsmeet coming. It would certainly explain the efforts he had already made in several attempts to kill us.

 _There’s always another secret_ , I thought to myself.

Loghain was possibly more aware of how vulnerable he was than we had assumed. And while he was thorough, we kept eluding him. I smiled to myself when I imagined how frustrated he must be by now. Good. I hoped he lay awake at night, wondering what we were doing and how it would affect him. 

After Alistair woke up and we had breakfast, we went over what we knew about the Brecillian Forest with Eamon. His scouts had come back with reports on how far the Blight had already spread. The Dalish elves wouldn’t be where the Blight was, eliminating a large portion for us to search. From there, we looked for bodies of water that might support a group of people as large as the average clan. We planned out a route, hoped for the best, and said our goodbyes.

Eamon had outfitted us with horses, it would allow us to travel faster, and in the Brecillian Forest we didn’t need to worry about buying food for the horses, they could graze.

So, we cut our bloody way east, darkspawn encounters grew more frequent and we met several parties of bandits, bounty hunters and hitmen. And one in particular, was an interesting encounter.

* * *

Zevran returned from scouting, “more up ahead, looks like they are waiting to ambush us.”  
“How many?” Alistair asked.  
“A dozen I think. Six archers, four warriors, the leader, and his second. They blocked the road and are hoping to flank us from both sides.”  
“Alright, let’s send Shale ahead and have her cause some ruckus, maybe throw a rock or something. Once they start attacking her, we take out the archers and catch the warriors in a pincer move. Fela, you take Sten, Leliana, and Morrigan. I’ll take Wynne, Oghren, and Zevran. You go with Fela, Asher, as always,” Alistair decided and Asher gave an affirmative gruff.

I motioned for my group to descend and follow me into the trees. We gave Shale a few moments to continue down the road before we followed among the trees. I crept ahead of Sten, stealth wasn’t his strong suit so he kept a short distance. That way I could warn him if we ran into anyone. I led my small group around and back to the road. Shale’s stomping gave us an idea of where to go. I meant to approach the archers from behind, the sooner we got rid of them, the better. The sound of a loud crash echoed through the treeline and told us where to go.

The first archer was focussed on Shale, allowing me to creep up from behind and I quietly took him out with my dagger. Leliana did the same with the second. Morrigan took a less subtle approach and blasted the third with a fireball. It distracted the warrior’s attention from Shale and Sten crashed out of the treeline to meet them. I followed him, one of the warriors got crushed by Shale in the meantime. Sten and I took out the next two. Alistair, Zevran, and Oghren took out the remaining three.

Well, two. Zevran had kept his alive.

“I thought we might ask this one some questions, yes?” He said while looking up at Alistair and me. I looked at Alistair, who shrugged, and back at Zevran.  
“Why don’t you do the honours,” Alistair replied, Zevran grinned.  
“My pleasure,” he said and looked at the man under his knife. He squirmed.

 _“Goddamnit,_ only the little redhead she said!” the man blurted out, “we wasn’t gonna kill the rest o’ ya.” There was only one redhead he could be referring to. Alistair had a tinge of red but he could hardly be called a redhead, let alone little. Leliana grabbed my arm when she heard the man’s words.

“Who send you,” she demanded.  
“S-some Orlesian woman,” he stammered.  
“Name,” Zevran hissed in the man’s ear and pressed the dagger a little closer to the man’s throat.  
“She didn’t give me a name! Please!”  
“No?” Zevran asked and pulled the man’s head back by his hair and put the dagger under his eye, “how about now?”  
“No! No, please!” The man wailed.  
“It doesn’t matter, if she gave him a name at all, it would have been a false one,” Leliana said calmly.

“Où est-elle?” She demanded.  
“Je ne sais pas, s’il vous plait!” he replied.  
“Dîtes-moi! Ou tu mourras lentement!” she snapped, her normally soft-as-honey voice sounded like the rasping noise of an angry rattle snake. She nodded to Zevran, who pressed the point of the dagger into the skin just beneath the man’s eye.

“Arrêtez! S’il vous plait! Denerim! Elle est a Denerim! S’il vous plait, laissez-moi partir!”  
“You need to start explaining some things, Leliana,” Alistair said apologetically.  
“Shall I squish the little man?” Shale offered.  
“It’s more spectacular than cutting his throat,” Zevran said with a casual shrug. Leliana made a dismissive gesture with one hand.  
“Go ahead.”  
“Non! S’il vous plait, ne m’écrase pas! Elle est au quartier marché, a Denerim! S’il vous plait, je vous ai dit tout que je sais!” Leliana gave a sly grin at the admission.  
“Let him go, it makes no difference,” she finally said.  
“Merci! Oh, merci bonne dame!” the man practically kissed her feet.  
“Aller, ne me lais pas te revoir,” she said coldly and waved a hand.

“So I take it you already know who send them after you,” Alistair began. Leliana nodded.  
“I thought I had left my old life behind…” she said thoughtfully.  
“Leliana,” I said slowly, “why is this person trying to kill you?” She sighed.  
“It was a long time ago… I am sorry to burden you with this.”  
“Just tell us, maybe we can help,” Alistair encouraged.  
“It’s my old mentor, Marjolaine. She trained me in the subtleties of the Grand Game, taught me how to use a bow. She was involved with some dangerous people, making some dangerous moves. And when I discovered what she was doing, she forged documents to frame me. Painted me as a traitor… I was arrested before I realised what she’d done. She had me tortured… Using the skills she taught me, I escaped and fled the country.”  
“So you came to Ferelden, and joined the Chantry in Lothering,” I inquired.  
“Yes, I thought I had left it all behind… But now, it has caught up with me. I am the only person alive who knows what she did,” Leliana said and averted her eyes.  
“And she’s held up in Denerim, in the market district,” I continued.  
“So he said,” Leliana said quietly, her eyes were glassy, like her thoughts were far away.

“Let’s just focus on the Dalish for now. I will deal with Marjolaine when the time is right,” she righted her shoulders and walked back in the direction of the horses.

I shared a look with Alistair, who shrugged, and called for the others to finish up and get going. They had been looting the corpses, a grisly job but their pockets needed to be turned around anyway. They might have letters, documents, some kind of orders. If we found something valuable while we were at it, and pocketed it, what of it? We needed every coin we could get to help funding Redcliffe’s army, the dead had no use for it. We needed runes for the Circle of Magi and precious stones for the dwarves, too.

Leliana was quieter than usual when we made camp that night. She was hurting, but she wasn’t ready to talk yet. I guessed that she preferred to be left alone with her thoughts for now. I tended to the horses while the others made camp. Oghren had decided that gathering wood was his standard chore, and somehow always managed to come back piss drunk.

“Hey, hey Warden!” I heard Oghren call when he dropped an armload of wood.  
“Yes?”  
“You gotta,” he belched, “you gotta- heh, you gotta help me out with something,” Oghren said in a hushed tone.  
“Sure, what is it?”  
“You any good at tying knots?” Oghren said in a conspiratory tone.  
“Uh, sure. Why not,” I said with a shrug.  
“Alright, listen. Thisis important,” he said urgently.  
“You want me to tie you down again?” I said while I crossed my arms.  
“What? No!”  
“I already told you, you cannot fall up into the sky.”  
“Right, but-”  
“Neither can your tent.”  
“But-”  
“Or your packs.”  
“But what about the horse!?” Oghren exclaimed with wide eyes, pointing at the animal that was observing us with a bland look as it chewed grass.  
“Horses stay on the ground too. In fact, generally speaking all things like to stick to the ground. If something is at risk of falling up, I will warn you, ok?” I said sternly. Oghren sauntered off to sit by the fire and get drunker, gently swaying back and forth with every step. Probably mumbling some obscenities under his breath. 

I shrugged and got on with taking off my armor after setting down my weapons. I was just having a nice stretch when Zevran approached.  
“You look as radiant as ever, my beautiful Ferelden rose,” he said with a smirk.  
“And you, are overdoing it, as always, my Antivan friend,” I replied, mimicking his oily tone.  
“Could you just humour me for once?” Zevran replied.  
“No.”  
Zevran sighed, “fine, I was just wondering how you were holding up. You nearly lost Alistair at Ostagar, I imagine being confronted with it like that can’t have been easy.” I smiled and relaxed, he was being sincere.

“Thanks, Zev. I’m alright,” I replied.  
“How is he healing?”  
“Remarkably well, actually.” Zevran grinned.  
“I expected as much, given your recent… exertions, that I overheard.”  
“I would scold you, but I feel that’s not really _your_ fault.”  
“I hope it was as good as it sounded,” Zevran said gracefully.  
“I wouldn’t sound like that if it wasn’t,” I admitted. Zevran wriggled his eyebrows.  
“Alistair is, a generous lover, then. No?”  
“He is… he’s delicious,” I said with a sheepish grin.

“Can’t get enough of him, can you? I don’t blame you, you rarely see men as handsome _and_ goodhearted as him,” Zevran replied, watching Alistair help chopping vegetables.  
“They say it’s a thing of the Theirin line,” I mused, following Zevran’s gaze.  
“You’ll have handsome babies then,” Zevran replied. I gave him a sideways look.  
“You know who’s been talking about babies a lot?” I asked darkly, Zevran met my gaze a gave me a knowing smile.  
“Can you blame the guy for looking forward to it?” he replied, I returned the smile.  
“Of course not. But I have a war to fight first. Ok, and _maybe_ I feel a bit pressured, all this talk about having an heir from Eamon,” I made a sharp gesture, “it’s my body, not a baby dispenser. He doesn’t get to have a say in what happens to it. Or inside it, for that matter.”  
“Can’t argue with you there,” Zevran agreed, “isn’t he below you in your hierarchy?”  
“He is. Though I don’t like throwing my title around. I’ll fight that battle without it. And if I’m really honest, Howe took my lands and titles. Just because Eamon doesn’t acknowledge that now, doesn’t mean he couldn’t use it against me if he wanted to,” I explained.

“So, are you Teyrna or no?” Zevran asked.  
“Short version, yes. For now,” I replied, “but as things stand, the title is born out of loyalty from others, not by recognition from the crown. It is a given power, not a hereditary one.”  
“I see,” Zevran mused, “you would do well in Antiva.”  
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> “Où est-elle?”  
> "where is she?"
> 
> “Je ne sais pas, s’il vous plait!”  
> "I don't know, please!"
> 
> “Dîtes-moi! Ou tu mourras lentement!”  
> "Tell me! Or you'll die slowly!"
> 
> “Arrêtez! S’il vous plait! Denerim! Elle est a Denerim! S’il vous plait, laissez-moi partir!”  
> "Stop! Please! Denerim! She is in Denerim. Please, let me go!"
> 
> “Non! S’il vous plait, ne m’écrase pas! Elle est au quartier marché, a Denerim! S’il vous plait, je vous ai dit tout que je sais!”  
> "No! Please, don't crush me. She is in the Market District in Denerim! Please, I've told you all I know!"
> 
> “Merci! Oh, merci bonne dame!”  
> "Thank you! Oh, thank you good lady!"
> 
> “Aller, ne me lais pas te revoir,”  
> "Go, don't let me see you again."
> 
> Google Translate is my friend, but my French is super rusty so there might be mistakes in there. Feel free to help me correct them. 
> 
> I see I've been getting some kudos, I am almost childishly proud of that ;)  
> Thank you!


	40. The Brecillian Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group searches for the Dalish elves.

Our trek along the eastern highway went about as well as could be expected. With the horses, we made better time. But being forced to scout ahead due to regular attacks from highwaymen, hitmen, and darkspawn, meant that progress was still relatively slow. The weather wasn’t doing us any favours either, rain made us miserable on a regular basis.

We didn’t stop to wait it out, we had little time to waste when it came to looking for the Dalish. We asked anybody with a friendly face if they had heard anything, but no such luck. After five days we had finally reached the edge of the forest and settled down to make camp. I noticed Wynne seemed… more tired than usual. Drained? Perhaps? I wasn’t sure.

“Are you alright, Wynne?” I asked as I sat down next to her.   
“Oh, I’m fine, dear. Don’t you worry about little old me,” she said in her warm grandmotherly voice.   
“Are you sure? Because you seem… tired. Is it your mana?” I pressed on.   
“My mana is fine, like it has always been. I’m just tired from the road, I’ll be right as rain tomorrow morning,” Wynne insisted.   
“Alright, but you should skip taking watch tonight, have a full night’s rest. You know, as far as that’s possible while sleeping in the dirt,” I replied. Wynne chuckled.   
“Thank you, dear. That should rejuvenate these old bones.”   
“Oh, I’m sure there is some kick in those old bones yet,” I said with a lop-sided grin.   
“Careful, now, young lady. With lip like that, your bones might never get this old,” Wynne said playfully. I gently squeezed her shoulder before moving on to Leliana, it was time I talked to her about that business with the hitmen.

“Leliana?”   
“Yes?”   
“Let’s go for a walk,” I said and motioned for Asher to follow us.

Leliana fell in to step beside me. For a few minutes, we just walked quietly. I was giving her time to find her words, she knew what we were doing.

“Marjolaine was committing treason against a high noble,” Leliana finally said.   
“She used me… had me plant documents, spy on people, assassinations… She kept me on a need to know basis. And when I found out, I confronted her. I begged her to run, to just stop what she was doing and run.” I remained quiet, letting her find her words on her own. “I would have just walked away, forget the whole thing and moved on. But Marjolaine… I trusted her,” Leliana angrily blinked her tears away, “she mentored me for years, taught me everything she knew. I thought that _meant_ something! I wouldn’t have exposed her, even after she used me like that. But she…” Leliana sobbed quietly but kept talking.   
“She exposed _me_ , painted _me_ as the traitor. I was arrested, interrogated, and when I couldn’t give the answers they sought, I was tortured…” she trailed off and pulled her tunic up to show me the scars. It looked like they had been searing her with hot iron.   
“I acted weak, like my will had been broken. It’s best to show your torturer what he wants, and usually he wants to feel powerful. I waited until he let his guard down, and escaped. I didn’t think she would follow me to Ferelden, but, here she is.” Leliana was quietly crying behind one of her hands.   
“She was more than just your mentor, wasn’t she?” I asked gently. Leliana stared at her feet.

“Oh, come here,” I said softly and moved to embrace her. She let her head rest on my shoulder while she sobbed, her forehead against the curve of my neck. I gently rubbed her back, drawing slow circles with my hand.

I let her cry it out, it seemed like she needed it. Eventually, we sat down, and she cried with her head in my lap. I stroked her hair and softly hummed for her. Leliana had suffered a kind of betrayal very few people ever truly got familiar with. Marjolaine had forced her to leave her entire life behind, and just when she was beginning to build a new one, Marjolaine had resurfaced. Leliana was convinced Marjolaine would never stop hunting her, that meant there was only one way out.

“How do you want to handle this?” I asked in a whisper when she quieted down.   
“I’ll have to face her in Denerim…” she replied.   
“You don’t have to do it alone, I’m with you, ok?” Leliana got up and wiped her tears on her sleeve.   
“Thank you,” she whispered with watery blue eyes, “I would feel a lot better with you at my side.”   
“Hey, if I can kill Morrigan’s mother, I can probably kill your ex-girlfriend too,” I said reassuringly. She chuckled.   
“I haven’t said she was my girlfriend.”   
“You don’t need to,” I replied, “it wouldn’t hurt you this bad if you didn’t once love her.”   
“And how do you know she loved me back?”   
“Honestly? I can’t be sure. But judging from your response I’d say you got a lot closer than you would have gotten if she hadn’t,” I replied.   
“You just see everything, don’t you? I must be an open book,” Leliana chuckled and blushed slightly.   
“Well, cat’s out of the bag, I’m interested in both men, and women. I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable or anything,” she added shyly.   
“Leliana, I would be the last person to judge you for that. Trust me, I’ve played with girls too,” I replied honestly. A small smile played around Leliana’s lips.   
“Have you now? Does Alistair know?”   
“Of course, it rather fascinates him,” I said with cheeky smile. Leliana giggled.   
“Naughty. You two are so perfect for each other… It’s hard not to be a little jealous of that.” I paused.

“I… don’t know what to say to that…” Was she insinuating something? It was sometimes hard to tell with her. Leliana laughed.

“It’s alright, I know we’re just friends. Though I can’t say I haven’t thought about it.”   
“I’ll take it as a compliment then,” I said and hugged her again.   
“Let’s get back to camp, before Zevran sneaks up on us and says something, what he would call, ‘witty and charming.’”

Dinner was ready by the time we made it back to camp. The night progressed as usual, and I crawled into my tent early. It had been a long day, I wanted nothing but to just lie down. Asher followed me and nuzzled my ear as I lay outstretched on my bedroll.

“Yeah, good boy,” I mumbled as I reached up to scratch him behind his ear.   
“You want some quality time, huh?” I said and rolled onto my side, arms outstretched. Asher snuggled up against me and I took him in a big hug.   
“There’s my boy,” I cooed and stroked his head. Asher liked to cuddle from time to time. He was like a big puppy that just wanted to be held and loved at those moments. It was almost hard to believe he tore off limbs on a daily basis.

I guess the same was true for nearly everyone in our party. While Shale, Sten, and Morrigan were generally prickly to most, the others were kind, likeable people. It’s what made them so effective at gathering information and spreading heroic tales. The things we were capable of… people usually didn’t see it until directly confronted with it. Every single one of us was ruthless, it’s what we needed to be. It wouldn’t do to get stabbed by a refugee gone bandit, as cold as it may sound, our need to live was greater than theirs. Couldn’t stop a Blight if we were dead. Besides, they came after us, not the other way around.

“Well, now I’m jealous,” Alistair said with a grin as he entered the tent.   
“Of me, or of Asher?” I countered.   
“A little of both?” he said thoughtfully, “yes, both.”   
“Well, come on and get in on this then,” I replied. Alistair lay down on his side behind me, wrapping an arm around both Asher and me.   
“Yeah, this is nice,” I mumbled.   
“Very nice,” Alistair concurred, Asher let out an agreeing gruff.

“You talked to Leliana?” he asked quietly.   
“Yeah, she’s pretty broken up about the whole thing,” I replied.   
“Anything I need to know?” he inquired, not wanting to cross any boundaries concerning Leliana’s privacy.   
“Just that she needs us to have her back, and we might have an Orlesian bard to kill,” I answered.   
“Alright, I can do that,” Alistair replied with a sigh.   
“I worry about Wynne, does she seem more easily exhausted than usual to you?” I asked.   
“Now that you mention it…”   
“She says she’s fine, but I think we should keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t exhaust herself to the point of collapse…”   
“Got it.”

“Did you talk to Morrigan?” I asked.   
“Yeah, she’ll show us what to look for, then scour the area as a bird. Starting tomorrow.”   
“Sounds good, did you two play nice?”   
“ _I_ played nice, Morrigan played… Morrigan.”   
“Well, you got to an arrangement with her, I’d call that progress.”   
“Next time, you deal with Morrigan.”   
“Sure.”   
“We make a good team.”   
“We do, don’t we?”

I grinned sheepishly at our banter. And the truth was, I _did_ feel like we made a good team. We shared the load of leadership and talked decisions through with each other. It felt good, to do it side by side. I was still the one our companions talked to when something was wrong or they needed something. Alistair handled battle strategies. I would scout, Alistair would protect. He would keep the mood light with a silly joke, and I would keep us from bickering amongst each other constantly.

“It’s a strange thing, the world as we know it is being torn apart by civil war and the Blight. And meanwhile I am happier than I’ve ever been,” Alistair said softly.   
“Well, good. That you’re happy, not the Blight and the war of course,” I replied. Alistair chuckled.   
“I know what you mean. Though, if there hadn’t been a Blight, we never would have met.”   
“The one good thing about the Blight, is that it brings people together,” I said with a grin.   
“I said that, didn’t I?” Alistair replied.   
“I think those were the first words you spoke to me,” I said while remembering that day. I had been wandering the fortress, trying not to be noticed so I could be alone with my grief. Instead I found Alistair.

“You must have thought I wasn’t right in the head,” he snickered.   
“Oh, don’t worry, _I_ wasn’t right in the head at the time. I didn’t notice,” I said playfully.   
“Only at the time?” Alistair teased.   
“Maybe,” I replied in a dodgy tone. Alistair laughed.   
“Maybe try laughing in the Archdemon’s face, then we’ll settle the matter of your sanity once and for all.”   
“You know what, I just might,” I replied thoughtfully, “just to piss it off.” Asher whined at my comment, “ahw, it’s alright boy. I don’t plan on getting eaten,” I said reassuringly while petting my dog’s head.

Eventually, Asher left the tent to go about his dog-business. Leaving Alistair and me alone in the tent. It’s no mystery what we ended up doing, Alistair’s hand had made it to one of my boobs, even before Asher got up and left, and I had felt his erection press into my backside way before that.

He nuzzled my neck, planting soft kisses on the sensitive skin and brushing my hair back with his fingers. I felt his tongue on my earlobe before I felt his teeth nipping at it, making me shiver and sigh. He trailed kisses along my jawline before moving to my mouth, rolling me onto my back and into his arms. Alistair kissed me like he wanted to devour me, holding me close, his body pressed against mine. I melted into it, every fibre of my body burning to be closer to his. My hands found their way under his shirt, roaming his back and shoulders, tracing the muscles under his skin. I pulled his shirt up over his head to get at the tops of his shoulders and his biceps. My tunic went next, followed by my breastband, and pants.

I pulled Alistair down to kiss him again as I unfastened his trousers with one hand and slipped it inside. He groaned when he felt my grip, biting down on the flesh between my neck and shoulder. He rolled his hips, as I started rubbing him. He quietly moaned into my mouth at my touch, I flicked my tongue against his lips as he did so. I ran my free hand through his hair before rolling us over with me on top. I got up on my knees to pull his pants off, followed by his smalls. I leaned in to kiss him again and he gently slipped my panties off my hips. I sat to straddle him, my hands on his chest as I let him slip inside, letting out a soft gasp.

The gasps turned into moans as I rode him. Alistair moved his hips with mine, roaming my body with his hands. I dug my fingernails into his shoulders savouring the feeling of his length pressing against my inner walls, the tingle and heat that rose from it. Another moan left my lips when he tilted his hips up, pressing himself deeper inside me. I dug my fingernails deeper into his skin, making him groan low in this throat before he took hold of my wrists and pulled my hands up above his head, forcing me to lean down on him. It turned into a passionate kiss, made of lips, tongues, and teeth. I kept riding him, and he kept moving with me. I softly cried out my pleasure with every stroke. Alistair tangled his fingers in my hair, then pulled his hand into a fist to pull my head back and run his tongue along my throat. I shivered and let him roll us over, wrapping my legs around him.

Alistair pinned my wrists to the ground, devouring my neck while continuing our rhythm.   
“Oh, Maker’s blood, you feel so good,” I whispered, I was rewarded with a deep, long stroke. Alistair let out a low chuckle into my ear at my response, a high-pitched moan as I arched my back. He kept it up, eliciting more moans and gasps from me. I struggled to free my wrists from his grasp, to wrap my arms around him and pull him close. He tightened his grip, keeping my arms where they were. I felt him smile against my cheek, enjoying his control over me.

I turned my head to be able to kiss him, he returned my kisses with vigour. Claiming my lips as his, like he was claiming the rest of my body. I surrendered to him, clenching my legs around him just a little tighter. A small challenge, meant to entice him into an even more dominant role. He moved his hands to hold both of my wrists with one, leaving the other free to wrap around my throat. Gently at first, then firmer as he noticed my pleasure grow. I tilted my head back, pressing my neck into his hand, urging him on.

Alistair picked up the pace, moving with my build-up. My inner walls clenched around his length, the tension slowly spreading to my abdomen and down my legs. It continued spreading until it reached the centre of my chest. By then Alistair’s breathing was ragged, he was building to his own climax. He squeezed my throat tighter, cutting off my breathing right before I went over the edge. He released me as I came, groaning at his own release. His hands moved away from my wrists and throat to take me in a loving embrace. We slowed to a stop, entwined in one another and breathing fast.

I sighed, and wrapped my arms around him, running my fingers through his hair. I smiled stupidly against his ear, enjoying my moment of bliss, gently drawing circles with my fingernails on his back. Alistair let out a sigh that was closer to a purr.

“Not even lyrium is as addictive as you,” he said softly, I chuckled.   
“Well, thank you.”   
“You are twisting it around to poke at me, aren’t you?” he said with a smile and a raised eyebrow as he got up on his elbows to look at me.   
“You just compared me to a dangerous drug, though from what I hear it’s quite pleasant. So I’m taking it as a compliment,” I said innocently. He chuckled and gave me a soft kiss.   
“I meant that I love you and can never get enough of you,” he said as he rolled his hips one more time.   
“Oh, _Maker,”_ I moaned involuntarily as he did so and grasped at his biceps. I resisted the urge to swat at him when I saw him grinning at me with that wicked look in his eye that said; ‘tease all you like, I’m still in control of your body.’ Instead I looked up at him with an equally wicked grin and ran my fingernails up and down his back, making him sigh once more and lean down to kiss me.   
“Two can play at that game, my love,” I whispered against his lips after the kiss broke, nipping at his lower lip before he moved back again.   
“You’re terrible,” he said with a smile that suggested the exact opposite.   
“You started it,” I countered. He laughed.   
“Yes I did, I still blame you, though.” I rolled my eyes dramatically and sighed.

“Yes, it was I, that led you down the path of temptation and sin. Corrupted you beyond redemption. The Maker and his Holy Bride weep,” then I grinned, “at our obscene displays of hot, ball-slapping, animalistic fornication and mind-shattering, shaky-leg orgasms.” Alistair burst out laughing and rolled off me and onto his side where he lay snickering and looking at me with eyes that gleamed with amusement.   
“Blasphemy has never been this much fun,” he said in between laughs.   
“I don’t think it’s really blasphemy if the Maker doesn’t give a damn, but I suppose the Grand Cleric would disagree with me,” I replied.   
“Are you kidding? She would burn you at the stake if she knew what you’ve been up to all your life,” Alistair replied with another laugh.   
“But, she _doesn’t,_ ” I pointed out, “who’s going to tell her, you? Honey, you’d be tied to the other side of the stake. Or perhaps impaled on it, depending on how creative she is.” The mental image was so ridiculous it had me giggle.   
“Good point, she hates my guts,” Alistair conceded, “and I’d much rather continue making the Maker and his Holy Bride weep with you.”

“Wise choice, Alistair,” came Zevran’s voice from outside our tent. I rolled my eyes in earnest this time.   
“Did you enjoy the show?” I asked flatly.   
“Show? No, no show. The noise though, I did enjoy that,” Zevran replied with a snicker. Alistair groaned and rolled onto his back while pinching the bridge of his nose.   
“Couldn’t you at least _pretend_ you weren’t listening?” he said exasperatedly.   
“Ah, my finicky friend,” Zevran said, “where is the fun in that?”   
“I give up,” Alistair declared.   
“Did you need something?” I asked, changing the subject.   
“No, but I was wondering if I might share some of my wisdom-” Zevran began before Alistair and I cut him off yelling “no!” in unison.

“None of your wisdom!” I added.   
“Why not?” Zevran whined.   
“Because last time, you spent almost half an hour on explaining the right preparations for anal sex!” I replied.   
“What’s so bad about that?”   
“For Alistair!” I added exasperatedly.   
“Why does that matter?” Zevran retorted. I paused.   
“Actually, why _does_ that matter?” I asked Alistair. The horrified expression on his face was priceless.   
“I don’t want… _that!_ ” he snapped.   
“There’s your answer, Zev,” I said with a chuckle and gave Alistair a reassuring pat on his arm.   
“So does that mean _you’re_ open to it?” Zevran asked, his tone suggested a smirk from ear to ear. Alistair quirked an eyebrow and I put a hand on my forehead.

“Zevran?” I called.   
“Yes?”   
“Go away,” I said with a sigh.   
“You’re mean, my dear, finicky, Ferelden rose,” Zevran replied.   
“And you have the dirtiest mind in Thedas, my voyeuristic friend,” I answered, and listened to him saunter off.

“Why does he keep doing that,” Alistair groaned.   
“Mostly because he’s bored I think,” I replied musingly, “and he enjoys embarrassing others.”   
“Why, though,” Alistair added with a desperate gesture.   
“Keeps people from getting to close to him, I think,” I replied, “you deflect, using humour. He prevents, using that nasty mind, and even nastier mouth, of his.” Alistair groaned.   
“Does he really need to make us a target though?” he groused, I chuckled.   
“I think _we_ make us a target, or rather, we supply him with endless inspiration,” I replied, Alistair sighed.   
“We’ll just have to put up with him then.”   
“Oh, come on, he’s not that bad,” I said and brushed my fingers across his chest, “now come keep me warm, it’s getting chilly.” Alistair abided gladly, snuggling up to me under the blanket. I fell asleep quickly, my head resting on his shoulder and an arm draped across his chest.

* * *

The next day we got ready to travel into the Brecilian Forest.

Morrigan explained the Dalish were likely to have worn trails around their camp as they would need to go out hunting regularly. Since they moved around a lot, Morrigan suspected they wouldn’t bother hiding any trails they made. She also mentioned that the Dalish kept halla, which looked a bit like a deer mixed with an elk. The fine and nimble built of deer, with the warm coat and antlers of an elk. She warned us never to attack such a creature, as they were sacred to the Dalish. She went on to show us the more subtle signs of people passing by, bent grass, bruised leaves, broken twigs, and scuffmarks on tree trunks.

“As you can see, most of you stomp through these woods like frisky brontos,” Morrigan sneered as she pointed to the tracks left by Alistair, “the Dalish will not be this boorish.” Alistair sighed and gave me a pointed look.   
“Do try to avoid fooling yourselves into thinking that crude marks like these,” she gestured at a deep boot print from Oghren, “are left by the Dalish. They treat their surroundings with proper respect, unlike you lot.” She gave us a disdainful look.   
“There will be no perfect boot prints, no pieces of cloth hanging from branches, no x to mark the spot,” she finished coldly. Her tone suggested she expected us to stumble around in the forest until we wandered into the Dalish camp by sheer luck. That is, if we would recognise a Dalish camp if we walked right into it.

“Are you done?” Alistair asked flatly.   
“If there are no more questions,” Morrigan said scathingly, pitching her voice a little higher at the end of the sentence to make it sound like a rhetorical question. I shrugged, no doubt Morrigan would lash out with that sharp tongue of hers.

“Let’s go in pairs, Shale, you can stay on the paths with Sten. You two will guide the horses. Oghren, you’re with Leliana. Zevran is with me, and Wynne is with Alistair. Keep each other in sight but keep about twenty feet between yourselves and the next pair. We all move in the same direction along the path, we’ll cover more ground that way.” I instructed. I was met with several nods and assenting grunts.   
“Morrigan will have the birds-eye view,” Alistair added with a lop-sided grin. Morrigan rolled her eyes at him before moving a safe distance away from Shale and transforming into a hawk. The bird looked up at Alistair with mocking yellow eyes before turning and flying off. Shale glared after her mumbling something about evil swamp witches.

“You run into trouble, you call for us, ok?” Alistair said and looked around the remainder of our group.   
“Keep your eyes open and stay alert,” he continued, “we may run into darkspawn, giant spiders, wolves, bears, and all manner of nastiness. So you’ll need to pay attention to your surroundings as well while you look for tracks. That’s why we’re moving in pairs, one looks for tracks, the other watches for possible threats. Switch roles frequently, it’ll help keep you sharp.”   
“Tracks and threats, got it,” Oghren said and took a swig from his flask.   
“Do try to be stealthy, we’re spread pretty thin. No need to attract any unwanted attention,” I added and motioned for Zevran and Asher to follow me.

“I must say, I am flattered you picked me over Alistair,” Zevran said teasingly.   
“Zevran, dear, Alistair fills the important role of being my fellow darkspawn detector. In this situation, it would be silly to have both of us in one place,” I retorted.   
“Ah, my dear Fela, no need to make excuses,” Zevran purred, “there is no shame in craving my company,” he added with a flirtatious grin. Asher gave gruff that sounded like he was mocking Zevran. I snickered.   
“Not even the dog is impressed,” I observed, Zevran shrugged.   
“His mind is easily changed, a nice piece of dried meat perhaps?” Asher wagged his tail at Zevran and gave a big doggie grin.   
“That was his plan all along, you know,” I remarked and grinned as Zevran shot a look at Asher that said; ‘traitor!’

“You look for tracks,” I said, “I’ll watch your back.” Zevran nodded, and we got to work.

The first day was uneventful, though that was to be expected, we weren’t very deep in the forest yet. So it made sense that there were no Dalish camps to be found. We didn’t run into any enemies yet either, though that was just a matter of time. The second day, Leliana and Oghren found themselves face to face with a very, _very,_ angry bear. It was fairly easily dealt with, Leliana was a remarkable sharpshooter. One arrow in its eye, one in its throat, and one in the back of its giant maw had put the bear down before it could reach them. They skinned it for the pelt and took as much meat as we could eat in the upcoming days before it would spoil.

The third day we encountered some darkspawn, stragglers mostly and they were easily dealt with. By the fourth day we were starting to get bored, and by the fifth we were starting to get frustrated. At the end of the sixth, we were starting to take it out on each other

“You’d think there would at least be a fire to indicate their location,” Alistair groused and narrowed his eyes at Morrigan. She glared at him.   
“I assure you, if there was a fire giving away their location, I would see it.”   
“Perhaps you should fly off a little further then,” Alistair replied coldly.   
“Or you could try using that organ between your ears for a change,” Morrigan countered, “rather than the one between your legs.”   
“Parshaara,” Sten cut in, “this talking is getting us nowhere.”

Shale hurled a rock at a bird in a display of her displeasure. Oghren was drunk, and Zevran was trying hard to follow his example. Leliana and Wynne were squabbling over what to make for dinner. And I was sitting back against a log with my dog’s head in my lap, stroking his head absentmindedly.

“If they keep at it like this, the Dalish will come and find us for sure,” I said quietly. Asher arched one of his eyebrows at me and looked up with big brown puppy eyes.   
“What? I’m tired too you know. They should be able to behave like adults on their own.” Asher kept staring at me.   
“Fine.”

I got up, “alright, everybody shut the fuck up for a moment,” I said and drew their attention to me.   
“Did any of you thought this would be easy?” I asked, looking around the group of cranky faces, “did you think we’d find them after only a few days? This, _this,_ is the reason we saved the Dalish for last. There is no telling how long it’s going to take. Make no mistake, this area may be marked on our maps, but that doesn’t mean it’s known territory. We just drew a line around it, and called it the Brecillian Forest. It is vast, unknown, and we are going to be here a long while. So stop bickering. I don’t want to break you people up like fighting children every night. It’s getting dull, and we are going to be here a while longer.” I looked around again, none, except Alistair, were meeting my eye. The rest stared at their feet or were pointedly looking anywhere but at me. Then I turned to Leliana and Wynne.

“How about some stew?” They nodded and got to work. Oghren sighed and took a long drink from his flask.   
“I’m sick of eating bear meat, how about a nice fat rabbit instead?”   
“We’re not wasting any food Oghren, we don’t know how long this search is going to take,” I replied with a stern look and an appeasing nod to a glaring Leliana.   
“So if I killed a rabbit right now, we’d have to eat it right? So we don’t waste it?” Oghren said with a sly look. Morrigan laughed.   
“How are _you_ going to catch a rabbit?” she snorted an gestured at Oghren’s short legs.   
“Same way I might shoot us a hawk for dinner,” Oghren bit back.

“Enough!” I snapped, “Oghren, you’ll eat whatever is in the pot. We all know you always do. Morrigan, quit taking every comment as an invitation to an insult.”

I walked over to Leliana and Wynne, to see if they needed anything.   
“Fela, I have an idea that might lighten the mood a bit,” Leliana said when she looked up to see me approaching. I smiled.   
“Do tell.” Leliana returned my smile.   
“I could take everyone’s attention off the Dalish for a while with a good story,” she replied.   
“That would be great Leliana, thank you,” I squeezed her shoulder an gave her a grateful smile.   
“You guys need any help here? Maybe I could look for some wild onions or herbs?” I asked. Oghren scrambled to his feet to stand next to me.   
“I’ll help-” he belched, “I’ll watch your back, heh.” He slapped my backside, I retorted by slapping the back of his head. Zevran stood too.   
“I’ve seen some wild carrots earlier today, we can go back for those. It’s not far.” I nodded when I saw Wynne and Leliana give appreciative looks.   
“Sten, could you and Morrigan gather more wood for the fire?” I looked up at the sky, “it’s going to be a cold night.” They both gave me a nod and took off. Morrigan and Sten paired well together, as neither of them was very talkative. Alistair decided to tend to the horses and Shale took off with two buckets to get water.

“Come on Asher, let’s go find some veggies,” I said and motioned for Zevran to lead on.

“Hey, hey Warden,” Oghren said in his raspy voice.   
“Yes?” I said politely.   
“Have you ever heard this one?” he said with a chuckle before he recited,

“A bear taking a dump asked a rabbit,  
Does shit stick you your fur as a habit?  
Of course not, said the hare,  
It’s really quite rare  
So the bear wiped his ass with the rabbit.”

Oghren looked at me, his eyes wide with laughter, waiting for my response.   
“Get it? Because bears shit in the woods?”   
“Very appropriate,” I said appreciatively and gave a small smile. Oghren and Shale had been exchanging dirty limericks. The two had found common ground and were often the source from which laughter emanated from our company. I had never really cared for limericks, and Oghren had taken it upon himself to come up with one that would make me laugh.   
“And? Do you like it?” Oghren asked.   
“Sure,” I said, “but not enough to make me laugh.”   
“Bugger,” Oghren cussed, “you got no sense of humour Warden.” Zevran led us back to where he had seen the carrots while we looked around for anything eatable. We found some mushrooms, and some parsley. Zevran also picked a herb he called tongue-tickler. He showed Oghren and me the delicate herb.

“It spices up the food. It is widely used in Antiva to flavour many dishes,” he leaned in and whispered, “when one consumes this herb, and then performs oral pleasure on another, it becomes… more intense, for the recipient.” I cocked an eyebrow, and Oghren laughed his roaring laugh.   
“You Antivans, horny buggers, the lot of you! Alright, let’s bring the sexy herb, I want a taste of that.”

We brought what we collected back to camp. Wynne and Leliana rolled their eyes when Zevran and Oghren told them of the tongue-tickler herb, but agreed to put some in the stew. Which turned out pretty good with the herbs and vegetables we brought. The tension from earlier had receded and the conversation turned to the story that Leliana had promised.

“How about that story you promised us, lass?” Oghren asked with a grin, “I hope it’s a dirty one.” He wriggled his eyebrows and took a swig from his flask. Morrigan rolled her eyes, and huffed before leaning back with her arms folded behind her head.   
“Will there be birds in the story?” Shale asked tentatively. Leliana shot her a warm smile and giggled, “in case of any bird appearances, I’ll be sure to find a creative way to have them crushed.” Shale gave a nod and a stony smile. Leliana rubbed her hands together.

“Everyone ready? If you need to answer a call of nature, now is the time.” Nobody moved and we all waited patiently. Well, I moved. To sit between Alistair’s legs and lean back into his chest. He kissed the top of my head and put his arms around me. Asher lay snuggled up beside us, and I scratched his head with one hand.   
“This is a story I’ve been working on for a while,” she began, “you will be the first to hear it, and possibly the only ones to ever hear this version. This is a story about two people who met under dire circumstances. Fate had decreed they suffered a terrible loss that brought them together. And together, they would go against all odds to change the fate of a nation. This is the story of Lyra and Zane.”

* * *

Imagine a world where the sky is always painted in the colours of twilight, where shadows have their own minds in places where the light cannot quite reach them. They lurk, always watching, waiting for a chance. They are the demons of this world, so different from our own. They are malicious, and cruel, longing to inhabit a corporeal body, allowing them to walk in the light.

It was one such shadow, that came to Lyra in the dead of night. Lyra was the eldest daughter of a powerful mage, and her own magical talent already exceeded that of her father. Her eyes were the colour of the moon on a cold night, and her hair was black like the midnight sky. It was her beauty, and her power, that drew the shadow to her that night. It slithered into her bedroom, caressing her skin with its tassels. Lyra awoke to find the shadow enveloping her, its black tendrils around her neck. But Lyra was unphased. She called light to her, to burn the shadow away. It shrieked and wailed in pain, releasing Lyra from its grasp.

“What do you want from me?” Lyra demanded. The shadow laughed at her maliciously.   
“Your power is wasted on you, mortal. Let me in, and I shall preserve you.”   
“I will do no such thing, for you seek to possess me. I will not unleash your evil upon this land.”   
“Such is a relative term,” the shadow replied, “what you consider evil, I consider merely a means to an end. I offer you an escape from mortality, let me in, and you will have eternity.”   
“I will not serve your ends, and I accept my mortality,” Lyra responded.   
“Then you are a fool!” the shadow shrieked, “I will take that which you love most in this world, I will make your happiness turn to ash in your mouth! You will spend each and every one of your remaining mortal days, regretting that you refused me!”   
“Then I will burn you,” Lyra spoke, “I will send you back to the void, where you cannot hurt me or mine.” She called light to her once more, illuminating her bedroom until the light was so bright, it blinded her. But a small piece of the shadow had hidden itself away.

It survived Lyra’s light, and crept away from her bedroom. Making its way to the room where her little sister, Mya, slept. Lyra, blinded by her light, was unaware of the danger her sister was in. Mya was no mage, and defenceless against the shadow that crept up along the floor of her bedroom. The girl was sleeping soundly, her chest gently rising and falling with her breath as the shadow stroked her skin. It was already too late when Lyra heard the scream. She found her way to her sister’s room by touch, stumbling and frantically searching. Lyra’s fingers did not find her sister, they found the bed empty.

The warmth from her sister’s body slowly ebbing away. Lyra wept tears of light for her little sister, then screamed at her failure to protect her. At her mistake. She had blinded herself, if she had been able to see, she could have stopped it. In that moment, she vowed to find and kill the thing that had taken her sister. This is how her story started, and this is how, though blinded, she came to travel to an ancient forest, where she would meet Zane.

Zane was a hunter, experienced and hardened. His hair was the colour of honey, and his golden eyes shone in the dark. He carried a bow, made from fine teak wood. He had made it himself, it was strong and durable, more so than any bow you can buy. He called it Jaeger, and he was never without it. It was on a rainy spring day, that Zane was tracking a wildcat.

He crept silently though the underbrush, spying the animal as it moved through the forest. Zane followed the wildcat until it stopped at a clearing, and trained his bow at it. In the sunlight he could see the coal black fur of the wildcat clearly, it was so dark it seemed to absorb the light. Whereas its eyes were the colour of the moon. He hesitated, unsure if he was looking at an ordinary animal. It was when the animal met his gaze that he lowered the bow. It looked at him with pale, intelligent eyes, full of sorrow. It wasn’t the look of a wild animal. Zane knew, he could not kill this wildcat. He knew the sorrow in those eyes, he knew the sorrow that comes from losing someone dear. He knelt and slowly laid his bow on the ground, showing the wildcat his palms, in a gesture of peace.

The wildcat studied Zane, cocking its head and taking a tentative step towards him with the careful posture of an animal that was considering to run, but was just too curious about the human kneeling in front of it.

“It’s ok, I’m not going to hurt you,” Zane said in a low and calm voice, attempting to soothe the wildcat. The animal looked up at him and carefully sniffed the air, then it walked in a slow circle around him. Zane stretched out one of his hands for the animal to sniff.   
“You know I’m a hunter too, huh?” Zane continued in his soothing tones, “I hope I’m not intruding on your territory.” The cat never broke its gaze as it sniffed Zane’s hand and carefully touched it with its nose. It allowed Zane to stroke its head, and gave a shy purr.   
“So what brings you here? I hear there is good game in these parts, one hunter to another,” Zane asked the large cat. It cocked its head at him again, curiously studying him with moonlit eyes.

The shrieking noise of a boar snapped them out of their focus on one another. The cat backed up, with its body low to the ground while Zane reached down for his bow. The boar charged, barely leaving Zane any time to roll to the side and draw an arrow from his quiver. He got one arrow into its meaty shoulder before having to evade it again. This time, Zane sprinted away and climbed up a tree where the boar could not follow.

It is no easy task to fell a wild boar with arrows, and Zane knew the animal wasn’t likely to give up. When safely sitting on a thick branch, Zane fired more arrows at the raging chunk of muscle that was the boar. One of his arrows hit one of the boar’s hindlegs, incapacitating it. It was then that the wildcat charged forward, pouncing on the shrieking animal that had decided to pick a fight with Zane today. The wildcat got its jaws around the boar’s throat, crushing its windpipe, as the cat bit down. Its maw was slick with blood when the boar stopped struggling and died. It looked up at Zane, as if expecting something.

Zane stared down at the cat, trying to decide if it had just intentionally rescued him, or followed its instincts to kill a weakened animal. The wildcat licked its lips, and then turned to leave.   
“Wait,” Zane said quickly, “uhm, thanks. That was my last arrow, I would have been stuck up here until it bled out or left.” He climbed down from the tree and turned to approach the wildcat. However when he turned, a young woman stood in its place. Her hair black as the deepest shadow, and her eyes pools of moonlight. Her mouth and chest were covered in blood, and she smiled shyly at Zane. He gaped at her, he had never seen such magic before. From what he saw, he could tell that the woman in front of him, had been the wildcat that had killed the boar for him. He wasn’t sure if his mind wasn’t tricking him.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to frighten you,” she spoke, “it’s just hard to prepare people for something like this when you cannot speak.”   
“Who are you?” Zane asked.   
“I am Lyra, daughter of Hirwen,” she replied and extended a hand.   
“I am Zane, son of Sidon,” he said and took her hand.   
“Why did you help me?” he asked.   
“Why didn’t you shoot me?” she retorted. Zane hesitated.   
“I… had never seen such a magnificent creature before.” Lyra laughed behind her hand.   
“Why, thank you. I helped you because you seemed… kind. And because you didn’t shoot me on sight, others have not done me that courtesy.”   
“Then why traverse these woods as a wildcat?” Zane asked. Lyra’s smile faded.   
“I can’t see very well, in daylight, I am nearly blind. I rely on other forms to see in daylight, one of those is the wildcat.”   
“Only in daylight? Can you see in the dark?” Zane asked incredulously. Lyra nodded as she wiped the blood from her lips.   
“My eyes are too sensitive, when the sun is in the sky, everything is bright and white. I can’t see colours or fine details. Merely shapes of light,” she explained.   
“Was it always like that for you?” Zane asked. She shook her head.   
“No, it happened when I called light once. I was completely blind for a time, but now that I’m used to it, I can navigate the world around me. I can always rely on the other forms I possess.”   
“You can call light?” Zane asked with wide eyes.   
“Amongst other things, yes. I am a mage,” Lyra replied.   
“What brings a mage to these woods?” the hunter asked. Lyra’s expression grew dark.   
“I am looking for a temple dedicated to the Old Gods. Within it lies a way to track down a shadow.”

Lyra went on to explain what had led her there, the shadow that came to her in the night, the disappearance of her sister, and her search. Zane knew of the shadows of course, they had terrorised the land long before he was even born. It was an evil he had grown up with, and he too, had suffered at their hands. Zane knew of the place that Lyra sought, an old temple dedicated to ancient gods from a time long since past. Though he wasn’t sure what Lyra expected to find.

“I can take you there, if you wish,” he offered, “it’s the least I can do after what you did for me.”   
“You are very kind to offer your help. However, I cannot be certain there won’t be any danger. I don’t want you injured or killed on my account,” she said. Zane shrugged.   
“I’ve lived here all my life, I know my way around. And I’m not defenceless,” he said stroking his bow. This gave Lyra an idea.

“Your weapon won’t harm a shadow, not as it is. I will imbue your arrows with light, you can burn them away with arrows of light.” Zane took out his quiver an handed it to Lyra.   
“You might want to cover your eyes,” she warned as she pulled the arrows that could still be used from the boar, “the light will be quite bright until it settles in your arrows.”

Zane took her advice, though he was curious about Lyra’s magic, he felt it was best to do as she told him. Lyra commanded the light to bind itself to Zane’s arrows, with a whisper from her bloodied lips, it seeped into them. Entwining itself with the wood, the feathers, and the metal of the heads. Lyra made it so, that the light would be contained within the arrow and it would give a burst of bright light upon impact. When she finished, the arrowheads only gave off a soft glow, the light patiently waiting to be released.

Zane marvelled at the arrows with the glowing heads.   
“Go ahead,” Lyra encouraged, “try one.” Zane nocked an arrow and aimed it at a tree. It soared through the air with a sigh, making a sharp cackling sound as it impacted on the tree and released a flash of golden light. Zane cheered, a broad boyish grin on his face and his eyes wide with excitement.   
“That is the most wonderful thing I have ever seen!” he cried and took both of Lyra’s hands in his, “I cannot thank you enough.” Lyra smiled.   
“It’s no trouble, really. Thank you, for your offered help.”

They set off to find the temple, Zane leading the black wildcat through the forest. The forest had mostly reclaimed the old structure, vines and small plants covered the broken down walls, their roots entwined with the stone. Moss and soft grass covered the ground, and muffled the sound of their footsteps. Lyra padded next to Zane, carefully listening for any movement. She and Zane crept through the ruin of the old temple, down into it’s catacombs, and to the Well of Sight that Lyra sought. She reverted to her human form to approach the Well, gazing down into its waters.

“Show me Mya,” she commanded, anxiously praying that she would see her sister alive. The waters rippled and formed an image, her sister, shrouded in shadows. Lyra gasped, the shadow had not only taken her sister, it had possessed her. The girl Mya, was no longer. Lyra watched as she saw what remained of her sister approach their home, where their father waited for his daughters to come home.

At that moment, Lyra was startled by the sound of an arrow zipping through the air followed by a golden flash. Shadows had descended on them and had them surrounded. She turned and ran for Zane, warning him to cover his eyes before she called upon the light once more. The shrieking and howling sounded like music to her ears. She let the light burn them, focussing it inside her and letting it radiate out. She didn’t stop until all went quiet.

“I need to get back home,” she said and turned to run from the temple but Zane stopped her by grabbing her arm.   
“Why? What did you see?” he demanded.   
“My father is in danger, I need to get back home,” she urged.   
“Let me come with you,” Zane replied.   
“You won’t be able to keep up, I will use my other forms to travel at great speed,” she answered.   
“Then use a form that allows you to take me with you,” Zane insisted.   
“Why?” Lyra asked in confusion and desperation.   
“Because I care what happens to you,” he said. Lyra stared at him for a brief moment, and then dragged him along and out of the temple.   
“You’re going to have to hang on really tight, ok? I hope you’re not afraid of heights,” she said and shifted into a giant hawk. _“_

_Is it going to crush the hawk?” “What? No! She’s the main character!” “But it said-” “This bird isn’t a real bird, it doesn’t count.” “Does that mean Morrigan doesn’t count?” “No, but it certainly means you have trouble applying simple logic.” “Shut your traps! I like this story.” “If, you’re all done, I’d like to continue.”_

She bent down to allow Zane to climb onto her back and took off. She felt Zane’s death grip on her feathers as they gained height, and then she heard him cheering in amazement. Apparently enjoying the ride.

Lyra and Zane reached her home by dawn. Lyra was exhausted, but she reverted to her human form and hurried to the door. She froze after stepping inside, her sister stood there, shadows clinging to her skin and blood dripping from her fingers.

“You have come too late, sister dearest,” the girl’s mouth moved, but it wasn’t her voice that came out. It was the voice of the sha-

* * *

Asher suddenly stood and growled. I held up a hand to make Leliana stop.

“Draw your weapons,” I whispered and moved to get up. I wasn’t sensing any darkspawn, so it must be something else. Movement in the trees, I glanced at Asher to see in which direction his focus was drawn. He was looking in a different direction, more than one threat then, coming at us at different angles.   
“Stay back to back,” I whispered as I glanced around, “we might be surrounded. No darkspawn.” My companions moved at my words to form a circle around our fire, facing outward. There was more movement in the trees, before a huge beast burst out. It charged Sten but was knocked aside by Shale before it could reach him. It growled, scrambling to its feet and howled. More beasts burst from the trees, and the fighting broke loose in earnest.

I stepped aside to evade a claw, and brought down my swords to sever it from the hairy arm. The creature howled and yelped, but I already had one rapier in its side down to the hilt, and the other upwards in its throat. I pulled my blades free in time to swipe at a beast that nearly pounced on me. My cuts across its snout stopped it from slamming me into the ground, but I was knocked aside by a massive claw. My armor held, but the impact send me flying. I crashed into Sten, who quickly pulled me to my feet, only to push me back again to get me out of the way of another charging beast. He felled it with a downwards slash.

By then, I had charged another of the beasts and buried my blades into its chest. I went down with it and kept stabbing at it until it stopped moving. Shale crushed one as Wynne and Morrigan combined their magic to freeze and electrocute another. Leliana was unloading arrows with such speed I could barely see her move. Not that I had a lot of time to watch, another beast had cornered Zevran. I went down into a slide and cut at the beast’s legs, forcing it down on its knees. This gave Zevran time to cut its throat before moving on to the next.

I saw Alistair impale one of the beasts, leaving his sword to roll to the side and evade another that came charging from behind.

“Alistair!” I yelled to get his attention and tossed him one of my blades. He caught it just in time to swipe at yet another beast, forcing it back with a flurry of blows. He switched styles easily, my rapier was much lighter than his longsword. It allowed him to move much faster than the longsword did. The combination of a rapier and a shield was a bit odd, but he made it work.

I replaced my missing rapier with the dagger that Asher had given me, sprinting towards Leliana, who was being flanked by two of the great beasts. I jammed my rapier into the base of the tail, one of the most sensitive area’s in most animals. It had the desired effect, it turned away from Leliana with a howl and focussed on me instead. I backed up a bit, steering it away from Leliana.

“That’s right, come on, ugly son of a _bitch_ ,” I taunted. The creature howled again before coming at me. I ducked to slice at its belly with my dagger as I passed between its legs. The creature clawed at me and stumbled as it was trying to catch something that passed under it. It gave me enough time to jump on its back and jam the dagger into the base of its neck, and again, and again, until it slumped and stopped moving. I took a handful of fur with me when I let myself go down with it and roll to my feet.

I looked around, the creatures lay slain and my companions were checking on one another. They seemed alright, so I knelt down to better inspect one of the creatures that lay close to the fire. I stared at it, its mangled features, the snout, patchy fur. It was a goddamn werewolf.

“Morrigan?” I called and waved her to my side, “please tell me I’m imagining the dead werewolf at my feet.”  
“’Tis not your imagination,” she replied, “you’re looking at a dead werewolf.”   
_“Goddamnit!”_ I snapped and kicked at the dead animal, “as if darkspawn, high dragons, _giant_ _fucking_ _spiders_ , drakes, deep stalkers, weird magic stone contraptions, undead, bears, wolves and whatever else I missed weren’t enough! We get ambushed by fucking _werewolves!?_ ” I emphasized each with a vicious kick at the corpse. I turned to Morrigan again.   
“All I know I got from children’s stories, so you’ll have to enlighten me, their bite, it turns you, yes?” She nodded.   
“Yes, the disease resides in its saliva. The process may take a few days, or a few hours, depending on the strength of the victim. But all eventually turn, or die.”   
“How about their claws?”   
“A scratch from a claw won’t infect you, but I would advise you to avoid them at any rate,” Morrigan replied dryly as she crossed her arms, apparently sharing my frustration at this new development.

“Did anyone get bitten?” I asked and looked around my companions who had gathered around us. They shook their heads, I shared a brief look with Wynne, who nodded in affirmation.   
“Good, avoid that at all costs. I think we can expect them to hunt in packs, so if you see one, there will be more,” I warned. Morrigan nodded approvingly.

“Werewolves…” Wynne whispered, “that can’t be…”   
“Oh, yes it can! Here, look!” I kicked at the corpse at my feet again, “ _look_ _at_ _the_ _huge_ , _Goddamn_ _werewolf!_ ” I shouted while pointing at it. Wynne shook her head.   
“I thought they were supposed to be wiped out in Ferelden over a thousand years ago. Had it been found in the Korkari Wilds… You don’t suppose they could have been running from the Blight?” She looked at Morrigan, who shrugged.   
“That, I do not know. I do know, however, that this is a werewolf and those must be its pack. Though there are likely to be more about.”   
“We should probably move camp,” Alistair said, “unless we fancy sleeping among dead werewolves, which might attract more werewolves...” I turned to Leliana.   
“I’m sorry your story got interrupted,” I said honestly. Leliana laughed.   
“My dear Fela, how could you be held responsible for a pack of werewolves interrupting us so rudely? It will simply have to wait,” she said and moved to gather her things.

Alistair and I let Morrigan lead us to a new place to set up camp. She walked ahead of us, followed by Shale and Leliana, who in turn were followed by Sten and Wynne, Oghren and Zevran walked behind them, and Alistair and I took the rear with Asher. Alistair handed me my rapier back.

“Thank you for the assistance,” he said politely with a slight bow. I laughed.   
“Oh honey, don’t thank me,” I took his hand, “you know I always have your back.” He let go of my hand to put his arm around my waist and pulled me a little closer.   
“You can have my front too, you know,” he said quietly so Zevran and Oghren wouldn’t hear, “whenever you want it.” I grinned and licked my lips.   
“Careful now, Alistair, I might not care about our audience.”

“The audience encourages you to pretend like it isn’t there,” Zevran stated without looking back. Alistair shook his head.   
“There is just no winning with you, is there?” he asked Zevran.   
“Never, my friend,” he replied with a laugh.   
“Well, except for the fact that I get to take Fela to bed with me,” he retorted, “I’ll count that as a win.” Zevran threw his hands up in the air.   
“You got me. You get to sleep with the most beautiful woman in Ferelden, and I’m left with _all_ the others.”   
“The reason for which, I suspect, is equal parts an obsession with sex and the inability to have a serious conversation,” Alistair answered.   
“You wound me Alistair,” Zevran said dramatically, “do you not see how lonely I am?”   
“Something tells me that you’re only lonely because you choose to be, Zev,” Alistair replied dryly. I cringed a little on the inside at how close to the mark that last comment was, but Zevran just laughed it off and went on to explain exactly _how_ he liked to enjoy the company of others, Alistair included. It ended with him sticking his fingers in his ears and refusing to listen to Zevran’s suggestions.

When Morrigan was satisfied with the distance we had put between ourselves and our former campsite, we set up camp quickly. Not bothering with tents. Instead we slept around the fire like the other times we were forced to move camp. At least it was looking to be a dry night. I lay snuggled in between Asher and Alistair until it was time for our watch with Shale and Leliana. We had doubled it after the werewolf attack, and we were with enough people that we could manage. I didn’t get much sleep, partly because of the werewolves, and partly because of the nightmares.

I wondered if I could die from sleep deprivation, since I seemed to be in a perpetual state of it. But I figured my body would naturally prevent that from happening by passing out. Couldn’t be healthy though… I put that on the list of things to worry about later. It wasn’t going to do me much good to fret about it now, and it wouldn’t help me sleep. Neither would the Archdemon, parading around my dreams, or the cold hard ground we slept on. I couldn’t change those at the moment. So I settled for being appropriately miserable and seeking comfort in Alistair’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, there I went again, I invented a story and shamelessly put it in this fanfic. I admit I am a self-indulgent weirdo with a vivid imagination. I kinda like it that way though ;)


	41. Werewolf Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group continues their search.

The night went by without any more attacks. And the next morning, I took a moment to talk things through with Alistair.

“So how do you feel about being in werewolf territory?” I asked sardonically.  
“Besides feeling like a metalclad snack?” he retorted. I snickered.  
“It adds a whole new dimension of danger, doesn’t it?” I replied, he grinned.  
“It does. But I suppose you want to know if I think the Dalish are worth the extra risk to our party, and you worry about someone getting infected.” I nodded.

“They are already at risk of getting sick because of the Blight, aside from the risk of dying, losing a limb, injury, and so on. Foregoing one of the treaties will have major consequences for our chances of ending the Blight, I don’t think we can afford that. But we could just ask them if this added risk changes things,” Alistair replied. I gave a slow nod. I didn’t doubt they would all choose to stay and continue our search, but that didn’t mean it was the best choice. Alistair was right, we needed the Dalish and our friends were already willingly exposing themselves to a _lot_ of risks. More than I found acceptable but their choice was to stay and help. And if I were honest, I was tempted to take the choice away and get them to relative safety. It was selfish, but born from concern. And now that I had an excuse, I found myself reassessing the risk. Alistair put his hands on my shoulders.

“I know you care for their safety, I do too. But the Blight is bigger than us, we need them. And if it’s their choice to stay with us, then who are we to decide against that?” he said gently, I sighed.  
“You’re right.”  
“Can I get that in writing?” Alistair said teasingly. I looked up defiantly.  
“I tell you you’re right, sometimes,” I said defensively. Alistair laughed.  
“I know, I’m just teasing,” he took me in a metal plated embrace and kissed the top of my head. “Let’s just go talk to them, it will ease your mind.”

As expected, our companions didn’t really care about the added risk. Not in the sense that _they_ were in more danger. What they did care about, was that Alistair and I were in more danger and would be even more so if they left. So they unanimously scolded us for thinking they considered leaving an option. Shale stressed that she couldn’t get sick from the Blight _or_ the werewolves. Oghren, Sten, and Zevran were a little offended that we apparently thought they might get bitten. And Morrigan rolled their eyes at us, and them, remarking that we were wasting precious time. Leliana and Wynne said something along the same lines but kinder. And Asher, well, Asher just wagged his tail. He wasn’t going anywhere ever if he had a say in it, and he did. We had an understanding.

“Ok, fine,” I said throwing my hands in the air, “sorry for loving you, let’s get a move on.” I was met with several grins and chuckles, but they did as I asked. We were soon back to combing the forest.

The day dragged on without any more attacks. I was glad for it, of course, I wasn’t looking forward to fighting more werewolves. But it would have been nice if we had been getting somewhere in our search for the Dalish. All we found however, was bear scat and a rotting deer corpse. Both we smelled before we saw them, but that last one had us on edge for a short moment. We didn’t run in to whatever had killed and partly eaten it, it was long gone by the time we found the remains of its meal.

Needless to say we made camp a good distance away from the foul smelling things. We found a nice spot near a grand Oaktree, Alistair and I put our tent a little away from camp this time, as did Morrigan. Spread out like this it would hopefully make it harder to surround us. And I can’t say we didn’t enjoy the privacy.

After a modest meal, I followed Alistair to our tent. I helped Alistair take off his armor before taking off my own. I had barely finished before he practically dragged me into the tent and pinned me to the ground. He kissed me before I had time to protest and my surprise turned into arousal. I wrapped myself around him as I kissed him back. His lips were hot on my own, forceful and hungry. I let out a moan when I felt his tongue teasing my lower lip and opened my mouth to meet him.

He hurriedly undid the buttons of my blouse, tugging at the fabric impatiently. His kisses moved down my jaw, to my neck, and down to my collarbone as he did so. I ran my fingers through his hair and gasped when he reached the tops of my breasts and moved my breastband. He kissed one while kneading the flesh of the other. I yelped when he rolled one of my nipples between his fingers a little too roughly and pulled my hand into a fist to pull his head back by the hair on the back of his head.

He looked up at me with a cheeky grin and flicked my other nipple with his tongue. I released my grip on his hair to run my fingernails across his shoulders. He moved to sit up on his knees and I kicked off my boots as he pulled off my trousers. I sat up to pull off his shirt and unfastened his trousers. But before I could start to pull them down, Alistair pushed me down and rolled me onto my stomach. He roughly pulled my panties aside and pushed inside me from behind.

I moaned and cried out at being taken so forcefully. Alistair leaned down and I turned my head to be able to kiss him. Alistair groaned as the kiss broke and bit down on my shoulder while he kept thrusting into me. I arched my back in pleasure, pressing myself against him. He sat up again and slapped my ass in response, eliciting more pleasured cries from me each time his palm connected with my flesh. He kept his other hand resting on my ass, slowly inching his thumb down to my asshole. I looked back over my shoulder, eyes wide with surprise. Then I felt him gently massaging it and I gasped with pleasure.

“If that’s what you want, we’re going to need oil of some kind,” I whispered over my shoulder, and saw his cheeks turn red. But he smiled a lustful smile and leaned down to kiss me again.  
“Is it what _you_ want?” he asked in a husky voice. I shivered and moaned when I felt him push his thumb in.  
“Yes.” It send a whole new kind of pleasure through my body, close to the edge of pain but at the same time wonderful. He kept fucking me in a steady rhythm and let me slowly get used to the feeling of his thumb up my ass before he gently started moving it. I clawed at the bedroll beneath us and grit my teeth in an effort to keep a reasonably soft volume. I heard Alistair chuckle low in his throat.  
“You’re such a delightful little freak,” he said and slapped my ass again. I looked back over my shoulder and licked my bottom lip before biting down on it. He leaned down to kiss me once more.  
“Not tonight,” he whispered, but he left his thumb where it was.

We let our rhythm build slowly, both breathing hard and caught up in our act of passion. We switched positions somewhere along the way, I’m not even sure when it happened. We ended with me on top, riding him with my hands on his chest and his hands grasping my hips. I threw my head back as the tension that had been building started spreading. I kept going, letting it spread until I felt it up in my throat. Meanwhile I felt Alistair tense underneath me, keeping pace and digging his fingers into my flesh. The muscles in my stomach spasmed as I reached my climax, making me look down at Alistair as he reached his own. Waves of pleasure coursed through me as I leaned forward to lie down on top of Alistair. He let go of my hips and wrapped his arms around me.

We took a moment to catch our breath. I would have nodded off if the thin sheen of sweat on my skin wasn’t cooling me off rapidly. I rolled off Alistair with a sigh and pulled a blanket over us. He snuggled up beside me, and sighed.  
“I love you,” I whispered.  
“I love you too,” he whispered back and pulled me a little closer against him. My mind was wonderfully empty, as it so often was after sex, and I drifted off to sleep quickly.

* * *

Highever, it was burning. The clanging of metal mixed with mortal screams and the pounding of a battering ram on the gate.

I was running, I had to get to the larder. I had to get to mom and dad. They were dying, I knew. Howe soldiers blocked off my path, forcing me to fight. I drew my blades, but my movements were sluggish. I struggled to move faster, but my limbs were too heavy. I was too slow to block a blade, resulting in a deep cut along my upper arm. Warm blood dripped down my forearm as I unsuccessfully swiped at my attacker. I received a cut across my belly next. I grit my teeth and forced myself to attack. But every step I took, every swipe of my blades, was too slow. I felt it was impossible to land a hit, my opponent would always be _just_ out of reach.

I cried out when I felt a blade slice along my back, and another along the backs of my legs. I spun and swiped with a cry, missing once more. I couldn’t sidestep a blade thrust at my side, and I reeled and stumbled. I was losing blood rapidly and had trouble finding my footing. One arm pressed to my wounded side, I kept myself standing by leaning into a wall. I lashed out wildly with my free arm in a desperate attempt to keep my attackers away from me. Another cut, from my shoulder to my chest, and I sunk to my knees, crying and groaning.

I couldn’t defend myself, and I couldn’t attack. I panicked, and I tried to crawl away. I crawled while my attackers kept cutting and stabbing me. I crawled until my limbs felt like lead, I was bleeding out and dying. I had failed my parents. They would die, waiting for me. I lay waiting for the final blow. It seemed only fair that I should die there like the rest of my family.

I watched the sword coming down.

My eyes snapped open. I stared up in the dark, trying to get my bearings. Asher was nuzzling one side of my head, as if he was trying to wipe the tears away with his nose. He gave a soft whine.  
“Shh, it’s ok boy. I’m awake now.” Asher then proceeded to snuggle up close and put his head on my chest. I cradled him as I quietly wept for my family and my home. I think Asher was doing the dog-equivalent of weeping for home and family, letting out tired sighs and pushing his head into my hands whenever I stopped petting him.  
“You miss home too, huh boy?” I whispered. Asher replied by licking my hand.

It hurt to remember, the dream had brought back very vivid memories that I preferred kept hidden and pushed down. I wanted to forget, to shield myself from the pain that was brought on by seeing people I had known and loved all my life in puddles of blood. Leaving my parents behind to die. Oriana, lying dead over her son’s bloody corpse in a desperate attempt to shield him. The pain it brought on was sharp, and blinding. It made me want to lie down and die, anything to make it stop. It felt like a giant hole in my chest, sucking in any happiness I had managed to find. Smothering it until there was nothing left. I wanted so desperately to forget, to push these memories back down and lock them away so they could never again come to the surface. I couldn’t. I couldn’t forget. There was no escaping it, it would always, _always,_ be there.

“Fela?” Alistair asked sleepily, “hey… why are you crying?” he moved to put his arms around me and kissed my cheek. I rolled into his embrace and softly cried against his chest.  
“I miss them so much,” I whispered between sobs.  
“I know, my love,” he whispered comfortingly.  
“I was there, when my nephew was born. Fergus was so happy, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. How can I tell him? How could I ever tell him his son was murdered along with the woman he loved? Fuck, I don’t even know if he’s alive. And I don’t know what would be worse, knowing he was dead, or having to tell him that everything he held dear has been destroyed.” The words kept pouring from me, I had kept this pent up for a very long time. And now that it had finally broken through to the surface, it wasn’t simply going to stop.

“Orren was only five, _five!_ His mother died protecting him. And I was in the Goddamn room just across the Goddamn hall! And do you know what I was doing? Fucking Bann Loren’s son, who is dead too because of that, while Howe‘s men slaughtered Oren and Oriana right across the hall! I didn’t protect them when I should have, I promised Fergus… I promised… I failed my family in the worst way possible.”  
“No, no you couldn’t have known-” Alistair started, but I interrupted him.  
“I couldn’t have known? Have I told you Howe was worried that Duncan had come to Highever and came up with some lame excuse about not being prepared for such a meeting? That something felt off about the whole delay? Did I tell you I had offended Howe by refusing his son’s hand in marriage, denying him the joining of our bloodlines? That he has been after my father’s seat as Teyrn from the _moment_ he took it over from my grandfather? I should have _seen_ it! Of all people! I should have fought harder to convince my father and Fergus to wait, so our armies still would have been there! Instead I watched our armies leave, while providing Howe with a reason and an opportunity!”

“No. _Howe_ provided Howe with a reason and an opportunity. All _you_ did was living your life,” Alistair said sternly, “how many men have asked for your hand? And why would Howe’s son be any different from all those others? I don’t know of any other nobles destroying your entire family because of that. Howe planned his betrayal, he knew what he was going to do long before he came to Highever. The opportunity arose when the King called for every noble to send their armies to Ostagar. You had no control over these things, so stop talking like it was all _your_ fault. It wasn’t.”

I looked at Alistair with wide eyes, had he just scolded me? I was at loss for a response. The truth was that I _wanted_ to believe what he said, but I was afraid to admit it. The feeling of guilt wouldn’t let me. To believe I couldn’t have done anything felt like a betrayal to my family. Alistair’s expression turned softer.

“It’s ok to grief, but you have to stop believing it was your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself, you can’t heal if you don’t. Howe did this, and you’re going to kill him for it. Because you know _he_ is responsible. _He_ killed your family, not you. The more you blame yourself, the more you justify him.” Alistair kissed my forehead, “it’s ok to be glad that you’re alive. Make it worth something more than vengeance, it’s what they would have wanted.” I sighed and pressed my face into the crook of his neck.

I actually felt somewhat relieved, he reminded me that being alive _was_ worth more than vengeance. I had him.

“You know, I can’t help but think they would have _really_ liked you,” I whispered.  
“Of course they would have, I’m adorable,” Alistair replied, causing me to giggle.

“I wonder sometimes, what it would have been like. To be part of your family,” he whispered.  
“You _are_ part of my family. You’re what makes it worth more than vengeance,” I answered. I felt him tighten his arms around me and his heart beat faster.  
“I love you, more than I know how to tell you,” he whispered.  
“You don’t need to,” I whispered and moved to kiss him, “family doesn’t need to hear it to know.”  
“But family still likes hearing it, right?” he replied innocently, I chuckled.  
“I love you too,” and kissed him again. I kept repeating the words in between kisses until his grin made it impossible for him to press his lips against mine. We grinned stupidly at each other for a moment before I spoke again.

“Thank you.”  
“For being adorable? For loving you? Wanting to be your family? The awesome sex?” he replied teasingly.  
“For being you,” I chuckled, “being there for me like this. And all those other things, of course.” I added the last bit with a lopsided grin.  
“Any time,” he replied, “should we go take up our watch? We’re awake anyway.”

We did, relieving Morrigan, Sten, and Leliana. Shale was keeping watch too of course, she always was. I must say, it’s a luxury to have someone who is never at risk of falling asleep to stand watch in the night. Since Shale joined us, she had taken it upon herself to watch over us squishy, flesh creatures. She complained a lot, of course, but she was doing it because she cared.

“I heard it crying earlier, is it alright?” Shale asked in her deep voice.  
“Yeah, thanks. Alistair gave me comfort,” I replied, smiling at her.  
“I did hear it talking a lot, as it always does,” Shale said with a sideways look at Alistair, who raised an eyebrow.  
“You were listening?” he asked.  
“Don’t I always? How else does it expect me to keep watch?” Shale retorted.  
“You could try watching,” Alistair said with a shrug.  
“I do that too,” Shale said dryly.  
“Wow. I’m not actually sure if I’m ok with that either,” he sighed.  
“If it is worried I enjoy listening to its sex play, I do not,” Shale said, “I try blocking it out, but it is very noisy. The thought of watching it would make me vomit if I could.”  
“Gee, thanks. Can we go back to keeping watch?” Alistair replied sourly. I chuckled and put some wood on the fire before I settled against Alistair under a blanket.

The night was uneventful, just as I liked it. Well, just as anyone liked it. Assuming an eventful night means many unpleasant things occur, as opposed to the possibly pleasant ones. A few of which, I may have had in mind under that blanket. But I kept my hands above the covers like a good girl, and behaved. So did Alistair. Shale was always watching, and listening, apparently. Though that didn’t stop me from shamelessly cuddling him, I was feeling a little needy. Alistair didn’t mind. Neither did Asher, who snuggled up beside us.

I decided to take another few hours of sleep when it was time for Zevran, Wynne, and Oghren to take over. Normally I wouldn’t do that, as it usually left me feeling hung over rather than well rested. But I was feeling exceptionally tired after my emotional breakdown, and I figured it couldn’t get much worse. I slept until Alistair woke me for breakfast. And as predicted, I felt somewhat hung over.

I sat cross-legged by the fire, nursing a cup of tea Wynne had made me. My eyes felt puffy and my hair was a tangled mess. I barely listened to the ongoing conversation, I was too busy staring into the fire and not falling asleep again. My eyelids felt so heavy I had to make a constant effort to keep them up. It resulted in tunnel vision, focussed on the glowing embers at the bottom of the fire pit. I liked the colour, it was the colour of heat.

“-really is a little fae around the edges.” Alistair’s voice, he was looking at me.  
“What?” I croaked, startled out of my revelry.  
“I said, you really are a little fae around the edges,” Alistair clarified.  
“Oh,” I said, “why?” Alistair chuckled.  
“Because… you know…”  
“Because you look kind of cute, all sleepy and dreamy like that,” Leliana came to his rescue.  
“Yes! That, and your uncle said something around those lines at Redcliffe,” he added.  
“Uh-huh,” I replied and looked down into my mug at the steaming contents. My mind was up and running for about thirty percent, it was going to be a while before I was capable of conversation.

 _Maker,_ I was tired. The sleep deprivation was finally starting to take a toll, I figured. My body felt heavy with sleep, and my mind felt clouded with mist. I had trouble remembering things. Not the important bits like who I was and what I was doing. But small things like putting my socks on before pulling my boots on, or things that had been said a minute ago. The exhaustion was causing my short-term memory to fuck up a little. I settled into it, it was no use fighting it anyway.

By the time we packed up our camp, I was starting to feel like myself again. Enough to shoot down Zevran’s attempts at flirting.

“Come now, Fela, a woman as beautiful as you deserves to hear it. In Antiva, men would be tripping over each other to pay you compliments,” he purred with a smile.  
“Doesn’t that annoy them?” I said flatly.  
“Why would it? Credit must be given where credit is due. And your… assets,” he gestured at my chest, “demand it.”  
“My ‘assets’ don’t demand shit. Well, maybe a good breastband,” I mumbled.  
“See, your assets must be taken care of. Why don’t you let me see to your comforts for a bit, hmm?” Zevran continued.  
“Oh, fine. What the hell,” I said and started to unbuckle a clasp on my armor. Zevran froze.

“Wait, what? really?” he said with wide eyes.  
“No.” I redid the buckle and continued walking.  
“But your bluff has been called,” I said over my shoulder.

Zevran laughed and caught up with me.  
“Well played. I wasn’t expecting that after structurally being turned down.”  
“And yet you persist. One would almost think you enjoy being shot down,” I remarked.  
“I consider it a challenge. One of these days I will bring a blush to those rosy cheeks,” he replied.  
“I can make _your_ cheeks rosy with two well placed slaps,” I retorted, “but I think you might like that.”  
“Ooh, dear Fela, you know me so well. Why, a good spanking might be well and appropriate. It certainly sounded like you enjoyed it, you’d be surprised how far that sound carries,” he said with a far too knowing grin.  
“Congratulations on your skill in eavesdropping and sexual innuendo,” I said flatly.  
“Were you giving? Or receiving?” Zevran continued. I shook my head and kept walking.  
“You were receiving weren’t you? Those little cries sounded a bit too feminine to come from Alistair’s mouth,” he pressed on.  
“Perhaps I should also congratulate you on your deductive skills,” I replied.  
“How graceful of you,” he said.  
“Thanks,” I replied. He would just enjoy it if I squirmed or denied it, so I did neither of those things. It was a dance of sorts, he’d flirt outrageously and I’d refuse to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable. Every time I passed the test, I was rewarded with a glimpse of the real Zevran. He sighed.

“How I envy you.”  
“You want a spanking from Alistair, do you?” I asked with a mischievous grin.  
“The Templar, disciplining the naughty elven rogue? Sounds good, doesn’t it?” he replied with an equally mischievous grin, “or do you think the Templar might be interested in receiving discipline?” I laughed.  
“You are absolutely terrible, you know that?” I snickered.  
“Yes, I am,” he said with a chuckle.

“Things appear to be well between the two of you,” he continued. I smiled and nodded.  
“They are.”  
“Good. It’s important to treasure these things, times being what they are,” Zevran replied. I gave him a sideways look.  
“You sound like Wynne.”  
“Well in that case, Wynne is right. In her grandmotherly way. I myself, say this in a more, best friend kind of way,” he answered.  
“You’re sweet,” I said and put a hand on his shoulder, “you know, I’ve been thinking. About what we’ll be doing after the Blight. You know, if there is an after.”  
“After the Blight? Well, you’ll be ruling a country I assume,” he answered.  
“That’s the plan, yes. But what about you?” I asked.  
“I haven’t really thought about it…” he said pensively.

“Look, I know you swore that oath to me, and I’m grateful. But, I consider you a true friend, and I trust you. I want you to know, I don’t feel like that oath matters anymore. You’re here because you want to be, I’m glad to have you, and I would miss you if you left. And, well, I would like it if you stayed with us. If that’s what you want, I would understand if you would want to go home,” I explained. Zevran smiled, a true smile, the kind he wore only rarely.  
“My friend, even if I could go home, I’d rather be at your side. Your King might have need of my services, no?” he winked and gave me a hug. A chaste one, so I hugged him back.  
“Thank you, Zev. There will always be a place for you by my side.”

We continued out path through the forest. To Oghren’s delight, Leliana managed to shoot a hare. One wouldn’t feed all of us. Even without Alistair’s and my appetites. So he was overjoyed when Zevran shot a pheasant. Some of us had picked vegetables and herbs we came across too. So by late afternoon we were looking forward to dinner. We were in the middle of deciding what to do with the hare and the pheasant when Morrigan appeared.

“Dinner will have to wait,” she said, “I’ve found them.” I ran up to Morrigan and almost hugged her, but she would probably hate that so I gave her a wide smile instead.  
“How far?” I asked.  
“We can be there before nightfall,” she replied, “but all is not well, they have suffered werewolf attacks. So they’ll be on high alert.” I nodded.  
“Alright, thank you.” I turned.

“Zevran! How would you feel about being our excuse-elf?” He let out a confused chuckle.  
“Your what?”  
“Excuse-elf. It’s a little racist, I know, but I’m assuming they will be less likely to attack if they see another elf in our company. I don’t know how they’ll respond to a golem, Qunari, or a dwarf. But I do know we humans fucked the elves over big time, I don’t expect them to welcome Shemlen with open arms,” I explained.

“To welcome what?” Oghren asked.  
“Shemlen, it’s the word they use for humans. I think it translates to quickling or something. You’re Durgen’len, which means child of the Stone. So don’t be surprised if anyone calls you that,” I explained.  
“Child of the Stone,” Oghren mused, “I like that. I like, what was it? Durgelen?”  
“Durgen’len,” I repeated.  
“Right! Durgen’len! I am Durgen’len!” he bellowed.  
“Good for you,” Zevran said and smacked Oghren’s back, “as for the matter of playing the excuse-elf, I am in. Should I also do the talking?” he asked with a wink, “I can be very charming.” I chuckled.  
“Oh, I know. But maybe I should take lead on this.”  
“At least I get to be your arm candy,” he grinned and gestured for Morrigan to lead the way.

We were making our way through some nasty prickly bushes when we heard growling.

“Shit,” I hissed, “shit, shit, shit, _shit!”_

While leather armor offered decent protection, that didn’t mean I could afford to barrel through like Sten, Oghren, and Alistair could. And Shale of course. It was even worse for Morrigan and Wynne. Wynne wore her mage’s robes. And Morrigan was still clad in her own revealing ensemble. Werewolves, on the other hand, had no trouble crashing through the thorny shrubbery. Their thick fur protected them.

I used my rapiers to slice at the branches around me, and followed my metal clad companion’s tracks as best I could. I screamed as I was tackled to the ground by one of the massive beasts and I felt thorns pierce my armor and flesh. I felt one of my blades was embedded in the werewolf's gut as I struggled against the beast, I twisted it. Eliciting agonised howling from the werewolf as it struggled to get up and lift itself off my blade, making the wound worse. I felt claws shredding at my side and wailed. But at least there were no jaws locked around my neck.

I was saved by Shale, she pulled the werewolf off me and flung it against a tree. She punched another in the snout, breaking it with a magnificent crack, and started wrestling the next, giving Oghren time to pull me to my feet. I clutched my wounded side and leaned on him, the height difference actually made it a little easier for him to help me limp away. I could feel Wynne’s touch as she started healing me. Oghren set me down against a tree.  
“Stay here!” he roared and got back into the fight. Asher stood in front of me protectively while I was busy not bleeding out. Again.

 _Alistair is going to bug me about metal plating again,_ I thought to myself as I tried to put pressure on the wounds with my hands. The blood made everything slippery, so I settled for pressing my ruined armor closer to my body. Hoping it would keep everything pressed together. My shoulder and hip burned when I moved and put pressure on the more lethal wounds, Wynne would have to pull the thorns from my flesh later.

Suddenly, arrows were flying everywhere, too many to only have been fired by Leliana. And I heard more voices shouting than my companions could account for.

 _Let’s hope they are coming to help, rather than kill us off after the werewolves are dealt with,_ I thought to myself. I watched the werewolves go down and flee. And, as I’d feared, the arrows were trained on us next. Voices warned us to stop moving and drop our weapons. Alistair called for our companions to do as they were asked and watched as a group of Dalish elves emerged from the trees.

“What are you doing in our forest, _Shem?”_ a young man with an intricate tattoo on his face asked menacingly.  
“Looking for the Dalish, actually. I’m a Grey Warden,” he said quickly, “so is my wounded companion,” he continued gesturing towards me. The young man stared at Alistair with icy grey eyes, giving no indication that he was allowing anyone to treat my wounds.  
“She needs help,” he pressed, “we’re not here to cause problems. Let our healer see to her, then we can explain why we are here.”  
“You think I’m a fool? You can explain right now, what you are doing here. _Then,_ you can see to your friend, I suggest you make it quick,” the elf replied. Alistair bit back his anger.  
“We’re Grey Wardens, Ferelden is suffering a Blight. We need to speak to your Keeper about this,” he said in a hard, impatient tone.  
“You have told me nothing I don’t already know,” the elf said with narrowed eyes. Alistair’s eyes turned hard.  
“My friend, one of the _only_ _two_ Grey Wardens left in Ferelden is bleeding out. I don’t care what you think you know, our business is with your Keeper,” Alistair said decisively, not a hint of doubt in his voice. He turned away towards Wynne.  
“Wynne, please see to Fela,” he asked politely and turned back to the elf staring him down. Wynne showed her palms, and calmly walked towards me.

“Did you get bitten?” she whispered. I shook my head.  
“Claws.” I winched and groaned as she started to peel my armor away and tore my already ruined blouse.

“You think we’d let you Shemlen into our camp?” the elf hissed at Alistair, though he was starting to crack around the edges. The fact that Wynne had not been shot for following Alistair’s command, meant that Alistair had called a bluff. And the elf wasn’t liking it.  
“You? No. But I don’t think it’s up to you, now is it? You can send someone ahead with a message for your Keeper if you like. But if I am to be refused, it will not be by you,” Alistair said calmly.  
“You have led these werewolves to our camp!” the elf snapped.  
“No, no, my friend. The werewolves got themselves to your camp. A little birdy told me you’ve been having werewolf problems for some time now,” Zevran said with a charming smile. Morrigan sighed and rolled her eyes at the comment.

“My friend here is just concerned for the woman he loves. Perhaps if you lower that bow, you could convince him to help you out with your werewolf problem, he’s not a bad sort,” Zevran continued, “your clan has suffered many attacks, yes?” The elf studied Zevran with a scrutinising eye.  
“How do you know about the attacks?” he demanded.  
“A little birdy, I told you. I wasn’t being metaphorical,” he said and nodded towards Morrigan. Morrigan stared daggers at the elf when he gave her the same scrutinising look.  
“You’ve been spying on us?” he demanded from her.  
“No, I’ve been searching for you. And all those cots with the sick and dying are hard to miss. They are infected, are they not? I know the disease when I see it,” she replied.  
“How did you come by this knowledge?” he spat.  
“Asha’bellanar,” she replied. The elf lowered his bow as his eyes went wide.

“You…” he stammered.  
“It was Asha’bellanar who plucked these two Wardens from the battlefield of Ostagar. Her intend for them is that they see to it your people honour the treaty with the Grey Wardens made so long ago,” Morrigan continued, “would you go against her wishes?”  
“You… you’re one of her daughters then?” he asked.  
“Unfortunately,” Morrigan said with a shrug.  
“Ir abelas,” the elf said quietly and motioned for a young man, hardly more than a boy, to send him ahead to the Keeper.

The elf then turned back to Alistair.  
“When your companion is ready to move, I will take you to our Keeper. But I warn you, Shem, make no trouble. Remember our arrows are still trained on you.” Alistair gave a nod and turned to Morrigan.  
“Thank you,” he said stiffly. She scoffed and made a dismissive gesture.  
“You too, Zev, thank you.” With that he made his way over to Wynne and me. She had me out of my armor and blouse, save for my breastband, I was naked from the waist up. Wynne had stopped the bleeding and was now pulling thorns out of my shoulder. If she healed me now, the wounds would heal around the thorns, forcing her to cut me open again to get them out. So this order of proceedings made the most sense.

“Are you ok?” he asked as he kneeled beside me and took one of my hands in his.  
“Ow!” Wynne pulled another thorn, “yeah, yeah, I’m fine. See? no bites. Ow!” I replied and gestured at myself with my free hand as Wynne pulled another thorn.  
“Oh, shush,” Wynne said as she worked, “this will go a lot faster if you stay still.” I obeyed.

“I was watching you,” I said with a small grin, “you were very… commanding.”  
“Well, you are still wounded pretty badly. He was ready to let you bleed out, you know I can’t let that happen,” he said with a smile and kissed my forehead.  
“It suits you,” I replied, “standing your ground and not backing down. I like it.” Alistair gave me a sinful smile, but before he could reply, Wynne cut in.

“Save it for the bedroom,” she said, “Fela, dear, I’m going to have to see to your hip now.”  
“And that means the pants come off,” I said with a slight frown. She nodded.  
“We should really get this over with now, even if we lack privacy.” I sighed.  
“Alright then,” and resigned myself to being nearly naked in front of my companions, and a group of strangers. My companions, I didn’t mind so much. But the Dalish elves giving us hard stares made me uncomfortable.

My temper flared when I caught the grey eyed elf ogling me.  
“Like what you see!?” I snapped at him, “you like watching nearly naked, bloodied Shems!?” It was the elf that had spoken to Alistair and refused to let Wynne treat my wounds. Until Alistair drew the line, that is. Naturally, I felt very offended that the man who would have let me bleed out a few moments ago was now gazing at my boobs.  
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffed, but the redness of his ears betrayed him.  
“Oh right, because my tits might attack, rather than the mage and Templar at my side!” I sneered. As one, my other companions formed a wall in front of Wynne, Alistair, and me, glaring at the peeping elf. I couldn’t see their faces, but if their postures were any indication, he was lucky he hadn’t been crushed, stabbed, shot, incinerated, and beheaded on the spot.

“Is this distasteful creature bothering it? Shall I crush its tiny head?” Shale offered. I thought about it for a moment, decided there was no way we could get away with that _and_ get the Dalish support, and sighed.  
“Nah, but thank you, Shale,” I replied. I allowed myself a little smile at their protectiveness.

“Oi, over here you pervert,” Oghren groused, the elf turned his gaze from Shale, to him. “I catch you staring at my girl again, and I’ll turn you into one. Understand?” Oghren said patting his double-sided battle-axe. Zevran leaned towards him.  
“Your girl?” he asked.  
“Coulda been my daughter, I’m older than you think, mate. And I promised Magnus I’d watch over her,” Oghren replied.  
“As did I,” Sten said, crossing his arms. Zevran laughed.  
“Me too! Crazy old bear sure has been busy, hasn’t he?”

“You all hold this Shem in that high regard?” the elf asked scathingly.  
“So would you, if you knew her,” Morrigan added icily.  
“She gave me my freedom from my masters in Antiva,” Zevran began, “gave this one his life and pride back,” he continued while pointing at Oghren, “saved him from dying in a cage, left for the darkspawn, and searched across Ferelden to find his sword for him,” he pointed at Sten, “gave her freedom too, after reawakening her from a thirty year slumber and helped her reclaim her past in the Deep Roads,” pointing at Shale, “faced Asha’bellanar on behalf of this one, granting her freedom, and lived,” pointing at Morrigan, “and keeps this one safe from assassins until she can take care of the one who sends them,” pointing at Leliana, “and she is here because she is doing everything in her power to gather an army and stop the Blight, saving and helping people wherever she can,” he finished.

“She may be just a Shem to you, but she’s the most important person in Thedas to us. I would appreciate it if you showed some respect.” I was blushing deeply behind my companion’s backs, but only Wynne and Alistair could see.  
“Ir abelas, I apologise,” the elf said quietly. I couldn’t see him, but he sounded sincere.

Wynne plucked the last of the thorns out and handed me a healing potion. The potion, combined with her healing magic, sealed up the wounds. I could feel my flesh knitting together as she worked, the feeling still made me shiver. It didn’t fully heal the wounds on my side, so she wrapped me up in a bandage after stitching me back together and applying a healing poultice. Alistair retrieved a fresh blouse from my pack as I put my pants back on. Wynne rinsed her hands with water from a canteen and then offered it to me. As I was still very bloody. I put on the blouse, pulled on my boots, and gathered my weapons.

“I’m ready,” I said, and the wall of bodies split in the middle. The elf nodded and took us to the Dalish camp to finally speak to the Keeper.


	42. Zathrian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the group ventures into the heart of the forest, they discover the truth about the werewolf curse.

“Andaran atish’an,” a bald robed man spoke as he saw us approaching, “you must be the Grey Wardens Tannivh told me about.”  
“Well met,” Alistair replied and extended his hand, “Alistair, this is Fela.” The Keeper shook it tentatively.  
“Oh, I see you have a hound with you,” he said disdainfully.  
“My Mabari, Asher, and very well behaved I assure you,” I said politely and gave Asher a meaningful look. He sat down obediently, looking up at his mistress with big round puppy eyes.

Of course I would have liked to say something like, ‘well fuck you too, you bald fuck!’ But I didn’t, this situation called for a more delicate hand.

“As I expect him to be,” the Keeper said coldly, “we’ve had enough of hounds here.” Dick. “I am Zathrian, Keeper of this clan,” he announced, “if you are here about the treaty, I’m afraid we are in no condition to uphold our end.”  
“Courtesy of the werewolves, I’m sure,” I said and flashed a charming smile, “we would gladly offer our aid, if we can help in any way.”

Actually, no, we really wouldn’t. Zathrian was an absolute tit, and normally I would have told him that. But I could already tell Zathrian would make the demand, from what I had seen, he spoke the truth when he said they were in no condition to uphold their end of the treaty. Zathrian may be an ass, but there were people here who had done nothing wrong to me too. Plus, if being rude was enough to make me leave them to their fates and forego their army, I wouldn’t have come this far.

Zathrian studied Alistair, probably gauging how much he could ask of us without being refused.  
“You are aware of our problem with the werewolves,” he said, eyeing Alistair, completely ignoring me.  
“With so many of us sick, we cannot move, let alone aid you in stopping the Blight. There is no cure for the sickness that has brought my clan to this sorry state. However, there is a way to break the curse, thus healing any that have not yet turned. We do not have the forces to spare to set on this quest ourselves. Not anymore, we’ve tried but our attempts were unsuccessful,” Zathrian began.  
“What was it exactly that you were attempting?” Alistair asked.  
“The curse originates from a single source. Through that source, I can perform a ritual that will end the curse. I need the heart of the first, Witherfang,” Zathrian replied.  
“Sounds like blood magic,” Alistair said with a glance towards me. His inner-Templar was having a fit. I looked at him with a broad smile, hoping he would see through it.  
“I suspect such a curse can only be born from blood magic,” I said, “it makes sense that it would require blood magic to end it. But does it really make a difference if it puts an end to these people’s suffering?” I gestured around at numerous sickly elves.

Zathrian paled a bit, most humans were incredibly suspicious of magic, hence our tendency to lock mages up in a tower with cranky prison guards and executioners. For the Dalish elves, these matters were entirely different. It was possible he feared it would scare us off. It was also possible he paled for a different reason. “

I realise it is a grisly task, but I assure you, the ritual will not cause any harm. It will merely lift the curse and save my people,” Zathrian said in his salving, and a little condescending, tone. He was holding something back, but I had no way of knowing what that was.

“Do you know where we might find Witherfang?” I asked after a brief stare at Alistair.  
“He lives in the heart of the forest, I can mark the area on your map, but it won’t be easy to find your way in. The forest has a mind of its own there,” Zathrian replied, with a short glance in my direction. Alistair handed him the map and he raised an eyebrow at our notes from our search. He marked an area we had already passed through, an area where the first werewolf attack had happened.  
“You had your search carefully planned out,” Zathrian remarked, glancing over the map.  
“That’s mostly Fela,” Alistair said, as he took the map back from Zathrian, “the horde draws closer, and we couldn’t afford to wander aimlessly.”  
“Truly,” Zathrian said and gave me a look that felt like I was prey being seized up by a predator. There was something very, _very,_ wrong about this man.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am needed. Speak to my first, Lanaya, if you need anything else.” He spun on his heel, and left. We shared a look, one that said we would talk about this later. In private. We explored the camp for a bit, and I was relieved to find an armorer. He was yelling at a younger man, who I guessed was his apprentice. I felt sorry for the boy, his master was cruel in his words, telling him how much of a failure he was.

I was a little surprised when Alistair stepped in though, setting the man straight and demanding he apologise to his apprentice. Which he did. I looked at him with a proud smile, _this_ man was who was hiding underneath the goofy attitude. He naturally demanded respect and he treated others with the same respect they showed him, this was the man that could lead a country. It had me biting my lower lip and made my knees a little weak, this was also the man who had taken me so forcefully that night. He grinned when he noticed me staring at him, making me blush.

“So, is there anything I can help you with today?” the armorer asked, startling me out of my revelry.  
“Yes, in fact, there is.” I showed him my shredded armor.  
“Oh my,” he said, “I do hope you weren’t wearing it when this happened, my Lady.”  
“I was lucky to have a skilled healer with me,” I said with a reassuring smile. “What can you do on short notice?” I asked. He looked up from my armor to study my face.  
“So you’ll be going into the forest, to find Witherfang?” he asked. I nodded.  
“First light, a werewolf did that, and I’ll be going after another one tomorrow.” I gave him a meaningful look, and he sighed.  
“I cannot repair this for you on such short notice. But I can offer you an ironbark replacement,” he said.

My eyes went wide, ironbark was incredibly valuable to someone like me. It was light, but hard as steel. It would be _just_ what I needed to stop getting cut up and get Alistair off my back about metal plating. But the truly amazing thing was, the Dalish were very protective of their ironbark. They normally refused to trade with outsiders over it, it was like a treasure they kept among themselves.

“I would be honoured,” I said astounded. The man smiled at me.  
“Well, you’re going through an awful lot of trouble for my clan, and I wish to see you succeed. You’re alright, for Shems.”  
“Ma Serannas, I will not forget this. How much would you like for it?” I asked. He shook his head, “this one,” he started gathering up pieces of armor.  
“You can have on loan. But, I would like to take your measurements to make one that fits properly. I consider it a gift, Grey Warden, for what you are willing to do for my people. I know the Blight is bigger than us, but you are still going out of your way to help. Your kindness shows that the hostility between our peoples is sometimes unjustified. It’s nice to be reminded sometimes.” I gave him a slight bow.  
“Truly, is there nothing I can do in return? As a way of saying thank you?” He smiled again.  
“You’re going after Witherfang for us, that’s more than enough. But if it pleases you, you could keep an eye out for more ironbark. Keeper Zathrian has forbidden us to go into the forest until the werewolves are dealt with. If the Dalish are to stand with you against the Blight, you’ll need us properly outfitted.” I nodded.

“Show me what it looks like.”

He went on to show me a piece of unworked ironbark, and show me how I could recognise it. He took my measurements next, making some notes about the chest piece and how to make sure it offered support for my breasts. He also carefully measured my hips and ass, so the leggings would actually fit my figure, rather than pinch in some places and sag in others. The Dalish were a lot more practical about that, their women were commonly hunters or fighters. Their roles didn’t really depend on gender, but on what talents a person possessed. Sure, there were more male fighters than female ones. But they can’t help their biological advantages, now can they? Still, women were fairly common among their fighter’s ranks. And about equal to the men in numbers when it came to the hunters.

They also had a very different take on nudity and physical contact, they weren’t finicky about it, as Zevran would say. So their armorers were used to taking curves into account. Much to my delight, Alistair looked a little annoyed went the armorer took _those_ measurements. But I was thankful that the man did. While I had a petite figure compared to most humans, I was still big compared to the average elven woman. 

We wandered around some more, talking to two young lovers, helping calm down a Halla, promising a man we would look for his wife in the forest, and getting sassed by a storyteller. At the end of the day, we returned to our own camp, which we had set up at the edge of the Dalish camp. While some were friendly, there were too many of them hostile towards us for my comfort.

Zevran and Oghren had been preparing roasted pheasant, and the two made very good cooks. So we contently spend a quiet evening in the relative safety of the Dalish camp. They kept a perimeter, and so we didn’t need to worry about being attacked without warning. Shale still kept watch of course, as she always did. We all got some much needed rest, a break from constantly being on high alert. After thoroughly thanking Oghren and Zevran for their cooking, Alistair and I retreated to our tent early.

We sat cross-legged facing toward each other on the bedroll.

“So is Zathrian full of shit, or what?” Alistair asked quietly. We didn’t want anyone listening in of this particular conversation.  
“Something is wrong, very wrong. But I can’t tell what it is, he’s holding it back,” I whispered.  
“How bad is it?” Alistair asked.  
“Honestly, I can’t tell. He seems devoid of any human emotion, his body language is all wrong, it doesn’t correspond with what he says and does,” I played with my hair absently as I thought back to the brief meeting with Zathrian. I had the distinct feeling he shouldn’t be here. Not that he was a demon or anything, he just… didn’t belong, somehow. Like he was misplaced.

“I don’t know what any of it means, but I think he spoke the truth when he said the Dalish are in no condition to uphold their end of the treaty. So if we want them to stand with us, we’d better do something about that curse,” I decided. Alistair nodded.  
“He gave me the creeps. Why do you suppose he wouldn’t look at you?”  
“I don’t know, just that he avoided looking at me,” I replied.  
“Yes,” Alistair said, “avoid is the right word for what he was doing. He was also very eager to leave.”  
“You’d almost think he knew some things about me that he shouldn’t,” I mused.

Could that be possible? My companions were aware I was particularly perceptive and had a knack for reading people, but only Alistair and Morrigan were aware it was something more than a knack. Theoretically, she could have informed Zathrian before she came to find us, but the witch had no reason to do something like that. Neither did she harbour the desire. Plus, if she had been conspiring with Zathrian to lead us into some kind of trap, she would have gone out of her way to make Alistair’s life harder. So why Zathrian’s distant attitude towards me and his relative well-mannered behaviour towards Alistair? No, Morrigan wouldn’t do something like that. She had some secret motive, _that_ I knew. But this wasn’t it, she wouldn’t betray me.

That meant that Zathrian had noticed something about me on his own, and he acted as if he considered it a possible threat. And so quickly too. I was intrigued, Zathrian wasn’t like other people. Not in the same way that Flemeth had been, but some aspects seemed similar. What was it they called her, Asha’bellanar? They had something in common, but it was difficult to put my finger on it. It was in their gaze, the way they seemed to perceive the world around them. What was it that they saw that we didn’t? Had Flemeth seen the same thing he did when she gazed into me? But she had seemed fascinated, whereas he seemed to feel threatened.

“So we’re going after Witherfang,” Alistair concluded.  
“For now, but we can’t search for that thing forever,” I replied.  
“Five days?” he offered, knowing exactly what I was saying.  
“Five days sounds good, then we’ll re-evaluate,” I replied.

I laid back on the bedroll, arms outstretched.

“Alistair?”  
“Hmm?”  
“What do you know about elven magic?”  
“Not much, but I do know that it’s more of a cultural difference than anything else,” he replied.  
“Is that why city elves get dragged to the Circle Tower but the Chantry leave the Dalish alone?”  
“No, I think that is mostly a legal matter. After brokering a peace between our races and all the trouble we went through, the Chantry can’t just send Templars to arrest Dalish mages anymore. It would cause riots and bring us right back to killing each other,” he explained.  
“Ok, so it’s twofold, legal and cultural. But why is the Chantry not throwing a fit? I can’t imagine the Divine being happy with Dalish mages running around Thedas. ‘all magic is meant to serve man! Not to rule over him!’” I added in a mocking imitation of the Revered Mother at _any_ Chantry.  
“That’s where the cultural difference comes in,” Alistair explained, “the Dalish have their own nationality, and they usually consider elves that don’t live with the clan to be outsiders. Anyone living outside the clan, isn’t Dalish. But, they are known to sometimes take in outsiders, it’s not common practice however. So among the elves, we have two distinguished groups, the Dalish, and the non-Dalish. Their history has mostly been wiped out by the humans, so not much of their culture is left. What cultural traditions they still have, however, they are very protective of. It’s the last link to their ancestors. Some of it is elven magic that isn’t taught at the Tower. But of course, what is taught at the Tower has been reviewed and selected by the Chantry, so it’s merely a selection the Chantry considers safe, to serve mankind.”

“So, it’s entirely possible that Zathrian possesses magic that is unknown to us and the Chantry. Like how Morrigan is a shape-changer but that is not taught at the Tower, it’s a kind of magic that still remains out of the Chantry’s reach,” I mused.  
“It’s possible, likely, even. Magic is magic, but the different schools of magic make all the difference. Creation, spirit-magic, primal magic, entropy, these are taught at the Circle, but many more exist. Blood magic is a well-known school of magic that is forbidden and isn’t taught at the Circle. And we both know why that is. Shape-changers like Morrigan are in a kind of grey area. Changing shape doesn’t seem evil to me, but the Chantry has a different take on that. Who knows what magic Zathrian might possesses, there is so much we don’t know that it could be anything.”  
“Have the Dalish been known to use blood magic? I mean, they might not frown upon it as we ‘devout Andrastians’ do,” I added the last bit with a lop-sided grin. Neither of us were good Chantry material, let alone devout Andrastians. Alistair thought for a moment.  
“Not that I know of. He might resort to it if he has no other choice and knows how. But that has little to do with being Dalish. Mages don’t tend to resort to blood magic unless they are cornered somehow. Or mad with power.” I sighed, and stared up at the roof of the tent.  
“I don’t know if he’s hungry for power, but he seems desperate alright…” I sat back up, “I see only one way forward, we find Witherfang.”  
“And then?”  
“We’ll see,” I said with a shrug.

“What do we do if we catch him using blood magic?” Alistair asked.  
“Depends on what he’s doing with it, but if he’s hostile, we kill him,” I said matter-of-factly.  
“You don’t seem worried by that…” he said and eyed me curiously.  
“Right now, Zathrian needs us, he won’t risk anything yet. If and when that changes, we might have to make the decision to kill him. I’m prepared to go pretty far to save an entire clan from lycanthropy. If it’s helpful, I’m willing to let Zathrian use blood magic. I’ll even kill Witherfang for it, as things stand. But these things never go as we expect them to, there is always another secret. We treat Zathrian as we would any hostile if and when he becomes one. Until then, we work with him,” I explained.

“Besides, this is all assuming he does know blood magic and is prepared to use it. He might just be a creep, nothing more. We’ll know when we see it,” I added and started undressing.

“I don’t trust him,” Alistair said as I was busy pulling my boots off.  
“I know, neither do I,” I replied and moved on to my pants, “but we’ll have to go along with it for now, we can’t go and interrogate this clan’s Keeper, let alone kill him for being creepy and suspicious.”  
“Maybe we could… I don’t know, snoop around a bit?” he opted.  
“Alistair,” I said with a sharp look, “we’re here because we need troops. Not to hunt blood mages.” He glared at me.  
“And how do you know I want to investigate if he’s a blood mage?” I shrugged and started unbuttoning my blouse.  
“Why else would you endanger the treaty we came here for? Because that’s what you’re doing if you intend to play bard tonight. You’re not one to snoop around _every_ douchebag’s belongings, neither would you risk gaining the Dalish troops for something you thought was unimportant. In fact, it would have to be _very_ important for you to suggest such a thing. Did I get any of that right?” I looked at him challengingly.

“Would you have assumed differently if I had been Zevran?” he bit back. I raised an eyebrow.  
“Of course, because I would assume he is looking for something to _steal_. Not you, you’re sensible.” I kept my tone light, dismissive, and a little bit sarcastic, it was a petty way to enrage him. I admit it, but while I acted nonchalant, I was angry with him.

“Fela, listen to yourself, you suspect this man is a blood mage that is sending us on a dangerous path for his own purposes. And you want to go along with it!?” he kept his voice low but the angry exclamation was clear in his tone.  
“No. _You_ listen to yourself! Other than being rude, he hasn’t done anything to us. He has given me no inclination that he intends to harm us either. Meanwhile his clan is dying from a disease brought on by a curse! So I don’t exactly expect him to be on his best behaviour. You’re being paranoid,” I retorted and shrugged my blouse off my shoulders.  
“You can be awfully naïve sometimes,” he sneered.  
“You think an evil blood mage would be loved by his people like this? Do you think he would care enough to accept outside help? He cares, _that_ is the only thing I’m sure he was sincere about. He is the leader of this clan, they look to him for guidance. What do you suppose would happen if we went after their Keeper without even _trying_ to honour his request for help? On their behalf! Because that’s what it would look like to them!” I gestured in the direction of the Dalish camp angrily.

“This isn’t a battle where it’s a matter of kill or get killed by the evil blood mage. We’re playing a different game here, so reel in your inner-Templar and think about what you are saying!” I added as I tossed my breastband aside and moved to get under the covers.  
“You are assuming an awful lot of things,” he replied coldly.  
“Am I wrong?” I challenged, “why don’t you enlighten me then? With what purpose do you intend to ‘snoop around a bit’?”  
“I want to find out what he is holding back!” Alistair hissed in an effort to keep his volume down.  
“He is holding back many things I imagine. What will you look for? Because I can already tell you, you won’t find his diary detailing all his nefarious plans,” I sneered. Alistair was clenching his fists.  
“What do you expect will happen if you’re caught? Tents don’t muffle a lot of noise, I hear.” He didn’t reply as he glared at me. I glared right back until he sighed and deflated a bit.

“If he turns out to be a blood mage, and we have irrefutable proof that he’s using it to harm others, we’ll kill him,” I said in a softer tone, “but that doesn’t mean we need to go looking for it now. Not if it means risking the treaty.” He sighed again and started to undress. Without a word he got under the covers with me, though he kept a little distance. I wasn’t feeling particularly cuddly anyway.

We lay next to each other in silence, something that usually only happened when one of us was asleep. After a few minutes of this, after I had some time to cool down, I started to regret the fight. I was chewing on my words, trying to decide how to apologise when I felt Alistair’s hand on my waist. I rolled onto my back, and his hand slid to my belly.

“Sorry,” he whispered.  
“I’m sorry too,” I whispered back.  
“I haven’t even asked you how you are feeling,” he said while he stroked my belly through the bandages Wynne had applied.  
“I’m ok,” I reassured him, “though the stitches are itchy, as always.”  
“Listen, if I was being a blunt tool earlier, I’m sorry,” he said. I moved a little closer to him so he could take me in his arms.  
“I’m sorry for being an impatient bitch, I could have made my point in a more civilised manner,” I replied. He kissed the top of my head and sighed in relief.

“So, no angry sex then?” he joked. I giggled.  
“I would love to but Wynne forbade me from exerting myself.”  
“Since when is that stopping you?” he teased and nibbled on the edge of my ear. I sighed and smiled at his soft ministrations.  
“Since _angry_ sex is slightly violent. Sex in itself though, is not off the table.” He was kissing his way down my neck to my shoulder.  
“So you’re asking me to be gentle?” he whispered, his breath hot on my skin. I ran my hands through his hair and giggled.  
“Oh yes, please be gentle with me, Alistair,” I said teasingly. He looked up and frowned. “Or something sexier, your call,” I added with a grin. His frown turned into a sly grin.  
“And here I thought of you as a delicate flower,” he said with a naughty gleam in his eye, “tender and sweet.” It was my turn to frown.  
“You’re saying that to make me angry, aren’t you?”  
“Did it work?”  
“A little,” I admitted grudgingly. Before I could say anything else, he crashed his lips into mine and laced a hand in my hair. I moaned at the sudden rush of passion and returned the kiss eagerly.

He rolled me onto my good side and slowly pulled my panties down. The anticipation tied my abdomen in a knot and I shivered when he brushed his fingers across my buttocks where they met my legs. He kissed my hairline, just behind my ear. Alistair knew all the spots, how I liked to be touched and where I liked to be kissed. Once again, he had me at his mercy. I moaned and turned my head to kiss him when he finally slipped inside and started a slow pace. I reached back to lace my fingers in his hair and crush my lips against his. The hand he had resting on my hip moved to firmly grasp my jaw. I moaned again when he moved on to deep long strokes. He bit my lower lip gently and moved his hand down to my breasts, kneading the soft, pale flesh. My moans urged him on, steadily building towards our climax. He bit the back of my neck, breathing fast. I clawed at the bedroll as I felt my body beginning to tense. Alistair gripped my hip tightly, picking up the pace. The pleasure spread with every thrust, and I could feel Alistair tense behind me. I cried out at my release. I could feel Alistair reach his at the same time, spilling his seed. We slowed to a stop as we rode the waves of pleasure we shared.

I fell asleep in his arms, cradled in his warmth, floating away in sweet bliss.

* * *

I awoke before dawn and decided to get up early.

I got dressed, said ‘hi’ to Shale, stoked up the fire that had died down last night, and picked up a bucket to get fresh water. Asher padded after me, sniffing at the ground and occasionally inspecting a stick. He returned to my side when he had found one he liked, and laid it at my feet when we reached the stream, looking up at me expectantly. I threw it for him before filling up the bucket.

“Go get it, boy!” Asher happily bounded after it, leaving me to wait for him to return it. I stretched, carefully, and yawned. Running a hand through my hair to ruffle my curls. I washed my hands and face next. Complimented Asher on bringing back the stick, and threw it away for him again. I was considering throwing the stick into the stream next, to trick Asher into a bath, when Oghren walked up.

“Mornin’, lass. Sleep well?” he asked before dunking his head into the stream and shaking it wildly.  
“Better than usual,” I replied while shielding myself from the flying droplets, “thanks. How about you?”  
“We Durgelen sleep like the stone lass, I always sleep great,” he replied and yawned, “were you and blondie fighting last night?” I paused, I had hoped nobody had been able to hear our conversation.  
“Uhm, yeah. A little. What did you hear?” I asked innocently.  
“Just some angry whispering, and something about blood mages,” he said quietly and arched an eyebrow at me.  
“Not here,” I replied softly, and he gave me a nod. Then he grinned broadly.  
“Did you kiss and make up?” he asked while wriggling his eyebrows.  
“That, we did,” I answered and threw the stick away again for Asher, “don’t worry, you won’t have to break Alistair’s legs on Magnus’ account.” Oghren chuckled.  
“Old bear has a real soft spot for you,” he said. I smiled to myself. My uncle, while always carefully leaving me to my freedom, was very protective of me. Always had been, and that wasn’t ever going to change.

Asher dropped the stick at my feet again, “good boy!” I cooed, and threw the stick again.  
“Do you miss Orzammar yet?” I asked, looking back at my short, stocky companion.  
“Miss it!?” he laughed, “what’s there to miss? It reeks of piss and ale and is filled with tin-plated, back-stabbing, would-be tyrants.”  
“It’s still home though, isn’t it?” I asked.  
“Aye, it’s still home…” he conceded quietly, “eh, I didn’t have much of a life there anyway, Warden. Even if I wanted to go back, I lost my caste and my family, there is nothing for me there, now that I’m a surfacer.” He produced his flask and took a long drink.

“This is making me cranky,” he groused, “let’s go find something to kill. When are we going after this Witherfang?”  
“As soon as everybody is ready,” I replied.  
“Time to wake ‘em up then, let’s go,” he took the stick Asher had returned and threw it in the direction of our own camp. The dog chased after it while I picked up the bucket and followed Oghren back to our companions.

Oghren stepped up to Zevran’s tent and gave it a vigorous shake.  
“Wakey, wakey! It’s fleabag hunting time!” he yelled. He got hit on the back of the head by a shoe, thrown by Leliana.  
“Quiet down!” she hissed, poking her head out of her tent, “you’re going to wake the entire Dalish camp!” Oghren chuckled.  
“As long as it gets you lot out of bed, I’m happy.”  
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, amigo,” Zevran said sleepily as he crawled out of his tent and pointed at Morrigan approaching. She marched straight to Oghren and slapped the back of his head.

“Quiet,” she hissed, “or you’ll make no other noise than croaking through your vocal sacs!” Oghren rubbed the back of his head.  
“My what?”  
“She means she’ll turn you into a toad,” Zevran explained. Oghren paled a bit.  
“Right then, quiet.” He made a motion like he was turning a key in a lock inside his mouth and skulked off to get started on breakfast. I moved to wake Alistair up, but he was already emerging from our tent.

“Good morning,” he said with a yawn, “where did you run off to?”  
“Getting fresh water,” Asher bounced around me happily, “oh, and Asher has brought you a nice stick,” I added, grinning at my dog. I collected what I needed to brew a pot of tea and moved to the fire. Meanwhile Alistair gave Asher a vigorous belly rub and told him what a good boy he was. We took the horses to the stream to drink next, Asher herding the animals in the right direction. Within an hour, we had breakfast, packed up our things, and were ready to head into the forest again. We left the horses in the Dalish’ care, and continued on foot.

It turned out to be a tedious search. With the area marked on our map, we found the heart of the forest easily. The problem was, the forest didn’t stay as it was. It led us astray many times, path’s changed and disappeared. It was maddening. On top of that, the veil was thin. So apart from werewolves, we also fought demons. Plus the giant spiders, and, get this, sentient trees.

Morrigan identified them as Sylvans, demons, that had decided to possess a tree, rather than an animal or a person. She explained that it was usually lesser demons that did this, but on occasion, a benevolent spirit might do the same. If it was a demon though, it would be violent. There were also Revenants and walking corpses, bears and darkspawn. Zathrian wasn’t kidding when he said the forest was dangerous here, and it wanted to keep us out.

We thought we had made a break-through when we found what looked like a cloaked entrance to the heart of the forest. It was blocked off by churning mists, too thick to see through.

“Wynne, Morrigan, do you have any idea what this is?” Alistair asked, gesturing at the mist. Wynne looked thoughtful for a moment  
“It’s a barrier of some kind,” Wynne said slowly, Morrigan rolled her eyes.  
“They can _see_ it’s a barrier, I think the question is _what kind._ ” She tentatively put a hand to it and closed her eyes.

“’Tis not meant to harm, just to relocate. Though I don’t know where,” Morrigan said after a while.  
“I see two options then, we either leave it alone, or try to pass through,” Alistair said with a nod, “what would you do?” he looked at Morrigan. She stared at him in disbelief, not at the nature of the question, but at the fact he was putting enough trust in her advice to possibly enter an unknown re-location-barrier. Or whatever it was. She regained enough of her composure to glare at the swirling mists.

“Where ever this thing leads, it won’t be into the heart of the forest. Or it wouldn’t be here in the first place. I say we leave it alone, for now.” Wynne nodded in agreement.  
“We can always come back later. We should mark it on our map.” We went back to searching the forest and stumbled unto some kind of mad hermit. 

“Who are you? Did they send you?” he demanded nervously, wringing his hands. Alistair gave me an odd look before his eyes settled on the hermit again. Who was looking around at our party suspiciously.  
“Who are _you?”_ I countered obstinately, since no one else spoke.  
“Who are they?” he said with squinted eyes.  
“Who am I?” I asked and frowned at the odd conversation.  
“No! no, no, no, _what_ am I?” the hermit replied as he shook his head violently.  
“A Grey Warden,” I replied.  
“A mage,” he answered. I raised my eyebrows, did that mean he thought _I_ was a mage or that _he_ was a mage? I guessed it was the latter.  
“A mage, huh. Well, I haven’t been send by any Templar, nor would I care to. Do you live here?” I replied. He shook his head again, “no, you’re doing it all wrong! A question for a question, and an answer for an answer.”

_Right…_

“Ehm… I am looking for Witherfang,” I tried. The hermit stared at me, standing perfectly still like a frightened animal.  
“I am not Witherfang,” he said cautiously. I nodded.  
“I can tell, Witherfang is supposed to be a wolf, after all.”  
“Why do you seek Witherfang?” he asked.  
“Do you know where Witherfang is?” I replied, hoping asking a question was what I was supposed to do. The hermit nodded approvingly.  
“Witherfang lives here, in the forest. Like me.”  
“A Dalish clan is suffering from a disease brought on by werewolves, we seek to end the curse,” I said while studying the hermit closely. While he looked ragged, and seemed to have lost at least half his marbles, he clearly knew how to survive in this hostile part of the forest.

“The werewolves, yes. Very reclusive, very reclusive indeed,” the hermit mused, “I cannot help you.”  
“Please?” I asked, “a lot of people are in pain and dying because of the curse.” The hermit glared up at me. I guess he was trying to decide whether I had just asked him a question or not.

“A request,” he mumbled to himself “is a request the response for a request?”

“Is there a way to get past the barrier that blocks the path to the heart of the forest?” I asked while he was thrown of course, He narrowed his eyes.  
“Does the Grey Warden intend to kill the werewolves?”  
“Does the mage know how?”  
“What does the Grey Warden want from the mage?”

This was tedious, I rubbed my forehead and closed my eyes.

“Nothing, if you don’t wish to help us.”  
“How could I? Ah!” the hermit put his hand over his mouth with wide eyes. I allowed myself a small smile.  
“You tricked me!” he gasped, “clever, very clever. If it helps, I can offer you trade.” He started fumbling at a nearby tree stump and returned with an old helmet, a book, and an acorn. “This is what I can offer,” he said and carefully laid out the items on the grass.

I looked them over, the acorn was pretty, but useless. The helmet looked elven made, perhaps we could trade it at the Dalish camp, they might appreciate something of their past. The book was about Archon Darinius from Tevinter. I put down my pack and started to rummage through it laying out a few items I thought the hermit might want. He let his eye fall on a songbook that Zevran had stolen from the Dalish camp.

“I have not read this book,” he said and pointed at the songbook. I looked up at Zev, who shrugged.  
“Then I offer you this book for the helmet,” I replied.  
“Very good, very good,” the Hermit said approvingly, “I also offer you that book, for this book,” he said pointing at the book I had received from the young elf we had helped back at the Dalish camp, and then at the book about the Tevinter Archon. I gave a nod.  
“Good choice, I don’t believe I have read this one yet,” and handed him the book. The hermit smiled.  
“I have read it countless times.”

We thanked each other, said goodbye, and he left us bewildered and confused. I turned back around to see my companions gaping at me.

“That was…” Wynne began.  
“Odd,” Leliana said.  
“Confusing,” Alistair added  
“Extraordinary,” Zevran said with a mocking grin and a dramatic gesture.  
“How about bat shit crazy?” Oghren added.  
“Yes well, at least he can be counted as our one and only peaceful encounter in this place,” I said with a shrug and gestured for my companions to follow. We ended up where we had been two nights before, a small clearing with a grand Oaktree.

“Maker’s… _fuck!_ ” I exclaimed as I saw where we were, “we went in a Goddamn circle!”  
“It would seem that way,” Leliana said, looking around our old campsite. I looked at Alistair.   
“We might as well make camp I guess,” I mumbled and put my things down.

“Ah, you return to my clearing, so soon after disappearing,” a low rumbling voice came out of nowhere.

It made me jump and I immediately drew my rapiers, looking around to find the source of the voice. My companions were doing the same. None of us was looking at the Grand Oak that turned out to be the source of the voice. Morrigan spoke first.

“It rhymes? ‘tis a rhyming tree?” she said slowly. Oghren snickered.  
“A poet-tree, heh, get it?” The voice chuckled.  
“Fear not my child, although this place is wild, you are safe beneath my branches, even in these dire circumstances.” I gaped at the grand oak, was it a Sylvan? I didn’t hear any Sylvan speak before, and this one didn’t seem hostile. If it was, it could have crushed us when we slept here a few nights ago. And why the _fuck_ was it rhyming? I decided to let Alistair take this one, I wasn’t up for this. I already talked to the mad hermit.

“Erhm, yes, hello,” he began, “which dire circumstances are you referring to, exactly?” It went on to explain about the werewolves. Alistair asked after Witherfang, but there wasn’t much the Grand Oak could tell us about that. He did mention that the werewolves came when the forest spirit disappeared, though that was centuries ago.

I saw Alistair study the grand Oak closely, “can you get us to the heart of the forest? To Witherfang?” he asked when the tree was done telling his tale.  
“Hmm, This I could do, but first, I must ask a favour of you,” the Oak replied thoughtfully. Alistair looked at me, and I just shrugged.  
“What is it you wish to ask?” he said.  
“I have but one desire, to solve a matter very dire. As I slept one early morn’, a thief did come and steal my acorn,” the Oak said in its slow baritone.  
“Acorn?” I heard Zevran say and noticed he started rummaging in his packs.  
“All I have is my being, my seed. Without it, I am alone indeed. I cannot go and seek it out, yet I shall die if left without,” the tree continued.  
“A thief took it you say, this wouldn’t happen to be the mad hermit we met earlier?” Alistair asked over his shoulder.  
“Why, yes!” Zevran said and proudly presented the acorn. I raised an eyebrow.  
“Stealing from mad hermits now, are we?” I said, Zevran shrugged.   
“It seemed funny at the time, besides we’re in a forest. He’ll find a new one.” Alistair took the acorn from Zevran and held it up for the Grand Oak. The creature roared in delight, and took the acorn from Alistair in turn. It offered Alistair a branch, explaining that it would make the forest think we were a tree and allow us to pass the barrier. We decided to go back tomorrow. It was late and we needed rest. The Grand Oak promised us we would be safe with it, its magic kept other beings, such as werewolves, away. And with Shale also watching, I felt confident enough of our safety to sleep.

* * *

We approached the barrier, Alistair up front, holding the branch the grand Oak had given us. The churning mists parted and we entered into a small clearing leading to an ancient temple, partly collapsed and overgrown with plants. It looked oddly peaceful up until a group of nine werewolves approached.

We all drew our weapons, ready to meet the enemy. I was about to charge when the leader spoke.

“Stand down, brothers!”

I blinked, my companions froze around me as the werewolves sat down obediently and waited. I blinked again. I had never heard of talking werewolves before, this offered new opportunities.

“You talk, good. That will make this much easier,” I said and waited for the werewolf to explain himself.  
“Enough of our brethren have died, human. We want no more casualties, are you willing to parlay?” it asked.  
“I’m Fela, a Grey Warden, and I am willing to parlay,” I replied and sheathed my blades.  
“What are you doing!?” Alistair whispered urgently.  
“Agreeing to a parlay,” I said with a shrug.  
“I am Swiftrunner,” the werewolf replied, “I speak for Witherfang.”  
“Good, we’ve been looking for Witherfang,” I replied and nodded.

Swiftrunner snarled, ran up, and stopped with his snout a few inches from my face. I took every ounce of willpower not to flinch, and not to gag at his foul breath. It still made my eyes tear up though.

“The Dalish send a human, of all things, to exact their revenge!?” he growled.  
“They seek to break the curse, so yes, they send me. And here I am, agreeing to your parlay.” I stared right back at Swiftrunner, my expression carefully neutral and my tone even more so.  
“They send you to kill Witherfang!” Swiftrunner snarled.  
“Yes,” I said and Swiftrunner gave another feral growl, I held up a hand to stop Alistair from interfering as he slowly moved to my side.

“They also told me you were mindless beasts, clearly they lied,” I continued, “and I don’t respond well to manipulation. What the Dalish _want_ me to do, and what I am _going_ to do, are two different things at this point. I’m guessing there is more to this story. So do you wish to parlay or not?”

This was the turning point I had been expecting. Zathrian had told me his side of the story, coloured it with his version of the truth. The creatures he had called mindless beasts were speaking and offering a parley. We suspected him of being a blood mage. And we already knew Zathrian was holding things back. Essentially, I had made Zathrian a false promise. I did want to help the Dalish by breaking the curse, but I wouldn’t slaughter Witherfang without a second thought because he said I should. I wanted the Dalish armies, not Zathrian’s approval. I needed more information, and this was the opportunity to get it. The pieces were starting to fit together in my head. So I stared Swiftrunner down until he backed up and lowered his head a little. I had won this stand-off.

“Your parlay is not with me, Grey Warden. The Lady wishes to speak with you,” Swiftrunner finally said. Lady?  
“Then take us to her. We will only fight if we are attacked, understand?” Swiftrunner gave a nod and an affirmative grunt before turning to lead us into the ruin.

Surrounded by werewolves, I didn’t get to pay much attention to the ruin itself. While I was fairly certain Swiftrunner was keeping his word, he seemed… volatile. So I kept a close eye on my companions and the werewolves surrounding us.

“Parlay with werewolves? Really, Fela?” Alistair whispered as he caught up to me.  
“Hush, there is more to this. The grand Oak told us that the spirit of the forest disappeared right before the werewolves came, right?” I replied. Alistair nodded.  
“And Zathrian, our suspect blood mage, called Witherfang the first,” I continued. His eyes widened a bit.  
“So you’re thinking the two are connected?”  
“That’s exactly what I think, one thing I haven’t figured out yet, is Zathrian’s place in the picture. This curse has existed for centuries. He’d like us to believe he and his clan are just victims, that all he wants is to end the curse for his people, but I wonder…” I trailed off.  
“You wonder if he isn’t getting more out of it,” Alistair finished my thought, “alright, I’ll follow your lead.”

Swiftrunner led us to what looked like the main chamber of the temple where more werewolves waited. They howled, snarled, and growled as we entered. I can’t say I was feeling very confident, but I refused to let it show. So I kept my head held high and stared straight ahead where a white direwolf with roots adorning its legs waited. Swiftrunner kneeled in front of the direwolf and lowered his head.

“My Lady, I have brought you the Grey Wardens and their companions.” The direwolf stood and shifted into a woman. Though she couldn’t be called human, elvish, dwarfish, of even Qunari. She had a full, voluptuous physique. Long, straight black hair falling over her shoulders to cover her breasts. Her arms and legs ended in roots and branches, and her skin was slightly green. But even more striking where her jet black eyes. There was no white to them.

“Thank you, Swiftrunner, you’ve done well,” she said and laid a hand on one of his shoulders. He seemed to relax at her touch, the tension leaving him.

“I welcome you, and your companions, Grey Warden. This is my sanctuary, I ask you stay your weapons. I do not wish any more blood spilled,” she said. I nodded.  
“Agreed. My name is Fela, and I assume you must be Witherfang, and the spirit of the forest. Pleasure to meet you.” Her eyes widened, and she looked slightly taken aback by my words.  
“Yes,” she said, “I am the Lady of the Forest, and I am Witherfang. Tell me, mortal, how do you know this?”  
“I didn’t know, you just confirmed it. I only suspected it based on what Zathrian and the Grand Oak have said,” I explained.  
“You have realised that Zathrian has not told you the full truth then?” she asked.  
“I have, but I have no inclination of exactly how much I’m missing. I’m hoping you can fill in some of the blanks,” I replied.  
“What has Zathrian told you of how this curse came to be?” the Lady inquired. “Nothing, only that he needs your heart to end it,” I answered. “Do you intend to bring him my heart?” she asked softly.  
“No.” She looked up with wide eyes again, “you are not as I expected you to be, mortal.”  
“Yeah, I get that a lot. Why don’t you tell me why you asked for a parlay?” I replied.

“Keeper Zathrian, is not who he wants you to think he is,” the Lady began, “and his connection to this curse is far more intimate than he would have you believe. He is old, far older than any mortal should be. The curse sustains him, as it sustains me.” Swiftrunner took over.  
“Centuries ago, when Zathrian was a young man, he had a son and a daughter. They were taken, by humans that had settled in the area he was passing through. His son was tortured to death. His daughter was raped, and when she discovered she was with child, she took her own life.”  
“Blinded by grief, Zathrian came here, to the heart of the forest, where he summoned me and bound me to the body of a direwolf, and set me upon the humans that had taken his children from him. Most of them died, but those who survived, were cursed,” the Lady spoke, “so it was, that this curse was born. Bound by Zathrian’s blood, it has existed for centuries.”

Blood mage, called it. No wait, Alistair called it.

“And now, here we are,” I said with a nod, “and the curse has spread to his clan. I take it that was no accident.”  
“Every time he passed through this area, we send word to him. Asking him to come speak to us, to end this curse. We will no longer be ignored!” the Lady said forcefully.  
“We spread the curse to his people, so he has no choice. He will break the curse, or his clan will die,” Swiftrunner added.  
“I see,” I said quietly, “I take it werewolves don’t live for centuries, so I’m guessing you are the descendants of the humans he cursed. Correct?” I asked Swiftrunner.  
“Many generations have been punished for the crimes of others,” the Lady replied, “those who took Zathrian’s children are long dead.”

“You want to speak with Zathrian,” I said slowly, “to end the curse. But if the curse is what sustains him…”  
“Yes, Zathrian will die,” the Lady finished my sentence.  
“I figured as much,” I said with a sigh, “convincing him to do that is not going to be easy…”  
“We know,” the Lady replied, “that is why we left him no choice.”  
“An extreme method, but after centuries of suffering I can see why,” Alistair sighed.  
“So what is it you want me to do, exactly?” I asked and looked from the Lady to Swiftrunner and back.

“Talk to Zathrian, convince him to parlay with us. Tell him we want to end the curse,” the Lady said. I nodded.  
“I will do this for you, but I cannot promise you I can convince him.”  
“That will be enough Warden, your willingness to help is more kindness than we have received over the last five hundred years,” the Lady replied, “return to us safely.”

* * *

We were escorted out of the ruin by Swiftrunner, who remained inside to protect his Lady. I was glad for it, because the moment we stepped into the clearing, we came face to face with Zathrian.

“Why am I not surprised,” I sneered as I watched him approach. Zathrian ignored my comment and turned to Alistair.  
“Did you get the heart?”  
“No we did not,” he said calmly.  
“Then I suggest you go back and get it,” Zathrian said coldly. Alistair shook his head.  
“The Lady of the forest has told us how this curse came to be, Zathrian.”  
“Did she? Did she also tell you what you _Shems_ have done to my children!?” Zathrian demanded.

“She told us what Shems from _five_ _hundred_ _years_ _ago_ did to your children,” I corrected, “Shemlen means quickling, does it not? It refers to our short life-spans I suppose. The men who took your children from you are long since dead, the ones suffering now had nothing to do with it.” He turned his fury onto me.  
 _“Suffering!?_ What do you know about suffering, Shem!?” Heat flared in my chest, causing the muscles in my shoulders and neck to go rigid. It took everything I had not to punch him in the face right there. I felt Alistair’s hand on my shoulder, and Wynne’s on the other, ready to step in if they needed to. And they were probably right to do so, my posture had subconsciously changed from annoyed, to ready to attack.

“As much as I like a good crying-contest to determine who has suffered the most, now is not the time,” I said icily, staring at the side of Zathrian’s head furiously, “but I will tell you this, Keeper, my entire family was murdered and my home has been burned down by a trusted friend. Yet, I am here to stop a Blight, rather than looking for vengeance. So do not ask me what I know of suffering!” I spat the words at him like venom. Of course, I _was_ looking for vengeance but I was putting it off in favour of more pressing matters. But Zathrian didn’t need to know trivial details like that.

“Let’s start over,” Alistair said in a calming voice.

“The werewolves have asked for a parlay. We agreed to bring their request to you, because they want to end the curse. I personally prefer a peaceful resolution,” he explained.  
“The werewolves have _asked_ for a parlay?” Zathrian said scathingly, “those _beasts_ want a peaceful resolution?”  
“Those ‘beasts’ have presence of mind. They speak, and they regained control of their faculties. The Lady has helped them achieve that, so they follow her. And her wish is to end the curse, to end their suffering, and yours,” Alistair said sharply.  
“And you believe these animals?” Zathrian answered, “you _know_ what they are! You’ve been attacked, you _know_ what they can do, the death and violence they bring.”  
“No Zathrian, that is just what _you_ think they are. You are blinded by hatred,” Alistair retorted. Zathrian glared at Alistair.  
“Nothing good can come of this.”  
“Nothing good already _has_ come of it, we all want to break the curse. It will save your people, and remove the werewolf plague from these forests,” Alistair replied.

“Zathrian,” I said softly. The mage briefly looked my way, and then looked away. But I had his attention.

“Your people are suffering, the werewolves are suffering, _you_ are suffering. Talk to them, please. We can end this curse and all this suffering of people and beasts who weren’t even there when those crimes against your children were committed. It would end _yours,_ ” I spoke to the side of Zathrian’s head, as he refused to look at me for more than two seconds, but I could see the cogs working in his mind. He was considering the request.

“I will agree to this parlay, on one condition,” Zathrian said. “If the werewolves attack, you stand with me. I cannot risk being led into a trap and killed when my people need me.” Alistair nodded.  
“Agreed. Unless _you_ attack _first._ ” Zathrian looked as if he was about to protest for a moment, but he sighed and nodded.  
“Very well, enough blood has been spilled.” I let out a sigh of relief. The first battle was won, he had agreed to talk. It wasn’t a sure thing by any means, anything could still happen. But we were taking a step forward, if he had refused, we would have been done. Zathrian followed us into the ruin, our party formed a protective ring around him. It seemed to calm him down a bit as we entered the chamber where the Lady waited. Like before, the werewolves gave a grand display of teeth, claws, and ferocity. But they remained where they were.

Swiftrunner stood in front of the Lady protectively, looking at me wearily, as I was in the front of our little escort.

“Zathrian has decided to honour your request for a parlay,” I informed him. When he didn’t move, I stepped forward, reaching out with one hand. He sniffed it, but kept his eyes on Zathrian, who stood behind me. Behind Swiftrunner, the Lady watched with keen interest at what I was doing.  
“Swiftrunner,” I said softly and his eyes turned to mine, “we are here to talk, there will be no more bloodshed.” He growled low in his throat.  
“I will not allow any harm to befall the Lady,” he said.  
“I know, it’s ok,” I replied and reached out to gently brush my fingers over his head. He closed his eyes for a brief second, the tension leaving him as it had before. He looked back at the Lady, who gave a reassuring nod, and he took a step back.

“So this is what you meant when you said they spoke and regained their faculties,” Zathrian said scathingly, “once a monster, always a monster.”  
“You would know about monsters, Keeper, only a monster can create another,” the Lady replied coldly. He gave a condescending laugh.  
“I didn’t make them into monsters, I just made them _look_ like the monsters they are.”  
“You are wrong,” she said, putting a hand on Swiftrunner’s shoulder.  
“Just the descendants of monsters then,” he said mockingly, “though it doesn’t change their nature.”  
“No Zathrian, their nature is no longer what your curse forced it to be,” the Lady answered.  
“Is that so? Is that why they have attacked my clan repeatedly and systematically?” Zathrian snapped. Swiftrunner growled but stayed where he was. The Lady turned away from Zathrian.  
“You left us no choice, Keeper. Had you heeded our pleas, we would not have resorted to this.”  
“And I am supposed to believe this _isn’t_ a trap?” he challenged.

“Enough!” Alistair cut in, shutting up both Zathrian and the Lady. Swiftrunner cocked his head at him, unsure of how to respond to the commanding tone of the human. So far, Alistair had been fairly quiet in the werewolves’ and the Lady’s presence.  
“The purpose of this parlay is to end the curse,” he continued at a normal volume. Zathrian and the Lady stared at each other for a long moment. His face was dripping with hatred.  
“No,” he said.

We all turned towards him, _“what!?”_  
“No,” he repeated, “I will not break the curse.” The werewolves started to stir, restlessly. Swiftrunner bared his teeth.  
“He seeks to harm you, Lady, we should kill him now!”  
“Hush, Swiftrunner, you will only prove him right,” the Lady said calmingly, though there was an unmistakable chill to her voice. Zathrian turned towards Alistair.  
“You can see for yourself Warden, they are rabid beasts that need to be put down.”  
“Zathrian,” Alistair said, “think about this. You have the power to end this!”  
“No,” Zathrian repeated, “they deserve their fates.” His voice was ice and iron.

“Then your clan will die!” the Lady spoke, “does your hatred for humans long dead run so deep that you would rather let them die in agony than end all this suffering?”  
“Just how far are you willing to go to get your revenge, Zathrian?” Alistair said slowly. The elven mage looked at him with disgust and disbelief.  
“Revenge? This is justice! Justice for my son who was tortured to death! For my daughter! Raped and used like an object to be discarded! So defiled and damaged she took her own life out of fear of bringing another monster into the world!” Zathrian’s face was twisted in a mask of grief and hatred so deep, it had fundamentally changed him.

“Make your choice, Warden! Will you stand with these beasts? Or will you stand with me, and the Dalish troops?” Zathrian demanded, hoping to strongarm Alistair into choosing his side. Alistair stared at him motionlessly, refusing to be manipulated, or to bow to Zathrian’s ultimatum.

“Break the curse, Zathrian,” Alistair said in a dangerously low voice. It wasn’t a question, it was a command.  
“Have it your way,” Zathrian sneered and raised his staff. Immediately, Alistair hit him with a holy smite, draining Zathrian’s mana and forcing him to his knees. He stared down at the mage.  
“Break the curse,” he repeated with a voice like hot steel, “ _blood_ _mage_.” Zathrian’s lips curled back in a feral grin.

“Zathrian,” I said, startling both men out of their staring contest, “look at me.” A fire rose in my abdomen when he refused to look up, I flared with rage like before, it set all my instincts ablaze with violence.  
“ _L_ _ook at me!_ ” Finally, his eyes found mine, and this time, he didn’t avert his gaze.

I reached out, looking deep into his eyes. Locking my stare into his to let me gaze into him. I took a step closer, studying him curiously. I could see it now, what it was about him. Why he didn’t belong. He had lived for too long, with nothing but his grief and fury to taint his mind. This man was in pain, for several lifetimes, he had been in constant pain. What was left of him had long since retreated deep within himself, what he presented to the outside world was an outer shell. His role as Keeper. But beyond that, he was broken, hurt, and scarred.

“Zathrian,” I whispered, finally seeing him, the broken man inside the shell.  
“You are in pain,” I whispered and knelt to level my gaze with his, “what have you done to yourself?” It wasn’t a question. I reached for his face but stopped half-way through the motion. “for so long you have endured, suffered the pain of your loss. How much can your soul endure before it shatters?” I saw it then, what he carried, and what it had done to him.  
“I see you, Zathrian, the man, the father, the husband. But this is not him, he lies in the shallow grave you dug at the bottom of your soul. Why did you bury him there?” I took his face in my hands, “is it because he wants it to end? Is it because he has had his fill of revenge? Because he wants to die?” Zathrian started to tremble as I spoke.  
“No, no that is not it,” I studied him, “you’ve split him off, because you think he is a traitor. Because you believe letting go is a betrayal to your children.” His eyes were fearful now.  
“Yes, that’s it,” I continued, “you have punished yourself with lifetimes of grief and agony, because you loved them. Because you want to be reunited with them but think you don’t deserve it. It has been far too long, Zathrian. You have suffered enough.”

I let go of him, severing the connection and breaking my gaze. Zathrian fell to his hands and knees on the stone floor, still trembling, when I let go. I slowly stood, offering him my hand. Wordlessly, he took it and let me pull him to his feet.

“I am ready,” he finally said, his voice was tired and broken.  
“I have lived for too long, it is time,” he said and turned to the Lady.  
“You will break the curse?” she asked, her black eyes wide with disbelief.  
“Yes,” Zathrian said, “are you ready?” She turned to Swiftrunner.  
“This is goodbye then, my friend,” she said with a sad smile.  
“Lady?” Swiftrunner asked, “will you…”  
“Yes, what sustains him is what sustains me. If the curse is to be broken, I will fade away,” she said, cupping the werewolf’s big head.  
“What will we do without you? Where will we go?” Swiftrunner said quietly, nuzzling the Lady’s hand.  
“You will find your way, Swiftrunner. You will have a life,” she replied. They locked in a stare for a brief moment, then she let go and turned to Zathrian.  
“I am ready.”

Zathrian and the Lady stood facing each other, us in a circle around them, and the werewolves stood in a circle around us in turn. He spread out his hands and closed his eyes. White light enveloped them slowly and both let out a relieved sigh. Brilliant light kept spreading from them until it filled up the room. The last thing I saw before the light blinded me, was the look of peace on both their faces.

Zathrian and the Lady were gone, there were no remains, the space where they had stood was simply empty. The werewolves were gone too, in their places stood befuddled, naked humans. The curse had been lifted.

“By the sodding Stone, what did I just witness!?” Oghren broke the stunned silence with his raspy voice.  
“I don’t- I don’t even know where to start,” Alistair replied, looking at me with a mixture of awe and confusion.  
“The curse has truly been lifted,” Wynne said as she looked around, “he actually did it!”  
“Let’s get back to the Dalish camp,” I said, “we should tell them what happened. Well… maybe not all of it.”  
“Agreed, some things are better left out. Like me smiting their Keeper,” Alistair said crisply. Then he turned to where Swiftrunner had stood, in his place, stood a confused man with wild brown hair.

“Are you guys going to be alright?”  
“Yeah,” he said hesitantly, “I think we’re going to be alright…”  
“So listen, it would probably be best if you didn’t mention to anyone that you’ve met two Grey Wardens. There are prices on our heads at the moment, and you might get arrested for it,” Alistair said, “but if you’re looking for a place to settle, you could go to Redcliffe. They could certainly use extra hands to help rebuilt. Just follow the West Road until you find a large town with windmills by Lake Calenhad.” Swiftrunner gave him a small smile.  
“Thanks for the advice, Warden, I will think on this. Perhaps we will meet again one day.”

With that we left the werewolves… _humans_ , in the ruin and began making our way back to the Dalish camp. When we stopped for a short break, Alistair took me aside.

“I think we should talk about what happened in the ruin,” Alistair began slowly. Ah, yes, I did do my… thing, right in front of everybody after all.  
“Of course,” I replied and followed him a short distance away from the group.  
“Are you… feeling ok?” he asked and looked at me inquisitively.  
“After what I did with Zathrian, you mean?” I asked in turn. He nodded.

“I feel dirty, that’s for sure,” I said with a shrug.  
“I am trying to understand what happened in that ruin, but as far as any of us could tell, you just _looked_ at Zathrian, nothing more,” Alistair replied and looked to me to explain what I had done.  
“I did more than look, I suppose…” I began quietly, “I’m not entirely sure what I did either, because I’m not sure about exactly _how_ this thing works.”  
“You got through to him,” Alistair said pensively, “what I don’t understand is _how_ you did that.”

I thought for a moment, “I looked beneath it all, the hate, the lust for revenge, the lifetimes of grief for his children… he had… twisted himself into something that could endure it all. I don’t think the person beneath had been truly seen ever since he lost his children.”  
“The way you spoke to him, it was almost as if you were examining his soul…” Alistair mused.  
“I don’t know about all that, in my experience, it is more like gazing into someone’s psyche, it lets me figure out why people do what they do,” I explained.  
“I’ve never seen you do it quite like that,” he replied.  
“I hardly ever do. It creeps people out,” I answered.  
“Would you do it more often if it didn’t?” Alistair asked curiously. I shook my head.  
“I’d rather not, this was something of an exception.”  
“How so?”  
“Because what I see isn’t pretty, it’s painful and raw, and hidden for good reason. Some things are better left unseen,” I replied.  
“Unseen, or unfelt?” Alistair asked. I smiled at him.  
“Both,” I said honestly. Alistair knew, he understood.  
“Can you still feel it?” he asked quietly, cupping my face in his hands.  
“The memory of it, yes,” I confessed.  
“Did you absorb?” he asked in concerned tone of voice.  
“No,” I said and turned my head to kiss the inside of his palm, “I’m fine, just tired.” He pulled me closer to take me in an embrace and kissed the top of my head.

“You were amazing back there,” he said softly. I leaned into his chest and smiled.  
“You were quite amazing yourself, dominating, even.” He chuckled.  
“I’ve noticed you respond well to that.” I looked up to kiss him and smiled.  
“And I’ve noticed you enjoy that.” He chuckled again.  
“Don’t get me started, little minx. We still have the Dalish to deal with.” We returned to our companions and continued on our way.

When we returned, Lanaya was waiting for us.

“Wardens,” she greeted us, “you have succeeded, the curse has been lifted. Our people are recovering as we speak.” She smiled a broad smile of relief, then looked among our groups.  
“Where is the Keeper?” she asked.  
“Long story,” Alistair said with a sigh.  
“Come, let us speak in a more private setting,” Lanaya replied and led us through the camp. She gestured for us to enter her aravel and followed. I let Alistair do the talking, explaining how Zathrian was connected to the Lady of the forest through the curse. How they sacrificed themselves to lift it, and explaining the werewolves were gone. Lanaya sat through it all quietly listening, looking down at her hands.

“I had my suspicions,” she said after Alistair had finished explaining, “but I never thought he was a blood mage…”  
“He did what was right in the end, without him, the curse wouldn’t have been lifted,” Alistair said consolingly. Lanaya looked up at him with keen interest.  
“Your kindness exceeds even your bravery,” she said solemnly.  
“What will you do? Now that Zathrian is gone?” I asked.  
“I will take over from him as Keeper, Warden,” she replied, “as is my duty.”  
“Good, they will need a strong leader to get them through times ahead,” I answered, bowing my head slightly. Lanaya smiled at me.  
“My first act as Keeper, is swearing to uphold the treaty with our Grey Warden allies. You have our support in the upcoming war, and we will come when you call.”

I felt a major weight fall off my shoulders. It was done, we had succeeded in pursuing the treaties, and we had our army. _Holy shit, we have an army!_ I realised with a shock. The task that had seemed impossible, had been completed.

Well, partly. There was still the Archdemon, and Loghain. But with our army, we had a fighting chance at surviving this. I shared a look with Alistair, he was thinking the same.

“Allow us to be your hosts,” Lanaya said and startled us out of our inner thoughts, “you must be exhausted. It’s the least we can do.” We thanked her from the bottoms of our hearts and returned to our companions to inform them of what had transpired. The Dalish camp offered a lot more comforts compared to setting up our own, and we had gladly accepted Lanaya’s invitation. I returned to the armorer to give him the ironbark we had found, and he in turn presented me with the armor he had been making for me. It fit like a glove when he had me try it on, though he still insisted he had to make a few small adjustments. He promised me it would be ready the next day, before we left for Redcliffe.

He was in such a jubilant state, the man was making me giddy. I thanked him again and promised him to remember what he had done for me. After a good hot meal, I retreated to the aravel that had been assigned to Alistair and me. By then I was so tired I barely remember making it to bed. I didn’t even undress, I just dropped on the blankets and drifted off. I had no dreams that night. Just a vague memory of Alistair undressing me and putting me under the blankets.


	43. The Fourth Night at Redcliffe Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While at Redcliffe, Eamon and Teagan bring Fela and Alistair up to speed about the proceedings. Fela notices something unusual in the reports Eamon gives her, and it leads to a new source of information.

We were on the road back to Redcliffe, and making better time than I had hoped. The rains that had hindered us before had eased up, and while the roads were anything but safe, it was better than before.

I noticed a slight change in the general mood. There was a tense kind of anticipation. We were getting closer to the end, and they could feel it too.

Though we weren’t quite there yet, Eamon had called the Landsmeet but that didn’t mean all the nobles had made a mad dash for Denerim. Their lands were being slowly destroyed by the Blight, their people were being slaughtered and those that survived often became sick. And we knew the roads were far from safe. I was counting on Eamon and Magnus to keep tabs on the other nobles, who had left for Denerim, who had already arrived, and how much time we had left. As it was, I was hoping to go to Soldiers Peak before going to Denerim. Levi had been waiting for us there for quite a while now, and I really _did_ want to investigate the fortress. And not just because it would give us a base to retreat to if the Landsmeet went badly.

“So,” I heard Oghren say to Alistair, “you and the boss, huh.” They seemed unaware I was able to hear every word, riding right in front of them. Or at least, Oghren did.   
“Me and Fela, yes. What about it?” Alistair replied casually.   
“You kids make a hell of a lotta noise, heh, reminds me of a certain someone,” I could tell by Oghren’s tone of voice he was wriggling his eyebrows and giving Alistair a suggestive look.   
“A noisy someone?” Alistair asked dryly.   
“Ooh, aye,” Oghren chuckled, “real firecracker between the sheets, she was. Went to the surface, never saw her again.”   
“You’re not talking about Branka,” Alistair stated with a raised eyebrow.   
“Branka? You have trouble telling up from down, boy? Branka went down into the Deep Roads, not up to the surface,” Oghren said with a belch. Alistair rolled his eyes.   
“It wasn’t a question. I’m just… surprised, that there was another woman in your life.”   
“What’re you sayin’!?” Oghren groused, “ladies love ol’ Oghren! Or they used to, anyway. Just ‘cause you ain’t been with more than one woman don’t mean the rest of us haven’t.”   
“You don’t know how many women I’ve been with,” Alistair said with a shrug. Oghren eyed him suspiciously.   
“What’re you sayin’? Leliana said Fela was your first, came to the little lady for advice about wooing women and everything.” Alistair shook his head.   
“Never mind, forget I said anything.”   
“Oh no, pretty boy,” Oghren pressed on, “this is little Fae we’re talking about, so spit it out!”   
“No,” came Alistair’s blunt reply, “and if you’re wondering if I have been unfaithful to her, I haven’t.” Oghren narrowed his eyes and then roared a laugh.   
“I see, been havin’ some practice at a cathouse, eh? Aye, best to learn from playful kittens. Makin sure you know what you’re doing before doing _her_ , am I right!?” Alistair scowled.   
“No! That’s not what I meant!”   
“Say no more lad, uncle Oghren can keep a secret,” Oghren let out a greasy chuckle.   
“It’s not- I didn’t- oh for _fuck’s_ sake!” Alistair sputtered. Oghren burst out laughing.   
“Yes! For fuck’s sake!” he roared.

I decided to come to Alistair’s rescue.

“Come on, Oghren, even you think he’s pretty. You think he would have to pay for sex?” I called over my shoulder. That caught the ginger dwarf off guard.   
“Er- I don’t look at other guys that way,” he mumbled.   
“Oh, there is no shame in it, my stocky friend,” came Zevran’s purr, “you like what you like.” That turned Oghren beet red.

“And I agree with Fela, he’s pretty enough that people would be paying _him_ for sex,” Zevran continued and winked at Alistair with a hungry smile.   
“Is that what happened?” Oghren quipped. Alistair sighed and buried his face in the palm of his hand.   
“I believe I have heard mention of a certain ‘Isabella’,” Zevran answered in a stage whisper.

_Ignore it Alistair, don’t give him a response. Stay cool, you can do it_.

“Do you ever occupy yourself with anything _other_ than eavesdropping?” Alistair groused.

_Damnit Alistair!_

“Ah, and you met her in Denerim, yes? When you returned to the Gnawed Noble smelling of perfume. What was it you were doing before that? Visiting a whorehouse, the Pearl, yes?” Zevran said innocently.   
“Wait, so were there whores? Or no whores?” Oghren interrupted.   
“Indeed,” Zevran smiled sweetly, “were there?”

_Don’t answer him, don’t answer him, don’t answer him._

“No!” Alistair said exasperatedly.

_Stop it, Alistair!_

“No whores, no infidelity, no payment!” Alistair said, blushing furiously.   
“Well, that leaves only one option,” Zevran said with a wide, predatory grin, “they had a three way.”  
It was my turn to sigh and bury my face in the palm of my hand.

“Wha- nooo… no, no, no, no,” Alistair stammered.   
“The question is, with whom?” Zevran continued in a conspiratory voice, “was it a woman by the name of Isabella? I wonder?”   
“Let me stop you right there, Zev,” I called over my shoulder, “we know how this goes, you make Alistair blush furiously, we try to tell you the truth, and you choose to think whatever serves you best. And we all know that’s usually just what you find most entertaining. So why don’t we skip all that and you can just think whatever you like.” Zevran gave me a bow as best he could while riding a horse.   
“As you wish, my dear lady. And we shall conveniently skip the second part,” he winked. He knew. I shrugged.

Zevran spurred his horse to ride next to me.   
“There was something else I’ve been wondering about, Fela,” Zevran said, his tone more serious.   
“Go ahead,” I replied and waited for his question.   
“What did you do to Zathrian in the ruin?” he asked. Should have seen that question coming.   
“Erm… That’s not an easy question to answer,” I began, looking over my shoulder to see who was listening.   
“Try me,” Zevran urged.   
“Ok,” I said and drew in a slow breath, “you know how I have a knack for reading people, right?”   
“I have seen your marvellous powers of perception in action on several occasions,” Zevran answered.   
“Well, that’s basically what I did to Zathrian, to find his… drive, or motivations, or whatever you want to call it, and use it to get him to break the curse,” I replied.   
“So, you looked at him, and you just knew?” he asked with raised eyebrows. I shook my head.   
“You’re making it sound like I was reading his mind. I wasn’t. We had learned a few things about him from that grand Oaktree. It wasn’t hard to draw conclusions.”   
“That doesn’t explain what you did in the ruin though,” Zevran pressed on.

“I am… more sensitive, to another person’s emotional state than most. In the ruin, when he refused to lift the curse, I… well, I got angry. And I did something I wouldn’t normally do to a person,” I began. Zevran nodded slowly.   
“Ok, I hear you. So what was it you did, exactly?”   
“I focussed my attention on him, to… I don’t know, study him, I suppose. No one does what Zathrian did without reason. The eye contact… makes it easier to see. And what I saw, was someone so terribly hurt and broken by his own grief, that all it took was for someone to see him. Truly see him, and remind him,” I answered, rubbing my forehead with one hand, “thing is, I’m not entirely sure what it is that I do. Just that I have a very good grasp on whatever is going on in another person’s psyche. And Zathrian wasn’t letting me in willingly so I forced it.” Zevran remained silent for a while.

“I have never heard of such a… skill? Before,” he said slowly, then he grinned, “if I had tits like yours and the ability to read people like that, I’d own half the world by now.” I chuckled.   
“I am taking my slice of the pie, don’t you worry. But seriously, I never did anything like I did with Zathrian to any of you, and I never would. Invading someone like that is… well, wrong of course. But I also don’t want to. Seeing someone as clearly as that is…” I trailed off.   
“Ugly,” Zevran finished.   
“Yes.”   
“We all harbour a kind of darkness that we hide from the world, to see what others don’t… it is not always a blessing,” he said in an understanding tone.   
“Thank you,” I said honestly. I didn’t go after what Zevran’s statement had implied. He wasn’t ready for it. He gave me a nod and one of his genuine smiles.

* * *

We were greeted by Isolde when we made it back to Redcliffe. She’d been chatting up the Grand Cleric and was eager to inform us she had managed to pry a few things out of the old prune. A Templar, named Irminric Eremon, had gone missing. If we could find him, it might earn us the Chantry’s favour. Apparently the man had been seen last near Redcliffe, but that was months ago, even before the battle at Ostagar.

It was useful information though, and she practically bounced with pride when I told her so. We weren’t going on a search for the man but we travelled a lot and talked to a lot of people, it was worth asking around. Even if we found a corpse, the Chantry would want to know so they could inform relatives and honour his sacrifice. Something I agreed on with the Chantry, which was a rare thing. And I suppose I did enjoy Isolde’s happiness at being able to help in her own way. Her drastically changed attitude towards Alistair and me was starting to become genuine, and I was glad for it. No doubt we’d be seeing a lot of Eamon if we managed to put Alistair on the throne. And that meant we’d probably see a lot of Isolde too.

Connor was to be send to the Circle of Magi, and she was determined to have another baby. Alistair was feeding it of course, smiling innocently whenever Isolde started talking about babies again. He would occasionally mention babies and watch Isolde go like a wind-up toy. I appreciated the innocent bit of manipulation but I wasn’t thrilled to be the main recipient of Isolde’s baby-ramblings. Alistair nagged me about babies enough as it was, even if it was endearing.

I decided to eat and have a bath before speaking to Eamon and Teagan. It was late afternoon, and we wouldn’t be travelling that night. So we decided that they could wait, they weren’t the ones running around the Brecillian Forest those last few weeks. It felt great to be clean and in an elegant, deep red dress. It was almost like being my old self again.

Isolde had chosen well. She favoured the frilly Orlesian fashion herself, but every time she picked a dress for me she’d find something elegant, but practical. Easy to move in, few restraints. And I was pleased to find a hidden pocket in the skirt that allowed access to a blade strapped to my thigh. Isolde herself just didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would wear something like this, not to mention, I stood quite a bit taller than she did and the dress fit me perfectly. It was possible she’d had it made for me. I didn’t have it in me to forgive Isolde for what she had done to Alistair when he was a child, but I appreciated the effort.

“Shall we go, my love?” Alistair stood in the doorway, clad in black trousers, a white blouse, and a dark red coat. He grinned as he watched me eye him up and down.   
“Nice,” I said appreciatively and kissed him lightly on his cheek before taking his arm, “very nice,” I added with a wink.   
“ _That’s_ how you tell me I look good?” he said with mock annoyance, “you say _nice_?” I arched an eyebrow.   
“Try asking me if you look fat, see how that goes.” He chuckled and led me down the hall to Eamon’s office, where he and Teagan were waiting.

“Welcome back,” Teagan said with a wide smile when we entered Eamon’s office. He greeted Alistair with a firm grasp on his shoulder and gave me a slight bow, which I returned.   
“I understand you were successful in gaining the Dalish support against the Blight,” he said and gestured for us to sit.   
“It took some… effort, but yes. The Dalish will uphold their end of the treaty,” I said to Teagan’s back as he poured two glasses of wine.   
“Effort?” Eamon asked as he rose from behind his desk to join us, bowing slightly to Alistair and me.

“The Dalish were suffering from werewolf attacks. So many had gotten infected that the Dalish would not have been able to honour the treaty. Between foregoing their support, thus leaving them to turn or die, and finding a way to break the curse, the choice was fairly easily made. The Keeper of the clan asked us to bring him the heart of the first, a creature called Witherfang. Long story short, the Keeper was the blood mage that created the curse in the first place centuries ago. Fela put on her charm, and convinced him to break the curse. By doing so he would save his clan and lift the curse on the existing werewolves. But it also meant his death,” Alistair explained.   
“A curse lifted and a dead blood mage,” Eamon said grimly, “well done, my boy.” Eamon broke into a half-smile and lifted his glass to Alistair. A glimmer of resentment flashed across Alistair’s face, but he smiled and gave a curt nod. He had not forgotten how the Arl had treated him in his youth, to appease his hysterical wife.

Teagan shook his head and sighed, “you are one scary lady, Fela. Convincing a man to give his life to end the curse he created. He didn’t do that for his own entertainment.” I smiled sweetly at Teagan.   
“He paid a heavy price, I assure you. Though, by his own hand, rather than mine.”   
“What do you mean?” Eamon asked apprehensively.   
“He created the curse because his son and daughter had been taken by a clan of… uncivilised, humans. The son was tortured to death and the daughter was raped and left for dead. Her clan found her in time to save her life, but upon discovering she was pregnant, she took her own life. As an act of revenge, Zathrian bound the spirit of the forest to a direwolf and set the creature upon the humans that had brutalised his children. The curse eradicated the human clan, and those who survived became the werewolves that would be the ancestors to the current pack. The Keeper had suffered many lifetimes of grief for his children. The ritual he performed lifted the curse, and cost him his life, but it ended his suffering,” I explained. I took a swig of wine and absently gazed at the wall behind Eamon.

“Sounds like he didn’t suffer enough,” Eamon replied darkly. I looked at him sharply, fixing my gaze on his.   
“You cannot make that assessment,” I answered in a cool voice, glistening with ice. I watched Eamon go from shocked, to confused, to angry.   
“And you could?” he snapped. I stared him down.   
“Think very hard about what you are going to say next, Lord Guerin.” Alistair noticeably leaned back in his chair.   
“You should trust her on this particular matter, Eamon.” He took a sip of wine, “you weren’t there.” Eamon turned to Alistair.   
“Don’t tell me _you_ sympathise with a blood mage, of all people!” Alistair shook his head.   
“I don’t, I am saying you cannot make that assessment.”   
“I think what they are saying, brother, that it is not for us to judge. The Maker will judge us all,” Teagan offered in an attempt to diffuse the tension.   
“I am saying no such thing,” I said coldly, “I am saying Eamon doesn’t know the full extent of suffering the Keeper went through. Let alone whether it weighs up to his crimes.”   
“I think I have a pretty good idea of the suffering a blood mage can inflict upon a family,” Eamon replied hotly.   
“Indeed. But that is hardly sufficient,” I continued in my cool tones, “it involves a blood mage, yes, but the circumstances were completely different,” I held Eamon’s gaze, “what happened in the Brecillian Forest had nothing to do with any of that. Don’t presume to _know_ a man who has suffered the loss of his family for centuries. Add to that the loss of anyone he became close to after that, not all elves live for centuries you know. How many friends and loved ones has he lost since? How many bodies has he buried? Zathrian was around when humans tried to eradicate the elves, he bore those memories throughout his long life. He deserved to die, and he probably deserved a lot of his later suffering, I’ll give you that. But you cannot say whether he suffered enough or not. You don’t know the _cost_ of his suffering, it didn’t just affect him, but his clan too. Don’t be so quick to judge things you don’t fully comprehend.”

The Arl remained silent, averting his gaze.   
“Anyway,” Alistair said lightly, “the treaties are taken care of. Depending on how things are progressing with the Landsmeet, we are hoping to go to Soldier’s Peak. The old Grey Warden fortress, there might be something there to aid us against the Blight. And it can’t hurt to have a base outside of Denerim.” Teagan smiled at Alistair in relief that he had changed the subject.   
“Not all who have been called have made it to Denerim yet,” he said, “how much time do you think you’d need?”   
“A fortnight, at least. We would need time to search the place,” I replied. Teagan nodded.   
“Sounds reasonable. Are you expecting trouble?”   
“We don’t know, but we’ll prepare for it either way,” I replied.   
“Eamon, your thoughts?” Teagan asked, looking at his brother expectantly.   
“I think there is time, yes. A Grey Warden fortress could prove very convenient if the Landsmeet doesn’t decide in our favour,” Eamon said with a conceding gesture.

“Any news from Magnus?” I asked hopefully.   
“He has gained us support from the Hinterlands, the Blight reached those lands first, it has redirected their attention from Loghain. By now he should be sailing for the Stormcoast to get his troops ready to make for Redcliffe. His forces will be added to the army you have gathered to stop the Blight, and they will offer protection if you need them to,” Eamon replied. I smiled, whatever Magnus had on the Lords of the Hinterlands, it must have been good. He had effectively stolen them away from Loghain, who they had previously been supporting. Our gain was Loghain’s loss. I took pleasure in that.

“Cunning old bear,” I said appreciatively.   
“I have reports from Denerim for you to look at, our sources suggest that the numbers of elves is rapidly decimating. There are also reports on Rendon Howe, and his activities as Arl of Denerim,” Eamon said as he stood and made his way over to his desk.   
“Can’t be much good news then,” Alistair replied darkly.   
“It’s not,” Teagan replied, “it would seem Howe has taken up torture as a hobby. One of our informants can attest to that.” I winched, the man was sick. Always had been, always would be.   
“How is he?” Alistair inquired.   
“ _She,_ ” Teagan said, “and she isn’t doing well. She’ll live, but I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse for the girl.” Alistair briefly shared a dark look with me before turning back to Teagan.   
“See to it that she is taken care of, physically, mentally, _and_ financially,” he spoke in a way that didn’t leave any room for discussion. This was a command, one he was expecting to be obeyed.

“Is she pregnant?” I asked. Torture for women included rape, especially for one that ended up in Howe’s dungeon. Teagan nodded.   
“See to the child too then, as well as the mother. Even if she can’t bear to raise it as her own, I want you to make sure the child has a home. People who will love him, or her. Do _not_ send it to a Chantry, either of them,” I added sharply with a look at Eamon. For a moment he looked as if he was going to protest, but he settled for silence and a stiff nod when he met my eyes. A sharp reminder that I was aware of what he had done to Alistair.

Eamon handed me the reports, and I settled for quietly reading them while Alistair told Eamon and Teagan tales about the Brecillian Forest. I didn’t particularly feel like engaging in conversation with Eamon. And maybe I enjoyed the way he seemed to be extra careful in my presence, treading around me and avoiding saying anything I might take as a slight. Good. It would keep him on his toes and it would come as a relief to him when I turned to a friendlier demeanour towards him. Which I was planning on doing, eventually. I was playing a game with Eamon, letting him think he would eventually get on my good side. But first, he needed to feel he was currently on my bad side. So I remained in the room as I read, occasionally casting a glance up to see him secretly watching me.

The cogs in his mind must be working, I hoped they would be doing some overtime in the upcoming months.

The report on the missing elves was uninformative. According to official reports, it was due to a plague. It didn’t offer much to support or contradict that, only that the Alienage had been closed off. When I read the report on Howe, I noted that it mentioned a riot in the Alienage that had been cut down with severe violence, after which, the Alienage was closed off. Yet there was no mention of this in the other report. I checked the dates, people had started disappearing after the riots. There was nothing to indicate what the riot had been about, if it had been the supposed plague, it wasn’t mentioned. Was it a cover for something else? I recalled the Alienage being closed off when we had been in Denerim, that was quite some time ago. Eamon had still been in a coma.

“Who wrote these reports?” I interrupted. The men all turned their heads to me, I held up the parchment.   
“Who wrote these?” I repeated.   
“Why do you ask?” Eamon replied.   
“I want to know why something that happened months ago, before you issued any orders, has only now reached us. And why two different reports speak of different events that occurred in the same place at around roughly the same time, but neither mentions the other. They don’t contradict but they don’t fit either,” I replied, showing him the passages I was talking about. Teagan leaned towards Eamon to be able to read what it said.   
“This one was written by the girl that had been taken by Howe,” he said, pointing at the report that mentioned the riots.   
“How long has she been in his dungeon?” I asked him.   
“About five months,” Teagan replied.   
“That explains the time gap,” I answered.   
“What about this one?” Eamon asked Teagan, holding up the report that spoke of the plague and decimating numbers of elven citizens.   
“A new recruit,” Teagan said, “I forget his name but our spymaster will know.”   
“Find out when this recruit joined, if this was shortly after the girl was taken prisoner. Keep an eye on the girl too,” Eamon said and Teagan stood to get pen and paper to write down orders.

“How did she get out?” I asked.   
“She killed a guard to get his keys,” Teagan replied.   
“How?” I insisted, “where had she been taken? How did she travel, did she get any help, just _how_ did a pregnant, tortured girl, stripped of her belongings, manage to escape and travel back to Redcliffe?”   
“I’ll get the spy master on that too,” Teagan said and dipped his pen in ink to continue writing.

“Do you think she might have turned?” Eamon asked.   
“Either that, or she’s extremely adept at surviving,” I replied, “in both cases, I want to speak to her.” Teagan nodded.   
“Very well, I will have her brought in. Do you want me to summon her immediately or tomorrow?”   
“Tomorrow morning would be fine, in a courtly fashion,” I replied. No need to manhandle the girl, turned or not. It was too soon to draw any conclusions.

“Well, this should be interesting,” Alistair said, leaning back in his chair and crossing a leg over his knee and looking at me with a raised eyebrow.   
“You should appoint her as your spymaster,” Teagan snickered at Alistair as he wrote.   
“Doesn’t matter which position I appoint her to, she’ll keep things interesting anyway,” Alistair replied.   
“Oh please, it’s entirely possible I am being paranoid and these things have nothing to do with each other,” I said waving the reports.   
“I was referring to-” Teagan scratched his throat loudly to stop Alistair from finishing his sentence. He looked from his uncle, to Eamon, and back to me.   
“Your delightful company in my bed,” Alistair finished dryly. Then he looked at Teagan with a playful glimmer in his eye. Eamon flushed red and tried to look anywhere but at Alistair or me. I chuckled behind my wineglass, partly because I enjoyed making Eamon feel uncomfortable. Teagan sighed.   
“There’s a joke about positions in there,” he said and grinned cheekily. Alistair and I started laughing, and Teagan soon joined in. The Arl excused himself, which only made it funnier.

* * *

Teagan led a young elven woman into my sitting room. She wore her dark hair in a single, thick braid that hung over her shoulder. She had high cheekbones and startlingly green eyes.

“My Lady, this is Daena Nahldir,” Teagan said politely, “mis Daena, this is Lady Fela Cousland of Highever, the acting Commander of the Grey Wardens.” She curtsied.   
“It’s an honour, my Lady.”   
“Please, call me Fela,” I replied and motioned for the girl and Teagan to sit. Deana still bore traces of having been tortured, old bruises, cuts on the skin, and that haunted look.   
“Can I offer you anything? Maybe some tea?” I continued. Exchanging pleasantries was a good way to size this girl up, to watch her before we got to unpleasant topics. She meekly shook her head and mumbled her thanks, Teagan gave a nod and waved for a servant. The girl was getting her tea anyway.

“I need to talk to you about a few things, Daena,” I began and watched for her response before continuing, she briefly glanced up while fidgeting with a loose thread on her sleeve.   
“I am told you have seen Howe’s dungeons from the inside, and managed to escape,” I continued, and Daena gave a stiff nod at the memory.   
“It probably won’t mean much to you from a stranger, but I’m sorry for what happened to you,” the girl glanced up again, sharply this time, rebelliously.   
“I’ve read your report, and I am unclear on some of the details, particularly on how you made your escape. How in the world did you manage that?” Daena gave me another sharp look before averting her gaze, she was saved by a servant bringing the tea and some sweet rolls. I thanked the servant and looked back at Daena as I reached for my tea.   
“Your report said you killed a guard?” She nodded.   
“But you were unarmed, correct?” She shook her head.   
“Not exactly unarmed, my Lady, I had a shiv.”   
“So how did you get it?” Daena took a deep breath.   
“I made it, from a piece of metal, my Lady.”   
“They don’t keep those just lying around in cells, do they?” Daena turned her gaze away from me again and took a deep shuddering breath.   
“Guards liked to… visit me, they were clever enough to leave their weapons outside, but their armor has bits of metal too. They didn’t take that off…” I winched.   
“Pity you only killed one,” I replied darkly. That earned me an inquisitive look.

“So you made a shiv, that must have taken you some time, especially with unannounced ‘visits’ from guards,” I continued.   
“It did,” she replied, “I had to stop working on it for a while because they had broken all my fingers.”   
“Can I see your hands?” I asked and Daena held them out for me to inspect. I frowned when I looked at the crooked fingers.   
“Has a healer seen to this?” I asked. Daena shook her head. I gave Teagan a dark look.   
“Could you get Wynne for me please, I want her to look at this.”

_And in the meantime you had better come up with a damn good excuse to explain why this girl hasn’t been taken to a healer._ I added in my mind. I watched Teagan leave the room, and turned back to Daena.

“Has anyone been looking after you?” I asked as soon as the door closed behind him. She shrugged.   
“I look after myself.”   
“How about medical attention?”   
“I know enough to take care of myself,” Daena replied stiffly.   
“So you come here after months of torture, you give your report, and you are send off on your merry way? No healers, no compensation, no nothing?” I was appalled, Eamon should have been looking after his people. Daena shrugged.   
“You say this as if it surprises you, my Lady.”   
“It does,” I replied, “where I am from, Lords look after their people. We don’t discard them. You’ve done something extraordinary by getting out and making your way here. You could have just run, leave it all behind. If you can escape from Howe’s clutches in the condition you must have been in, you can travel far away from here to start a new life. But here you are. Why is that?” Before Daena could answer, Teagan came back into the room with Wynne.

I introduced them briefly and asked Wynne to see what she could do for Daena.   
“Oh my dear girl,” Wynne sighed when she inspected the damage to her hands. She politely asked Teagan to leave the room with any male servants and got on with examining Daena.   
“Fela dear, would you get my pack from my room? I need the supplies I keep in there,” she asked while inspecting Daena’s hands. I nodded and hurried to the guestrooms. Daena gave me an odd look before I left, but she didn’t say anything. I returned to find Daena lying down on a sofa and Wynne next to her. Wynne was inspecting and old wound on Daena’s thigh.   
“Ah, thank you dear,” Wynne said as I put down her pack next to her, “now go wash up, I’m going to need a pair of extra hands.” I did as I was told.   
“My Lady, there is no need, maybe a servant can help,” Daena began but Wynne shushed her.   
“I’ve been on the road with her for the better part of a year to gather the armies needed to stop the Blight. Sowed her back together on more than one occasion in the field and taught her a few things. I’d rather work with a trusted companion,” Wynne said and laid a gentle hand on Daena’s arm.   
“Don’t let the dress and the title fool you,” I said as I rolled up my sleeves, revealing old bruises, scrapes, and scars, and started scrubbing my hands at a bowl of clean water, “I am technically a fugitive.”   
“And Teyrna of Highever but you insist on acting the renegade Grey Warden Commander,” Wynne added crisply. Daena looked from me to Wynne and back, shook her head and lay back down.   
“So you’re the one he’s after then,” she said quietly, “now I see why you’ve invited me here.”

“Let’s save that for later, you need proper medical care first,” I said as I knelt down next to Wynne, inspecting the wound on Daena’s thigh. It was a long, deep cut, the kind that needed stitches, and it was infected. I sucked in air through my teeth.   
“Looks like someone forgot to remove their dagger from their belt,” I said darkly, Daena squirmed a little under my touch.   
“We’ll have to reopen the wound, clean it out, and stitch it,” Wynne said as she laid out her materials.   
“Wonderful,” Daena said sardonically. I quirked up at her sharp comment and gave her a sideways glance and smile.   
“Just get it over with,” the elven girl said and turned away. I gave a nod.   
“One thing at a time, an infection is a bigger threat than broken fingers at the moment.” Wynne moved to get ready while I positioned myself so I could keep Daena down if she struggled.   
“Sorry about this, but Wynne really needs you to stay still, lest she cuts in the wrong place. If you want us to stop, you yell ‘orange’ ok?” Daena arched an eyebrow.   
“’Orange?’” she said slowly.   
“Or something else that you wouldn’t naturally yell when you’re in pain. It’ll leave you free to curse and swear,” I replied. Daena gave a shrug and a nod.   
“You’ve treated torture victims before?”   
“Not exactly, but I know pain,” I replied. Daena was keeping her face impassive, but I could _see_ her pulse racing in her throat.   
“Are you ready?” Wynne asked. Daena gave a sharp nod, and then she screamed.

* * *

Daena was panting and sweating, recovering from the painful treatment for her leg. I put a blanket around her shoulders and gave her a cup of water before I started helping Wynne clean up the mess.

I caught Daena sneaking glances at me, and the revealed scars and bruises on my arms. Wynne gave her a healing potion and another cup of water to wash down the taste. The remaining cuts faded, and she looked a bit stronger. Daena inspected her thigh, now covered in clean bandages, and felt at it tentatively.

“Does that feel better?” I asked and sat down in front of her. She gave a nod.   
“Yes, thank you, my Lady.” I chuckled.   
“I told you, you can just call me Fela. Especially after the things I’ve heard coming out of your mouth a few moments ago.” Daena blushed and looked away.   
“Oh, don’t feel embarrassed, Fela has an equally colourful vocabulary. Maker knows I’ve had to listen to her ranting,” Wynne said with a grandmotherly smile and put a hand on my arm.   
“Oh, Fela, have you been scratching this? I told you not to scratch it!” Wynne said when she noticed one of the cuts on my arm had a fresh scab.   
“Yeah well, you try to keep your hands off of something that itches twenty-four hours a day,” I retorted. Wynne shook her head, mumbling something about young people. Daena, obviously unsure of what to make of the exchange, had resumed fidgeting with the loose thread on her sleeve.

“Let me look at your hands dear,” Wynne said and reached out.   
“Hmm… I could restore this,” she began, “but the magic would have to rebreak the bones so they can heal properly. But they aren’t an immediate threat to your health. So, perhaps not today?” Daena gave Wynne a tired smile.   
“It would only hurt for a moment right? If you heal it right afterwards I mean.” Wynne nodded.   
“Do it now,” Daena said, “the less I am reminded of that dungeon, the better.” Wynne and I exchanged a look.

“About that,” I began, “I was told you are with child.” Daena’s ears went red and her cheeks flushed, she tried to speak but I held up a hand.   
“If you wish to keep the child, I will see it is looked after whether you choose to raise it or not. If you wish to end the pregnancy, this can be arranged. No questions asked. If anyone asks, you lost the baby due to injury and stress. But I want you to be able to make your own choice in this, so I will give you the means to do so,” I added. Daena looked at me for a long moment.   
“What do you want from me?” she asked slowly.   
“To buy off my own guilt of course,” I replied with an innocent look, “that’s how us noble ladies do it.” Daena looked at my arms again and back up to my face, she narrowed her eyes. 

“Look, you seem like an intelligent woman. You did something that should not have been possible. And I want to know how you did it. And to be honest with you, I’m more than a little displeased with the Arl for not looking after you properly when you have given him your service. He should know better. You were getting information on his orders, it’s his job to look after you if you sustain trauma or injury on the job. Loyalty should be repaid with loyalty, he neglected that,” I said honestly.

“I know how this must look, a noble Lady invited you for a talk, sees to your injuries, makes all kinds of nice promises, she must want something. You’re right, she does, I want all the details that weren’t in that report. And if you’re up for it, I would like you to join my service. You’ve shown you have true grit, and you couldn’t have made it back here without a hell of a lot of skill. Other informants could learn from you. If you choose not to, I will see to it you are looked after and can start a new life. With, or without a child,” I explained.

“And how do you know Howe didn’t get me to defect? That I didn’t talk?” Daena asked sharply.   
“Everyone talks under torture, the victim will say what the torturer wants to hear whether it’s true or not. Because the short term goal of stopping the pain is that much more important in that moment, it’s just what people do. And besides, you couldn’t have given him any information on me, you were taken before I even made it to Denerim, and that was months ago. There have been plenty of new developments. And if you’re planting false information, I’ll know. In which case we will cut you out of our network and send you on your way. But my offers still stand. You will be given the means to start a new life, and you will not come to harm,” I replied.   
“Why?” She asked with a confused look. I shrugged.   
“I don’t get off on hurting people, and I don’t rely on torture to get my answers. And if Arl Eamon wants to keep me as an ally, which he does, he won’t either. This isn’t charity, Daena, this is me trying to stop a Blight and overthrowing a tyrant busy waging civil war in the process. And if you’re well informed, you already know why.”

Daena sat quietly for a moment, studying me.   
“You make an awful lot of promises,” she finally said. I nodded.   
“Many of these things lie in the future, and they depend on your choices. For now, why don’t you give me the details on how you escaped first. Give you a while to recollect before Wynne sees to your hands,” I turned to Wynne, “I suppose you need to recharge for a bit? Will you be needing lyrium?” Wynne shook her head.   
“A couple of minutes would be plenty.” Daena nodded and began explaining.

“When I had finished the shiv, I waited for a guard to pass by. Acted small and vulnerable, showed a bit of leg and a bit of shoulder,” she moved on the sofa to show how she had sat in her cell.   
“He came into the cell, and I let him come in close. Then waited for an opening to cut his throat,” she pointed where she had cut the guard, and I was pleased to note she was indeed pointing to the area you would go for if you wanted a quiet kill.   
“I left him in my cell, under a blanket to conceal most of the mess. I took his weapons and his keys, locked the cell behind me and looked for the armoury. I knew where it was from when they had brought me in. And I had plenty of time to watch the guard rounds. It was guarded by two men, I slipped in after creating a distraction, and came out in a servant’s uniform. Bluffed my way through the dungeon, and managed to slip out.”   
“Which estate were you on?” I inquired.   
“The Arl of Denerim’s estate, I used a side door,” she replied.   
“What was your condition?”   
“Bruised, battered, cut, and starved. So I ditched some of the uniform, pulled off any crests, put the tunic inside out, and tore off the sleeves. Rubbed some dirt on it, made a few extra cuts and tears in the breeches, made myself look ragged. And went to get my bug out bag, I kept one hidden in the city in case of an emergency.”   
“Clever.”   
“I patched myself up, waited until nightfall, and left the city through a smugglers passage. I’d rather not give up that one, if you don’t mind.”   
“Of course, now, the road back to Redcliffe is far from safe at the moment. So how did you make it on your own?”   
“I went cross country, stayed off the roads. Any darkspawn I encountered, I hid from, they’re not very bright. I know how to hide if I need to, and I cover my tracks. I got on a boat in the nearest town, it might leave a trail but the traveling was much safer. I used a fake name and cover story, rather than singling myself out by keeping to myself, I made sure a couple of them knew my fake name and cover story. Pretended like I was fine, rather than hurt and on the run. Got off when we docked in Redcliffe, and came to the castle. I’m currently staying with an old friend I can trust.”

I leaned back to go over her story in my head. She had been well prepared to run if she needed to, which explained a lot. But not everything.

“Who taught you to prepare like that?” I asked.   
“My mother actually, you could call it the family trade. She’d been in the Arl’s service since before I was born,” Daena replied. I could easily have Teagan check that.   
“How did you manage to sneak through a dungeon full of guards?” I asked and Daena chuckled.   
“It would seem your replacement as Teyrna of Highever has a tendency to seek out people who should be _inside_ those cells, to guard them. To say they were poorly trained and undisciplined would be an understatement,” Daena answered, “a few of them were busy playing cards and were paying no attention to the hall. Another was passed out drunk. Two more were well on their way, and paying more attention to their conversation than their surroundings. I caused a distraction by nicking the coin purse of one of the drunk guards, he accused the other, and the drink did the rest.”   
“Impressive, you know how to think on your feet,” Wynne remarked. I nodded.   
“It couldn’t have been easy.”   
“It wasn’t,” Daena shrugged, “I did what I needed to, it was the only way to survive.”

“So why come back here rather than go elsewhere to start a new life?” I asked curiously. The girl knew a trade that would be sought after in any part of Thedas, it wasn’t a trade one usually enjoyed a lot, but it was a living. Daena’s face grew hard.   
“What makes you think I’m not still planning on doing so?”   
“They don’t rule each other out, I’ll give you that. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here now,” I replied, “don’t dodge the question.” The corner of Daena’s mouth quirked up.   
“Why are you so interested?”   
“Because I get the feeling it isn’t out of a sense of duty, that’s more of an excuse for something else,” I answered. Daena started twirling the end of her braid.   
“Where did you get that idea?”   
“I have a knack for these things, and anyone with a brain can tell you don’t need the Arl’s protection if you can bust out of Howe’s dungeon. You’d probably be able to outrun him as well. For a time. But you’re still taking a risk, being here. And you’re staying awfully close to what got you into Howe’s dungeon in the first place. So what are you getting out of it?”   
“Not spending a life on the run?” Daena offered half-heartedly, “to get payed? Some sympathy for my suffering and a pat on the back?” I raised an eyebrow.   
“A question for a question then,” the mad hermit popped up in my mind, “why are you unwilling to tell me?”

Daena paused, then sighed.   
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”   
“Unfortunately,” I replied.   
“Honestly, and stupidly, I want some justice to be done. I am just so… _angry._ ”   
“Rightly so,” I replied.   
“Do you intend to use that to goad me into joining your service?” she asked.   
“No. This is enough. But I do want to tell you something,” I said slowly, “even if I wanted to, I could never promise you the satisfaction of killing Rendon Howe. That job is already taken, and it is very personal. Because if Howe has his way, I end up in that dungeon. And he has already had a lot of his way. When he murdered my parents, burned my home, slaughtered my friends and family, and robbed me of everything and everyone I ever had but for the armor I wore and the swords I carried when I left my parents behind to die. The Couslands always do their duty, as they say.” Understanding flashed across Daena’s face.   
“Well lucky me, a kindred spirit,” she replied dryly, “am I supposed to sympathize with you now?” I burst out laughing at her reaction.   
“No, if I were you, I’d not let the opportunity to kill Howe be taken away from me. But I am not you. I am just making sure you know what my intentions are, I ask you to let me have this kill. But I won’t stop you if you try to go after him on your own.” Daena thought for a moment.   
“You are a very strange Shem,” she finally said, “very well, as long as I get to take out any pig that has laid his filthy hands on me. With the exception of one Rendon Howe.”   
“Marvellous,” I replied, “you have my thanks.”

“If you’re ready, I can see to your hands now,” Wynne said with a warm smile. Daena nodded.  
“Do you need me to sit anywhere?”   
“No, dear, you can stay seated,” Wynne said and moved to sit next to Daena on the sofa.

“Give me your hands,” Wynne said as she held out hers, “take a deep breath.” Wynne’s hands started to glow, and Daena’s face contorted in pain. After a few shrieks and audible clicks, Wynne broke the spell. She watched as Daena flexed her fingers and let out a sigh of relief, the scars on her hands remained, but Wynne had mended bone and sinew, restoring Daena’s hands to full use.

“Gods, it was hard to pick pockets when my hands were mangled like that,” she blurted out. Then she looked up at Wynne and me with wide eyes, shocked at her own comment. I snickered.   
“If you picked my pocket, you earned your prize. If you picked Teagan’s pocket…” I pretended to think about it, “you should keep your prize. But in Wynne’s case I would ask you to return the spoils.” Daena blushed and returned two hook needles, a healing poultice, some bandages, and a healing potion. I looked over her loot appreciatively.   
“Good choice.”   
“I used up most of the medical supplies in my bug out bag,” she said with a shrug. “You don’t even have any pockets to pick,” she continued, “unless you count that false seam that allows access to the knife strapped to your leg. The old man… let’s just say he has been relieved of some weight.” I snickered while Wynne gave Daena a disapproving, grandmotherly look. I left Wynne and Daena to discuss her pregnancy, promised I would return to speak to Daena later, and made my way to the great hall.

Teagan and Alistair sat by the fire, “you look like you’ve made a new friend,” Alistair said when he saw me approach.   
“Possibly,” I replied, “Teagan, I need you to check who Daena’s mother was and if she was in the Arl’s service before Daena was born. Anything on the other recruit yet?” Teagan scowled into the fire.   
“He appears to have fled once he learned Daena had made it back to Redcliffe.” I arched an eyebrow.   
“Really? That’s painfully obvious. She’s with Wynne now, until our escapee has been found and caught, I want her guarded, here, in the castle. She’s free to come and go as she pleases, but I want someone appointed to her as a guard. Preferably a woman. I think she’s had enough of male guards.” Teagan nodded.   
“I’ll get on it.” He started to get up and leave, I let him get halfway through the hall before I called after him.   
“Oh and Teagan, please remind Eamon of what we discussed concerning this girl’s well-being. And Inform him Wynne has already seen to her injuries,” I added lightly. Just enough to make it clear I was not impressed with how the two men had handled things since her arrival.

“You have been dominating this castle,” Alistair said quietly with a sly grin when Teagan had left the hall.   
“You should take note, amigo,” came Zevran’s voice from the other end of the hall. It only then occurred to me that he must have incredibly sensitive ears to hear Alistair’s comment from that far.   
“You’ll soon have to do the same,” Zevran added as he walked towards us and sat down. He then turned to me, “you’ve been busy, haven’t you?”   
“Whatever do you mean?” I said innocently.   
“You’ve got Teagan running and the Arl pulling his hair out because he doesn’t know how to deal with you,” Zevran said casually and sat down.   
“Oh? And how do you know?” I asked with a sweet smile. Zevran gave a casual shrug.   
“I enjoy watching you work.”   
“Uh-huh,” I said sardonically, “right, watching me ‘work’.” Alistair chuckled.   
“As do I.” I shook my head at them.   
“When do you think we’re ready to go to Soldier’s Peak?” I asked Alistair. He had been in charge of making arrangements for the journey, and to man the fort if we were able to use it.

“Tomorrow, maybe even tonight if you _really_ want to get out of here,” he replied, “a contingent of dwarven soldiers will follow us up to the Peak. Enough to man the fort if we need to, but not too many that the relocation will be felt here in Redcliffe. I’ve got several craftsmen among them to take stock of repairs, let’s not assume this fort is in perfect state after centuries of abandonment. Levi indicated the fort looked to be in reasonable shape from the outside, so I’m not too worried we’ll find a ruin. Bodahn will be following us as well, he’ll lead the soldiers to the Peak when they arrive. Levi mentioned it was difficult to navigate the tunnels and caves if you don’t know where you’re going.” I nodded appreciatively.

We continued chatting for a while, until Teagan returned. Daena’s mother had indeed been in the service of the Arl before she had her daughter, as a member of his spy network.

Figuring that enough time had passed, I went back to check on Daena and Wynne. They were drinking tea and quietly chatting when I came in. Daena asked for more time to think on the offer I had made her. She made no mention about her baby. I would gladly have her if she had decided to keep the child, but for her, this was something she needed to figure out before she could give me an answer. I informed her that we’d be leaving on the morrow. I decided not to give her any details but told her to speak to Teagan if she needed a message delivered.

I also warned Teagan and Eamon to put anything containing sensitive information under lock and key. Just to be sure. Daena seemed like the kind of girl to cause all kinds of mischief, even if I was fairly certain I could trust her. But I didn’t think she was above snooping around a bit, this girl knew the value of information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I did it again, I came up with a new character. After introducing Magnus, I found I liked writing the new dialogue. It let's me expand Fela's character. Also, Daena will eventually become a recurring character. This story isn't exactly finished, but that's just because I kept going after wrapping up the Blight. I have so much more text to revise and upload, I'm going to be at it for a while longer.


	44. Hysterical cave-man behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on their way to Soldier's Peak, the group makes a stop at Kinloch Hold.

I closed the door behind me quietly, closed my eyes, and leaned against it for a moment before moving further into the room.

Daena had given me the remaining details of what Howe had been occupying his time with. None of it was good. Well, I guess it was good in the sense that we’d have plenty of angles to work from. Howe had been dragging people off to his dungeon indiscriminately. Oh sure, some of them were strategic prisoners, Daena had heard the guards talking. But the majority of the prisoners weren’t there for any particular reason. Other than Howe’s personal indulgencies, that is. Daena claimed there never was a plague in the Alienage, but she couldn’t give me an answer on why Howe would raze it.

She also mentioned Vaughan Kendells, who was supposedly killed during an elven uprising in the Alienage. His body however, was never found. While it was possible he had been thrown into the river with a bag of stones around his neck, I decided that if there was no body, there was no crime. Vaughan had been an entitled little monster in his youth, mostly because no one ever told him ‘no’. And when someone did, he did not take it well. This, I knew from personal experience.

I had enough of tales of sadistic men and their activities. I also had enough of coercing and manipulating for the day. So my dress and breastband came off and the bedding was dumped in front of the fire. I asked a servant to get me a bottle of wine, and I slipped into one of Alistair’s shirts. I liked how they smelled like him, and being too big for me, it easily slipped off my shoulders. Anyone walking in who was not Alistair would just have to deal with it. Smart people knocked before entering. And the girl that Isolde had assigned to see to my and Alistair’s comforts was professional enough to act as if I was doing nothing unladylike at all. I thanked her for putting up with me every time we were in Redcliffe, and the girl just smiled.

“My Lady, all people are just people behind closed doors. Don’t mind me.” With that, she left. I liked her. I settled for slowly getting drunk and lost in the book I had traded with the mad hermit.

It wasn’t long before Alistair came into the room. Unfortunately, he was accompanied by the Arl.   
“Well, good evening,” I said dryly from my basking spot by the fire, not bothering to look embarrassed or ashamed.   
“M-my Lady,” Eamon stuttered, “I- was not aware…” I looked at Alistair and raised an eyebrow, asking what the Arl was doing here. As I turned my gaze to Alistair, I saw the Arl take stock of the scars on my exposed skin from the corner of my eye.   
“It’s rude to stare,” I told him and went back to the book I had been reading. The Arl flushed red and averted his gaze.   
“I apologize,” he said quickly.   
“You’re allowed to ask how I got them though,” I replied, flipping a page.   
“Got by what, my Lady?” Eamon said while staring at wall with fierce determination.   
“The scars, don’t play coy,” I replied.   
“Ah…” he said and gulped, “er… Alistair, perhaps we should speak some other time. Please excuse me.” I watched the Arl go with a poorly concealed smirk on my face. Alistair shook his head as he closed the door behind the Arl.

“How is _he_ the one that’s embarrassed while _you’re_ the one who isn’t clothed properly,” he said as he turned the lock.   
“Because I’ve received medical attention in the field numerous times and privacy and propriety don’t matter much when you’re bleeding out,” I said and looked up at Alistair, “plus, I’m a lot younger than he is, and female. And I may be slightly tipsy,” I added and held up my now half empty wine bottle. Alistair shook his head and chuckled.   
“He is absolutely clueless on how to handle you, you know that?” he said as he turned around to look me over.

“That’s my shirt,” he added matter-of-factly. I looked down.   
“Is it? How did that happen,” I said playfully.   
“And you tell Eamon not to play coy,” Alistair replied with a lop-sided grin as he joined me in my heap of pillows and blankets.   
“Yeah, but I’m adorable so I can get away with it,” I said playfully and planted a wine flavoured kiss on his lips before sitting up to straddle him.   
“Is that so?” Alistair replied, sliding his hands up to my hips. I made big pleading eyes.   
“You don’t think I’m adorable?” I asked innocently. He chuckled.   
“We both know you’re the devil incarnate.”   
“Oh, and you’re the face of innocence are you? Prompting Isolde to ramble on about babies each chance you get,” I replied indignantly and ran my hands over his chest to start undoing the buttons of his shirt. He flashed an impish grin.   
“You’re the one who keeps saying I’m baby-crazy. I thought I might show you what that _really_ looks like.”   
“Point taken,” I assented, and moved the fabric of his shirt out of the way, gaining access to the skin on his chest.

I leaned down to kiss him again, he met my lips eagerly and slapped my behind. I pulled back and gave him a sideways look.   
“Was that for stealing your shirt?” I purred before kissing my way down his neck.   
“No, that was for being a sassy little minx,” he replied, and slapped my ass again, harder this time. A pleasured yelp escaped from my lips.   
“ _That,_ was for stealing my shirt,” he added.   
“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” I purred into his ear and squeezed one of his nipples between my fingers, hard. Alistair yelped and nearly threw me off.

“Ow! Bloody blast it woman!” I let myself roll off as I laughed hysterically at Alistair’s reaction, giddy with the pleasant buzz from the wine. He soon joined my laughter as he rubbed his pinched nipple. It earned me a few more slaps on my ass, earning Alistair a few more pleasured yelps.   
“So it _is_ like that,” I snickered and looked up at him mischievously.

Alistair’s eyes were dark with lust as he gazed down on me and grabbed hold of my ass with one hand, his fingertips excruciatingly close to my entrance.   
“You’ve earned yourself a spanking, young lady,” he said sternly. I felt my face flush with anticipation and arousal radiate outward from my centre.   
“I’ve been naughty, haven’t I?” I replied huskily, letting the wine do the talking. Then nearly burst out giggling again when I remembered this was exactly the kind of role-playing Zevran had been talking about the other day. The Templar disciplining the naughty rogue. Just not an elven one in this case. Alistair’s stern look broke into an amused grin.

“How many times have I told you, you need more discipline,” he said and slapped my ass again. I sucked air in through my teeth as I looked up at him defiantly.   
“Please Ser, I didn’t mean no disrespect,” I replied in a teasing tone. Another slap.   
“Don’t play coy with me,” he answered and slapped my other cheek.   
“Hmm, shouldn’t I, though? Ser?” I purred, gazing up at him through half lidded eyes.

Alistair sat up, pressed one hand down on the small of my back and slipped my panties down with the other. He brushed his fingers along my flesh gently before hitting me again. I cried out as his palm connected with my flesh repeatedly. Brushing the glowing skin with his fingertips to leave trails of fire in between strikes. I was amazed by how turned on I was. I knew I liked it, but to have my lusts stirred so strongly by nothing but the roleplaying and the spanking, was something new. Alistair seemed to have reached the same conclusion, and leaned down for a kiss that bespoke his new found desire, hard and hungry.

He let a hand slide between my thighs from behind, carefully trailing along my lips to find I was already soaking wet.   
“Are you enjoying your discipline?” he whispered in my ear.   
“Maker, yes!” I moaned when I felt his fingertips brush my pearl, his palm pressed firmly to my buttocks.   
“Good girl,” he whispered. Suddenly, his hand was gone and connected once more with the already red, glowing flesh of my ass.

Alistair pulled me up for another lingering, hungry kiss. I reached to unlace his pants, sucking on his lower lip and pressing myself against him. He took hold of my wrists.

“I don’t recall giving you permission.” I licked my lips and smiled challengingly, attempting to twist away from his hold.   
“Are you loving this as much as I am?” I asked huskily. Alistair responded by tightening his grip and crushing his lips against mine, using his grip on my wrists to pull me close so he could hold them both with one hand. The other gripped my hair tightly, pulling my head back to give him access to my throat. I shuddered as he trailed hot kisses across the skin. He let go of my wrists to unlace his pants himself, pulling himself free from the fabric. I quickly pulled off the shirt I was wearing, and Alistair did the same before pulling me into another demanding kiss. His pants and smalls went next.

I was thrown onto my hands and knees and Alistair resumed the ‘discipline.’ Eliciting more cries from my lips and making my toes curl with pleasure. He was hitting all the right spots from that angle, reducing me to a mewling mess within minutes. He stopped to turn me around to pull me towards him, but didn’t let me sit up. Instead, he brushed his cock against my lips.

“Show me what a good girl you are,” he demanded, and I obliged happily by kissing his tip and running my tongue along his length while looking up at him. He closed his eyes and groaned before letting me push him down to lie back. I let my hands roam his stomach as he leaned back, tracing the outlines of his muscles back down to his cock. I resisted the urge to mount him and ride him into oblivion, instead gently sucking as I inched my lips down his shaft. He groaned and tangled his fingers in my hair, looking down to watch me taking in his full length.

He groaned, cursed, and begged as I bobbed my head up and down, swirling my tongue around his tip before each slow descend. I played, and I teased with my lips and tongue until he couldn’t take any more, throbbing and aching for the release I wasn't giving him. He would have to come and take it himself.

He did. Pulling me up by my hair, rolling to lie on top of me and entering me with one smooth motion. My cry was muffled by his devouring kiss. Supporting himself on one arm, and one hand tightly gripping my hip, he pressed in deep and stayed there for a moment. Savouring the feeling of my heat clenched around him, before moving with slow, deliberate strokes.

My hands roamed his shoulders and arms, aching to pull him closer, to feel more of him. Alistair’s hand slid down my hip and to the back of my leg, pressing it up so I could hold my legs together for him. I gasped at this new angle and the feeling of my walls tightly pressed around his length. I licked my fingers and let them slide down my stomach, holding Alistair’s gaze, to rub my clit. With my other hand I kneaded the flesh of one of my breasts, rolling the nipple in between my fingers. I moaned and writhed under the storm of sensations he was eliciting from my body.

Alistair’s eyes went even darker as he pounded into me, bringing the both of us to a mind shattering climax. It hit like a tidal wave, sweeping over us both. I sang out my pleasure for him, begging him not to stop until I broke into a million pieces. I felt him swell, erupt, and cease. Groaning, he shook and relaxed. Looking down on me with a smile, he moved my legs so he could wrap his arms around me and nuzzle my neck.

“Oh, my… _fuck…_ ” I panted. Alistair chuckled.   
“Are you trying to tell me you liked it?” he whispered in my ear. I settled for nodding. I felt him smile against my neck and kiss it. I closed my eyes, revelling in the afterglow of my orgasm and the feeling of Alistair’s body next to mine. I sank into a deep state of bliss, drifting away to sleep.

* * *

I woke up in the bed. Alistair must have carried me there.

He had an arm draped across my belly, lying flat on his stomach, sprawled over the mattress. Still, asleep, as usual, I noticed with a smile. I watched him sleep for a while, listening to his steady breathing. He looked peaceful. I decided to let him enjoy his sleep for a while longer and stayed where I was. I moved one hand to stroke his hair, gently, so I wouldn’t wake him up. To let him enjoy his peace just a little longer before we left for Soldier’s Peak.

And maybe to allow myself to enjoy this just a little longer. Having him all to myself in the relative safety of Redcliffe Castle where we didn’t need to worry about being ambushed in the middle of the night. Where we enjoyed proper meals and warm, soft beds. Where we could afford to let out guard down. In part, at least.

Alistair stirred and opened his eyes, he smiled and stretched when he saw me watching him.   
“Good morning,” he said sleepily and pulled me a little closer to him.   
“Good morning,” I replied and rolled onto my side to hook one of my legs around one of his and gently stroke his back.   
“Sleep well?” I asked as I drew slow patterns across his skin.   
“Mm-hmm,” came his contented reply as he sighed and closed his eyes. His face pressed softly against my breasts, where I cradled his head. We fell into a comfortable silence. I admired the way the light of the morning sun played on the colour of his hair, turning it a deep, reddish gold.

“You know how many women would kill for the colour of your hair?” I whispered absently. Alistair broke into a lazy grin.   
“Why do you think I’m so fond of my hair,” he said with his eyes still closed. I chuckled and ran a hand through it.   
“You’re justifiably cocky about it,” I replied.   
“I’m going to remember that,” he said with a soft laugh.

“Can I ask you something?” Alistair said after a brief silence?   
“Is it something dirty?” I asked with a smirk. Alistair chuckled again.   
“No, nothing dirty.”   
“Can we make it dirty?” I retorted playfully. Alistair turned red and started snickering uncontrollably.

“I suppose, but it would be more weird than dirty.”   
“Oh, now I’m _really_ curious,” I replied and looked at him expectantly.   
“I was wondering, if I could brush your hair,” he finally said. I paused for a moment before I burst out laughing.   
“Ok, wow. Yes, that would be more weird than dirty if we tried to make it so.”   
“So? What do you say?” Alistair asked.   
“Of course you can brush my hair,” I said with a smile and kissed the top of his head.

“You don’t think it’s weird?” he asked.   
“You’re talking about the hair on my head, right?” I said with a sideways look. Alistair chuckled.   
“Yes, of course.”   
“Then, no,” I replied, “why would it be weird?”   
“I don’t know, why isn’t it weird?” Alistair retorted. I chuckled.   
“Ok, you win. Want me to get my brush?”   
“In a minute, this is nice,” Alistair replied, nuzzling my breasts. I chuckled again and held him a little closer.   
“Silly of me, asking a man if he is ready to get his face out from between a pair of boobs.”   
“Now you’re generalising,” Alistair replied.   
“Am I, though?” I retorted. He chuckled.   
“Not as far as I know.”

* * *

Altogether too soon, we had to tear ourselves away from the blissful peace of the bed to get ready for the journey to Soldier’s Peak. We made good time traveling north, as we were moving away from where the Blight had been tainting the land.

Arl Eamon’s horses served us well. After three days of travel, we made it to Kinloch Hold. When I had gone there with only Wynne and Alistair, we had made far better time. But, though the roads were safer the further north we got, they weren’t easier to travel with a large group during winter. Zevran was having a tough time of it, he didn’t possess any clothes suited for cold weather. He never had need of them in Antiva. So now he rode, wrapped up in his blanket, sipping from a hip flask to keep warm.

“Fela,” Wynne called as we left our horses at the stable of the Spoiled Princess.   
“If you don’t mind, I have an errand to run at the Circle Tower.”   
“Sure, what is it? Do you need any help?” I asked as I affectionally petted my black stallion’s neck.   
“Oh, it’s nothing dangerous,” Wynne explained, “I met a girl in Orzammar, Dagna. I promised her I would speak to Irving on her behalf.”   
“What does a dwarven girl want from the First Enchanter?” I asked curiously.   
“She wants to study magic,” Wynne smiled fondly, “she has no illusions about having magical talent, she just wishes to study it. The Circle could benefit from her knowledge about folding lyrium, she’s from the smith caste. And Orzammar in turn could benefit from the knowledge of the Circle.”   
“Well, you guys handle lyrium there pretty often, I imagine it would also be very convenient to have someone on hand who is immune to its effects,” I said thoughtfully.   
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Wynne mused, “she would be able to work with the substance without being exposed to the same risks.”   
“One more argument in her favour then,” I replied, “I’ll go with you.”   
“Thank you dear, it shouldn’t take long,” Wynne said and shouldered her bag.   
“I imagine you would want to check up on some people, the Tower is your home, after all,” I said and fell into step beside her.   
“I… Thank you,” Wynne gave me a fond smile and gently squeezed my hand.   
“Looks like my favourite boatman is on duty,” I smirked as we approached the docks. It was the man I had bullied into giving us passage when we first arrived, at the time of the ‘abysmal freakshow.’ Wynne raised her eyebrows questioningly.   
“You know Ser Carroll?”   
“Not in the way that you think,” I replied and grinned when Ser Carroll paled a little when he locked eyes with me.

“M’Lady Warden,” he said nervously.   
“Ser,” I said with a polite nod.   
“Will you be needing passage?” he asked, straightening a little.   
“Please,” I replied, and followed him to the boat. Wynne greeted the young man warmly. To which he responded cold and distant. Alistair had said that Templars worked hard to keep their charges at a safe emotional distance. Simply because that made things easier should they be forced to kill one of them. It also prevented any too friendly relations between mages and Templars from developing. Half of the time, they seemed like grim statues hovering about any room they were guarding. The other half, they showed open hostility. Wynne ignored it though, refusing to be intimidated by Carroll’s attitude. I took some form of obstinate pleasure in that.

We spent the early afternoon visiting people Wynne wanted to check in on. Amongst them were several children, and they loved Wynne like she was their grandmother. But there was a fierceness to it, a desperate need.

_Fear?_

It spoke volumes about the social climate of the Tower. A confining structure housing two groups of people who feared one another, and one group holding significantly more rights and authority. A prison. All because the Chantry fears magic and its power. For Wynne, coming to the Circle Tower had been a blessing, a roof over her head, regular meals, and a bed to sleep in. But for many others, who had homes and loving families, it meant isolation and loss of freedom. They weren’t even allowed to write home.

So, naturally, I covertly offered to take any messages to Denerim or other places on our route. Not for gold, though it was offered. I did it as an act of rebellion, and because I felt it was inhumane to cut people off from their families like that. And because I liked sticking it to the Chantry. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to make some more friends at the Tower. I met a man named Anders, who had apparently escaped on several occasions but was caught each time. I would have offered him a place with the Grey Wardens, even gone as far as conscripting him, if he had wanted me to.

But the time wasn’t right. I couldn’t play games like that until the Blight had been stopped. And he didn’t seem like the type to devote his life to the Order. He didn’t show any interest in joining the Grey Wardens, neither did he ask about it. What he did ask about was how things were outside the Tower. Whether the roads were safe, if it was easy to get supplies, if I knew about any refugee routes, that sort of thing. Which sounded to me, like he was planning another escape.

“So, you know anything about the different schools of magic?” Anders inquired curiously. I raised an eyebrow.   
“Well, I know of the healing domain, spirit magic, entropy, primal magic… The schools that are taught here,” I began, “but that isn’t what you’re asking me about, is it?” Anders gave a lopsided smile and widened his eyes innocently.   
“Why, what do think it is I am asking about?” he said and Wynne rolled her eyes.   
“You are going to get yourself in trouble again, son,” she said sternly. He smirked.   
“I am always in trouble. What’s the harm in asking a Grey Warden what types of magic she may have seen among her ranks? I ask from an academic standpoint.”   
“Well, technically, there are currently only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden. And neither of us have magic. My fellow Warden has been trained as a Templar though, but don’t let that scare you off, he was never good Chantry material, if you catch my meaning,” I replied with a slight smile. Anders eyed me up and down appreciatively.   
“I think I know _exactly_ what you mean.” I shook my head and snickered a little.   
“Seriously though, is it safe to talk of magic that the Chantry doesn’t approve of here?” I looked around to see two Templars quietly scanning the room, constantly looking for any sign of a threat. Anders shrugged.   
“Just keep smiling and keep your voice down.”

I looked at Wynne for a brief moment, “perhaps you should go on ahead to see Irving,” I said reassuringly, “we’ll be fine.” Wynne hesitated for a moment, but then nodded and left in the direction of Irving’s office.

“Different schools of magic you say,” I said, turning back to Anders, “I’ve seen a few things that aren’t taught here, according to Wynne at least.”   
“And what is your standpoint on these different schools of magic as a Grey Warden?” Anders asked in a casual tone, as if he was asking me about my political opinion on the levy taxes.   
“I don’t feel very strongly one way or another about the schools of magic themselves,” I replied.   
“Ah, you’re one of those. Wonderful,” Anders said with a playful gleam in his eye.   
“One of what?” I asked.   
“It’s not the magic that’s evil, it’s what the people do with it, that’s what you’re saying, right? Blame the person, not the tool,” Anders clarified.   
“That is over-simplifying things, but sure,” I said hesitantly.   
“So, you don’t really care if the Chantry approves or not,” Anders continued.   
“I guess,” I replied.   
“Well, that’s good. You see, I am of a similar mind, though I won’t cross certain lines myself,” Anders continued, “glad we cleared that up. You were saying?”   
“Well, aside from encountering blood magic a few times, I witness shape-changing magic on a regular basis,” I replied.   
“Shape changing you say?” Anders said excitedly, “what shapes?”   
“A hawk, a cat, a wolf, a giant spider, pretty much any kind of wild animal you’d find here in Ferelden. Even a high dragon once, though that particular shape changer was something of an anomaly,” I said, smiling as Anders got ever more excited.   
“Imagine the freedom that comes with possessing that kind of magic,” Anders said with a sigh.   
“I am told such magic is not uncommon in the far corners of the world, though I would avoid going south into the Korkari Wilds if I were you,” I replied.   
“Ah, my Lady, I’m not going anywhere,” Anders said courteously, “it’s the Tower’s hospitality you see.”   
“Of course,” I replied with a nod, “and just so you know, mages have a place in the Grey Wardens too, should you ever consider a change of scenery. Perhaps we will meet again one day, I hope to be able to tell you more of shape changing magic by then.” Anders gave a knowing smile.   
“I look forward to it.”

I excused myself to go see Irving, leaving Anders to his ‘studies.’ I nearly bumped into Cullen when I rounded a corner.   
“Oh, sorry, my bad,” I said as we both came to an abrupt halt.   
“Pardon,” Cullen said in turn.   
“Hey, I know you,” I said as I studied Cullen’s face. He didn’t look very good, he had dark circles under his eyes and his skin had a greyish tint to it.   
“You were on the top floor, when Uldred…” I stopped talking when I locked eyes with him. He was… damaged. Not fully broken, but close to it. I wondered how he had been sleeping. He regarded me suspiciously with hollow eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said and reached to gently touch his metal clad arm. He jerked away from me.   
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.   
“I’m here to talk to the First Enchanter, my companion, Wynne, is already with him,” I explained, “are you alright?” I added tentatively.   
“Spare me your concern,” Cullen replied icily.   
“Still haven’t forgiven me for not killing off all the mages, huh?” I said and crossed my arms, “how has that worked out for you?”   
“Well, as you can see, it worked out just as you wanted, _for_ _now_ ,” Cullen sneered and angrily made a wide gesture.   
“Perhaps the question was unclear, how does it benefit you to resent me for your current situation?”   
“It doesn’t!” he snapped, “it’s only a matter of time before the blood mages and abominations that you spared rise up again. That blood will be on your hands!”   
“Will it?” I said slowly, “do you know _why_ Uldred revolted?”

Cullen flushed red with anger, grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed in into the wall.   
“How _dare_ you!? Do you even know what you’ve _done_!?”   
“Cullen, I’m telling you this once, unhand me,” I said darkly, staring up into his eyes. He shook me.   
“Or what!? Huh? What are you going to do that hasn’t already been done to me!?” I straightened my back against the wall, slammed both of my fists into his arms to knock them away and hit his chest with a powerful open-palmed strike. It send him stumbling backwards, his armor rattling loudly. By now, the noise had attracted several mages and Templars, drawn to the commotion by their curiosity. Cullen reached for his sword when I straightened. I grabbed his wrist with both hands, lifted his arm up, stepped under it, turned, and brought it down as I moved past him. Twisting his shoulder, making him drop the sword and forcing him to his knees. Cullen reached for his dagger with his free hand when Gregoir’s voice boomed through the hallway.

“What is going on here!?” he demanded.   
“Ser Gregoir,” I said politely, twisting Cullen’s arm further as he struggled against my hold on him, “it is good to see you.”   
“Explain why you are grappling one of my men, Warden,” he said, stepping through the small crowd that had gathered. At that moment, Cullen swiped back blindly at my legs with his dagger. I kicked his hand viciously, sending the dagger flying before it could find flesh.   
“That’s why,” I said as the dagger clanked on the floor noisily. It didn’t stop Cullen from gabbing one of my ankles however, and he jerked my leg forward. I went along with the motion and brought my knee up against the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor noisily, his armor clattering against the stone as I released my hold on him.   
“We should talk, Gregoir,” I said, picking up Cullen’s sword and dagger, “privately.”

* * *

Gregoir sat at his desk, rubbing his temples.

“You need to transfer him,” I said calmly, “this place is making him miserable. He won’t be able to recover from what happened to him if he is forced to stay here.”   
“All of us have been through traumatising events here, Warden,” Gregoir began slowly, “we’ve all lost our brothers. I can’t afford to miss anyone.”   
“Ser Gregoir, Cullen has been held prisoner and tortured by the blood mages for days. I acknowledge that everyone here has suffered greatly, but few more so than Ser Cullen. The mages that survived have each other. Who does Cullen have? After being locked in the Tower and left to his fate by his brothers, brothers who have not gone through the same ordeal he has,” I said seriously.

“So I am to reward his transgressions with special treatment?” Gregoir challenged. I shook my head.   
“No. What you will be doing is taking a man that has served you well away from the place that is destroying him. He didn’t attack me because he is a bad Templar, he attacked me because he is stuck reliving what he went through each day he remains here. He is traumatised, not mad,” I explained, gazing sharply into Gregoir’s pale blue eyes. He sighed.

“Nonetheless, I cannot absolve him of the consequences of his actions.”   
“Even the most loyal dog will bite if you beat him long enough. The man is paranoid, in a constant state of heightened awareness, reliving the horrors of torture, surrounded by those that could possess the power to do that to him. How long has it been since you regained control of the Tower? Months? What do you think that does to a mind? Especially one addled with lyrium? He has been loyal to you, repay him in kind, and see that he gets a chance to heal. Before this place destroys him, he deserves better than that,” I replied sharply.

Gregoir sighed again.   
“He attacked you, tried to draw his sword and then tried to cut you with his dagger.”   
“And a good thing it was me,” I said matter-of-factly, “chances are that there would have been blood if it had been someone else.”   
“Why would you care about his well-being, after all of that?” Gregoir asked.   
“While I haven’t gone through the same thing Cullen has, I’ve gone through something similar. Being stuck, reliving something so terrible that it slowly kills you. He has nightmares, doesn’t he? Can’t sleep through a night without waking up screaming? Does he act them out?” I replied. Shock flashed across Gregoir’s face as I mentioned nightmares.   
“How did you-”   
“Consider it part of the injury, our bodies are not the only thing that can be wounded. You _need_ to take him out of this place, _please._ ” Gregoir closed his eyes for a brief moment.   
“Very well. I will see what I can do,” he said as he got up to pour two glasses of whiskey.

“Your compassion is an inspiration, Warden,” he said as he handed me a glass, “I will speak to him on your behalf. He should know how fortunate he is.” I shook my head.   
“Best you don’t. If he knows I had something to do with his transfer, it might do him more harm than good. I am currently the focus of his paranoia, after all.”   
“Right,” Gregoir nodded, “I hear you have succeeded in securing alliances with the dwarves of Orzammar and the Dalish elves,” he said, changing the subject and sitting back down.

“Would you like to hear some of my adventures?” I said with a lopsided smile. Gregoir returned the smile and took a swig of whiskey.   
“Please.”

* * *

I found Wynne waiting for me by the doors leading out of the Tower.

“I was expecting you to come see Irving and me. Instead, I hear you beat up Ser Cullen,” Wynne said beratingly and crossed her arms.   
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” I replied, “how was your talk with Irving?”   
“The Circle Tower will soon be hosting its first dwarven student,” Wynne replied crisply, “so, what happened with Cullen?”   
“Remember how he wanted me to kill every single mage to ensure there would be no blood mages or abominations left?” I asked. Wynne nodded.   
“Well, he hasn’t quite forgiven me for not doing that,” I explained, “add the trauma he sustained and the fact that he has been stuck in this place the whole time, he may have been a bit unstable.”   
“Hmm,” Wynne replied, “you may have a point there…”

  
“Are you alright?” I asked as I fell into step beside her.   
“Oh, yes dear, I’m fine. I’ve just been… thinking a lot, of late,” she answered with a sigh.   
“About what happened here?” I inquired.   
“In part, yes. So many of us had succumbed to Uldred, became abominations, I can’t help but wonder…”   
“Wonder what?”   
“Would it be possible for a mage to retain his own mind? Achieve a symbiosis of sorts?”   
“You are wondering if there was any humanity left in any of them? Anything of the people they were?” Wynne nodded to that.   
“I was hoping to get your opinion on it.”

I thought for a moment.   
“Well…” I began slowly, “can a person that invites in a demon be called an abomination if they keep their sanity and free will? Because that doesn’t seem like an abomination to me. I always thought an abomination had lost its humanity, and its free will and sanity with it. I can’t say if that was the case for Uldred and his followers, I don’t know them well enough. But he didn’t strike me as human anymore, _before_ he transformed into that pride demon. I have no doubts whether he had any humanity left after that.” Wynne looked up at me curiously.   
“I had never looked at it that way.”   
“What do you mean?”   
“I was always taught that any mage who made any kind of arrangement with a Fade spirit is considered an abomination. The connection in itself is what makes them so. But what you say makes sense. Can one be called an abomination if one retains his humanity, mind, and free will? Or are they something else?” Wynne mused.   
“I’d say something else. From what I’ve seen, one is an abomination when the demon or spirit is fully in control. If it is the mage however, who is in control, you have something else entirely,” I replied. For some reason, Wynne looked relieved.

“I-… Thank you dear.”   
“You’re welcome,” I replied with an arched eyebrow. This seemed a little too important to Wynne to be _just_ something she had been wondering about. But I couldn’t ask her about it here, too many prying eyes and big ears. I would ask her about it when we were back on the road. Wynne didn’t make any deals with demons… did she? That just wasn’t Wynne.

Oghren was waiting for me when we docked, fidgeting with his flask and pacing.   
“There you are, Warden! ‘Been waitin’ here for hours,” he shouted as I stepped out of the boat.   
“Must be important then, there’s ale inside,” I replied with a lopsided grin and held out a hand for Wynne.   
“Yeah, yeah, listen, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Oghren replied impatiently.   
“Sure, what is it?”   
“You’ve been, uhm… Heh, you know,” he said in a greasy chuckle.   
“Go on.”   
“You know, eh, heh, when a man and a woman… heh, get together?”   
“What about it?”   
“You know, with blondie… Right. Heh, heh…” Oghren belched. I arched an eyebrow.   
“Is this about what we do with our legs again?”   
“No! Heh, ahahaha!” Oghren took a swig from his flask and went back to fidgeting with it.

“Come on Oghren, I’ve heard the most colourful obscenities come from your mouth. Nothing you can say will surprise me anymore. What is it you want to ask me?” I said and nudged his shoulder.

“Alright then, here goes,” he began, “there was once this girl I knew.”   
“A girl you knew, or a girl you _knew?_ ” I asked with a smirk.   
“You askin’ if we polished the footstones?” I nodded, “ooh, aye,” Oghren said with a wriggle of his eyebrows.   
“She was a real firecracker between the sheets, a screamer too.” I snickered.   
“Oghren, you dog!” He chuckled appreciatively.

“So, what about her?” I asked.   
“We uh… lost touch, when my family betrothed me to Branka. She left for the surface,” Oghren continued.   
“Any idea where she went?”   
“That’s the thing,” Oghren said and thumbed at the inn behind him. I looked at the inn, and back at Oghren.

“No way,” I said. He nodded.   
“Well what are you waiting for? go get her!” I said enthusiastically. Oghren beamed, but he made no move to start heading toward the inn.   
“You think you could maybe… be my wingman for a bit?” he asked in almost a shy manner.   
“Of course!” I said and slapped him on the back to steer him towards the inn, “you travel with the Grey Wardens, Oghren, on important business for the good of Ferelden. You’re a brave slayer of darkspawn in service of the rightful King, counted among his friends,” I continued, propping up Oghren’s ego and moving his back and shoulders so he carried himself proudly and confidently.

“Now let’s go get your girl, a hero should always get the girl,” I said and swung open the door to the Spoiled Princess.

I briefly waved at Alistair before following Oghren to the bar, he ordered two pints of ale and climbed onto a barstool. We knocked our tankards together before taking a deep drink.   
“You know,” Oghren said as he sighed appreciatively, “I never would have thought you could make good ale out of wheat, but, there it is. This is good ale.”   
“Are dwarven ale and surface ale very different? I’ve never had dwarven ale before,” I mused. Oghren laughed and slapped me on the back just as I was about to take another drink. I ended up splashing ale in my face and over my chest.   
“When I get my hands on any real dwarven ale, I’ll safe some for ya. You’ll know what the difference is when you wake up the next day.”

“Oghren? Is that you?” came a voice from the door leading to the kitchen. It was a young dwarven woman, pretty, with big blue eyes like topaz and deep brown hair pulled back in a tail.   
“Of all the…” she said with a frown, “what brings you up to the surface?”   
“Business,” Oghren answered, “I’m here to assist the Grey Wardens in stopping the Blight,” he slapped me on the back a second time right as I was taking a drink, causing me to spill ale all over myself a second time.   
“Oh? Is there an Archdemon around here to kill?” she asked with a playful gleam in her eye.   
“Nah, woman, we’re raising an army. We got a treaty with the mages,” Oghren replied, “important business.” She grinned and crossed her arms.   
“Grey Wardens, huh?” I raised my hand.

“One ale-soaked Grey Warden, right here. But we shouldn’t shout it off the rooftops, captain,” I said as I looked at Oghren. She laughed.   
“Yeah, I remember you, Warden Commander, you cleaned out the Tower after ranting about ‘abysmal freakshows’ for a good half hour. Don’t worry, you’re among friends here, Gregoir has made sure everyone knows exactly _what_ happened and _why._ We are no friends of Loghain here. Name is Felsi. But what are you doing with Oghren?”   
“Exactly what he said, he is helping us stop the Blight. Played an important role in securing two of the treaties, one of which is with Orzammar,” I replied.   
“Really?” Felsi said with a raised eyebrow, “how does your wife feel about that?” Oghren shrugged.   
“Branka’s no longer in the picture.”   
“Where’d she go?”   
“Died on a mad quest down the Deep Roads,” Oghren said brusquely, “betrayed her house, and her people. I got nothin’ more to say about that.”

Felsi looked a little taken aback at first, but then a sliver of relief crossed her face.   
“I see. Well, good to see you haven’t changed too much, you still smell like nug droppings,” she said with a slight smile.   
“Glad you still mope about like a surly bronto,” Oghren retorted with a playful gleam in his eye. Their conversation spiralled downward from there, I quietly made my exit as soon as they forgot I was there, too caught up in exchanging insults and ogling one another with big cow eyes. I made my way over to Alistair to tell him about what I had done that day, and when I turned back to look at Oghren and Felsi, they were skulking towards the rooms in the back. 

“What did you do now?” Alistair asked, “you look like the cat that ate the pigeon.”   
“Canary,” Wynne corrected from next to him, contently knitting a cloak for Sten.   
“What?” Alistair asked.   
“She looks like the cat that ate the canary,” Wynne clarified without looking up.   
“I once had a _very_ large cat, but that’s not the point,” Alistair said and turned back to me, “what have you been up to?”

“I just played wingman for our friend Oghren,” I said as I sat down, “and I think I did a very good job.” Wynne chuckled.   
“You poured ale over yourself and called Oghren ‘captain.’”   
“I did that too, yes,” I said, rubbing the front of my shirt and gave an impish grin.

“And you beat up a Templar at the Tower today,” Wynne continued crisply.   
“What!?” Alistair said sharply.   
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” I said defensively. Wynne chuckled to herself, and I started telling Alistair about my day. About Anders, Cullen, Gregoir, and Felsi.

“So where is Cullen now?” he asked darkly.   
“Still at the Tower, as far as I know,” I replied. Alistair nodded and stood, marching toward the door.

“Alistair,” I called after him and stood, “hey!” He kept walking and left the inn.   
_“Goddamnit,”_ I muttered before hurrying after him, good thing he would need to cross a lake first.

Of course, Alistair was halfway down the docks when I stepped outside. I sprinted down to where Alistair was about to get on the boat and jumped on before Carroll pushed off, making the boat wobble wildly.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed. He looked at me blankly.   
“I am going to see Cullen.”   
“And what’s your plan once you find him?” I continued, stepping up close and speaking quietly.   
“I am going to break his face,” Alistair replied flatly.

“No,” I said sharply, “no, you’re not. Don’t make an ass out of yourself.”   
“Fela, he attacked you,” Alistair replied.   
“And that means you have to go all manly-man and punch the guy in the face? You know I already knocked him out after nearly dislocating his shoulder, right?” I replied.   
“And I have no illusions that you need me to restore your honour,” he answered.   
“So what are you doing?” I hissed impatiently.   
“I am going to explain to Cullen what it means to raise a hand to the woman who is doing everything in her power to save his country from a Blight,” Alistair said.   
“Would you calm the fuck down!?” I snapped, “putting me on a pedestal is not helping anyone!”   
“I’m not going over there to help anyone,” he said dismissively. I threw my hands up in the air in frustration and turned to Carroll.

“You might want to go ahead to Ser Gregoir when we reach the shore.” He tried to look everywhere but at me, and gave no answer.

Alistair marched off to the Tower’s entrance as soon as we docked, going straight for one of the Templar’s standing guard there.   
“I’m here to see Ser Cullen,” he announced. The Templar briefly shared a glance with his colleague and looked back at Alistair uncertainly.   
“He is off-duty, m’Lord. You’ll most likely find him in the barracks,” he replied stiffly and straightened a bit. Alistair nodded curtly. The guard went on to give Alistair directions to Cullen’s room.

I forgot I was angry with him for a moment when I noticed Alistair’s natural reaction to being called ‘my Lord.’ I wondered if he was bluffing through it, or actually starting to get used to being treated like a noble. Or maybe he was just angry enough not to notice it. I started out of my reverie when he started walking, and rushed after him.

“What’s with the alpha-male attitude?” I asked as I caught up to him. He chuckled a little but didn’t give any other response as he strode purposely through the barracks until coming to a stop at the last door down the hallway.

“Alistair, I’m asking you not to do this,” I said as he raised a hand to knock. The door swung open before his knuckles touched the wood.   
“What do you want now!?” came Cullen’s angry sneer. Before Cullen could step out of the room, Alistair’s fist connected with his face. He fell flat on his back, grasping his profusely bleeding nose. I lingered by the doorpost as Alistair stepped into the room and pulled Cullen up into a sitting position against a wall by the back of his collar. Cullen groaned.   
“Well isn’t this rich.” Alistair ignored the comment and squatted to be at eye level with Cullen.

“Shut up and listen,” he said coldly, “I don’t care what you’ve gone through, or what you think you know. Stop acting like a victim and blaming the wrong people for what happened to you. If there is one person who has made a difference in this crumbling piece of rock you call a Tower, it’s her,” Alistair said pointing to me. “She’s been all over Ferelden, doing everything she can to unite our country against a Blight. Don’t raise a hand to her again,” Alistair continued, “there are countless people who owe her their lives, and I don’t think there are many among them who would leave it at a punch in the face.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Cullen said in a thick voice, spitting a bit of blood.   
“It’s advice. Do with it what you will,” Alistair replied, and stood. Cullen chuckled bitterly.   
“Feel like a real man now?” Alistair ignored the comment and turned to leave, but Cullen wasn’t done yet.

“Pathetic,” he said, “coming in here, making a threat, and backing then out of it like the whipped little bitch you are. Did she tell you to come here? Or did you come up with that all by yourself?”   
“Come on, Fela, let’s go,” Alistair said and moved to leave, I stayed where I was.

“What?” Cullen said scathingly, “you want to get a punch in too?” I flushed hot with anger, struggling to keep it under control. Alistair put a hand on my shoulder to draw my attention.   
“Get the fuck out,” Cullen sneered, “and don’t come back, don’t let me see you here again.” I looked back at him blankly.   
“ _Maker’s_ _balls_ , you are making life difficult for yourself.” I shook my head, and followed Alistair out of the room. Cullen slammed the door shut behind us, and turned the lock.

I sighed, and started walking after Alistair. My thoughts surrounded Cullen. I was left feeling a strange mixture of pity, disgust, and anger. And towards Alistair, I felt a mixture of annoyance, awe, and lust. While I disapproved of his need to go after a guy I had already beat down myself, I actually kind of liked his reaction to it. Alistair had always been protective of me, but he had always trusted me to fight my own battles. The reaction elicited by Cullen shoving me into a wall and trying to attack me, was flattering as well as a bit stereo-typical. I had never responded well to what I considered hysterical-cave-man behaviour, but now that Alistair did it, I wasn’t so sure I disliked it. And that annoyed me as much as his behaviour itself. He didn’t speak a word on the way back to the Spoiled Princess. Not that I had tried to strike up a conversation or anything. Both of us were quiet. This was just more unusual for Alistair than it was for me.

By the time we made it back to the docks, the tension was palpable. So, I broke the silence.

“What the fuck, Alistair!?” I said exasperatedly.   
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he groused, “I’m an ass.” I paused.   
“Well, you’re _my_ ass- wait,” I gave myself a mental head slap for that idiotic response. Alistair chuckled before he broke into laughter.   
“You didn’t just _actually_ say that!”

I tried to suppress it, but I ended up laughing with him. The whole situation was ridiculous. Alistair took me in his arms, still shaking with laughter.   
“You weirdo,” he said with an amused grin.   
“ _Your_ weirdo,” I retorted and leaned against his chest.   
“ _My_ weirdo,” Alistair affirmed.

“Seriously, though. What the hell was that?” I asked, “it’s not like you to suckerpunch a guy like that.”   
“I got mad,” he said, “ _really mad._ ”   
“Yeah, no shit,” I replied, “but I get attacked all the time, physically, and verbally. You don’t usually go all hysterical-cave-man like that.”   
“I know,” Alistair sighed and let go of his embrace, “I don’t know what came over me either. But he attacked you while you were alone, and weren’t even threatening him. He blames you for everything that’s wrong in the world while you are the person working hardest to do something about it. I just… I don’t get it. How can he be so incredibly hostile toward you? It wasn’t you that locked the doors and left him to die in the Tower. You were the one who got him out. I can’t put reason nor rhyme to it. There is usually some degree of logic to it.”

“It’s fear,” I replied, “he’s paranoid that a blood mage or abomination has been spared. That they are lying in wait to rise up again. And he’s stuck in a place where he is surrounded by possible blood mages, their thralls, or abominations. He is stuck in the conditions that facilitated the trauma he sustained in the first place. His body has been in a state of panic for months now, because he is afraid it will happen again.” I paused for a moment.

“So no. There is no logic to it. Fear isn’t a logical thing, it’s a warning system. And his has been in a perpetual state of high alert ever since we cleared the Tower. Add the lyrium addiction, the fact that he has gone through abrupt withdrawal, abandonment by his brothers, days of mental and physical torture, and the Chantry doctrine. And you’ve got Cullen,” I added.   
“And yet, you make it sound logical when you say it like that,” Alistair replied.   
“I don’t think logical is the right word… understandable, relatable, maybe. But not logical,” I answered and looked back over the lake, towards the Tower.

“You did your thing, didn’t you,” Alistair asked.   
“I suppose… Did I tell you that it took me four years before I could bear to set foot in a stable again? You can’t exactly measure and compare trauma, decide which was worse, or more severe. It’s too subjective for that. But I think the process would be somewhat similar. What happened to Cullen was not the same thing that happened to me. A trained, full grown Templar will not respond the same way as an eleven year old girl. And both will have their own individual healing process. But I know one thing for certain, he needs to get out of that Tower, away from mages. Temporarily, at least.”

“So, you recognise pieces of yourself in Cullen?” Alistair asked, putting a hand on my cheek to gently nudge me into looking at him.   
“In a way,” I said quietly, “nothing is quite as isolating as hurting like that without anyone who understands. Apart from actually putting him in an actual isolation cell, that is.” Alistair sighed.   
“Now I _really_ feel like an ass. Not for punching him, though, he had that coming. I should have realised there was a very good reason for why you reacted like you did. Normally, your dagger would have ended up somewhere between the fourth and fifth rib of your attacker.”   
“It’s ok,” I replied, “the truth is that I kind of liked it. That you went berserk on my behalf.”   
“Berserk?” he said with a raised eyebrow.   
“I’ve seen you angry, but this was something new,” I explained, “you were… fierce, and protective. Asher would be proud, you know.” Alistair chuckled.   
“If you tell him what happened, you’ll be back on that boat, trying to argue with an angry Mabari within a minute.” I smirked.   
“Yeah, I should probably keep an eye on him if we ever run into Cullen again. He might bite.”   
“Good dog,” Alistair said with a lopsided grin. I nodded.   
“Indeed, let’s go inside. I could use a drink.”   
“Right behind you.”

Wynne stood and rushed over the moment we stepped inside, asking what had happened and if everything was alright. When we told her and the rest of our companions of Alistair’s display of dominance toward another male, Wynne scolded him profusely, stating she would _not_ heal his bruised and scraped knuckles. Morrigan burst out laughing, congratulating Alistair and telling him she wished she had been there. Sten, Oghren, and Zevran raised their respective drinks to him in salute. Leliana commented on his chivalry and immediately started to spin another tale to spread, with Wynne and Zevran making suggestions and adding details.

I smiled as I watched their dynamic, stroking Asher’s head in my lap. I was having one of those moments where I went all warm and fuzzy inside because I was thankful for being able to call them my friends. My family. The drink helped of course, after drinking whiskey with Gregoir, I had had several more. And I was feeling it.

I occupied myself by carefully cleaning the wounds on Alistair’s knuckles. Apparently, they had connected with Cullen’s teeth and split his lip. Which was why he was talking funny, Alistair explained. I didn’t recall Cullen spitting out any teeth, for which I counted him lucky. Whenever Alistair threw a punch, he threw a _punch._ I had seen him punch a hurlock in the eye so hard, it came out of its broken socket. Though he had been wearing a gauntlet when he did that. This was a man who broke skulls with a single hit if he put the effort behind it. Alistair possessed a _lot_ of strength. He always had, but being at war for the better part of a year had only made him that much stronger.

I put a healing poultice on the wounds and wrapped them with a bandage. It wasn’t necessary, but it would keep him from smearing the poultice on everything he touched. It was just practical.

I held on to his hand a while longer, smiling sheepishly. He returned the smile, and eventually took my hands into his.   
“Want to get into a pile of blankets and pillows in front of a fire?” he asked with a playful gleam in his eyes. I chuckled softly.   
“Absolutely.”


	45. Soldier's Peak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group continues their journey to Soldier's Peak, where they find a LOT of demons. And Avernus, whom (am I using that right?) Fela has an interesting chat with.

As soon as we entered the room, Alistair gathered up the sheets and pillows from the bed. I added our bedrolls for some extra comfort on the hard wooden floor, and got the fire going while Alistair left to get some snacks. Asher had padded after us and had curled up on the blankets before Alistair and I could. I turned back around to look at big brown puppy-dog eyes.

“Ahw, sweetie, you need some cuddles, huh?” I cooed as I snuggled up to my enormous dog. He sighed contently as I started to stroke his head.  
“You want to know what Alistair did today?” A slight twitching of Asher’s ears told me that, yes, he would indeed like to know what Alistair did today.  
“Remember Cullen? Templar, young, blonde, about the same height as Alistair, paranoid,” I continued, “he, uh… he went a little nuts today. Tried to attack me.” Asher growled.  
“I know, I know, you want to tear his throat out, bite his dick off, gnaw on his bones, take a shit on his corpse...” I replied with a slight chuckle.  
“You know you’re not allowed to do any of those things, right?” Asher huffed.  
“Good boy. Anyway, when I told Alistair, he went straight for the Tower, to punch Cullen in the face. Total suckerpunch, he never saw it coming.” Asher made a sound that I had always considered the dog-equivalent of a snicker, and wagged his tail.  
“Yeah, he went full manly-man. It was quite an impressive display of dominance.”

“Leliana is calling it chivalry,” came Alistair’s voice from the door. He walked in with a tray stacked high with freshly baked bread, assorted cheeses, butter, honey, and a small selection of fruit.  
“Nice,” I said, propping myself up on one elbow and inspecting the tray of food as Alistair set it down on the floor.  
“Chivalry you say,” I said as I reached for a grape.  
“It sounds better than a ‘display of dominance toward another male,’” Alistair said with a shrug. I chuckled low in my throat.  
“Alright, ‘chivalry’ it is.” Alistair smiled and leaned in for a kiss, which I happily returned.

“I love you,” he said with a smirk and moved to tear off a piece of bread. I snickered.  
“Your _ego_ loves it when I stroke it. Amongst other things.”  
“True, but I also love you,” he said with a widening smirk as he moved on to the butter.  
“Remarkable how it has grown,” I continued, “it has made you delightfully confident.”  
“All you, my dear,” Alistair replied and topped his piece of bread off with some honey, and then gave it to me before repeating the process.

“I think Leliana mentioned something like that, and she may have mentioned it in relation to our… exertions,” I said innocently. Alistair shot me a sideways look.  
“Is this your way of putting me back in my place?” he asked, I winked.  
“Depends, is your ego the proportionate size?” Alistair broke into a wide grin.  
“I’d say it’s the perfect size.”  
“Oh, cocky,” I smirked, pleased with the number of puns in our conversation. It caused us both to burst out giggling. Asher sighed, and looked up at me blankly before getting up and padding to a blanket I had put down in one of the corners for him..

“You know what Leliana mentioned to me?” Alistair asked as he got his giggles back under control.  
“What?”   
“She said,” he snickered, “that my ‘chivalry’ might have an enticing effect on you.”  
“You mean she said it’s kind of sexy?” I asked with a smirk, “and that it might make me frisky?”  
“Did it?” he retorted. I gave him a wide smile.  
“Come and find out.”

The answer was yes. Yes, it turned me on and it made me want to ride him into a coma. And I did.

* * *

After a quick and early breakfast, and a lot of smooching and swearing between Oghren and Felsi, we left to continue our journey to Soldier’s Peak. Or at least, to the entrance to the mines where we would meet Levi Dryden.

I rode in front with Zevran, who was telling me of a pair of boots he had wanted to buy when he got back to Antiva. His plans had changed, of course, but he missed the smell of leather. It reminded him of where he grew up close to where skin and hides were cleaned and worked into leather. In other words, a cesspit. But to Zevran, it was the smell of home.

I put that bit of information with the other little things that my companions longed for or fancied. I kept a list of possible gifts for them in my head. Morrigan, like Leliana and Shale, had a thing for sparkly jewellery. Leliana also loved Orlesian fashion and was mad for shoes. Oghren liked anything alcoholic, but had a particular curiosity for anything he hadn’t tried yet. Sten was interested in Fereldan culture, and loved cookies. Wynne favoured any kind of literature. Whereas Alistair liked gifts that showed I listened to the things he said or anything related to history, the Grey Wardens, or magic, in which he had a keen interest. Excepting blood magic of course, he wasn’t a big fan of that. 

Zevran was just in the middle of describing how he took part in the assassination of an Antivan prince when Wynne collapsed and nearly fell off her horse. Alistair barely managed to grab her shoulder and eased her out of the saddle. He called for me and Morrigan as he carried Wynne off the road and propped her up against a tree. He checked her pulse and her breathing as I rushed over with a waterskin and a healing potion. Wynne started to come to when I took hold of her hand.

“I… fell? That doesn’t seem quite right,” she mumbled.  
“Alistair caught you before you could fall off your horse,” came Morrigan’s soft alt.  
“Are you alright? What happened?” Alistair asked, studying Wynne carefully and gesturing for her to look up into the sunlight to check her pupils. They were a bit sluggish, but they constricted when turned to the sky. Wynne paused for a moment.  
“I’m alright,” she finally said, “no need to worry yourselves.”  
“Wynne, I’ve asked you before, are you sure you’re ok? Because fainting and nearly falling of your horse doesn’t seem ok to me,” I said as I pressed a waterskin into her hand.  
“I’m… it’s complicated,” she said apologetically.  
“And none of us are stupid, not counting Alistair,” Morrigan said crisply.  
 _“Hey!”_ Alistair groused. Wynne let out a deep sigh.

“My dear, do you remember what we spoke about yesterday?” Wynne asked.  
“About when one is, or isn’t, an abomination?” I asked. She nodded.

“We agreed that, a mage who has invited in a spirit isn’t an abomination if he keeps his sanity, free will, and control,” I summarised. I held up a hand to silence Alistair before he could speak.

“At the Tower, when Uldred attacked, I fought a powerful demon to save a friend. I managed to destroy it, but it had drained me of all my strength. My life was fading away,” Wynne began, “I remember I found myself in the Fade, and I was bathed in bright light.”  
“What caused it? The light, I mean,” I asked.  
“I’m not sure,” Wynne replied, “my best guess that it was a benevolent spirit. The next thing I remember, was lying on a stone floor. It was very uncomfortable too.” I chuckled.  
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”  
“So, you were saved by a benevolent spirit?” Alistair asked.  
“In a way,” Wynne replied, “it has been sustaining me ever since I fell at the Tower. But, its power is slowly fading. I assume it’s because it has been away from the Fade for too long.”  
“So, you’re on borrowed time,” I said slowly. A cold feeling settled itself in the pit of my stomach. It must have shown on my face. Wynne squeezed my hand softly.  
“Aren’t we all?”

Morrigan crossed her arms.  
“She’s not wrong,” she said nodding toward Wynne.  
“Any idea how long?” Alistair asked, looking stricken.  
“Hard to say… Long enough, I suspect,” she said with a warm smile, “I’ve had a good and long life.”  
“It’s not the time for goodbyes just yet, Wynne,” I said stubbornly.  
“Not for a while, I think,” Wynne said with a nod and moved to get up.  
“Are you sure you’re ok? We can rest here for a while,” Alistair asked, offering Wynne a hand.  
“Yes, I’m alright, thank you. I’ll be more careful from now on,” she replied. And walked back to her horse.

“Am I the only one who sees the irony in this?” Morrigan asked with a smirk. Now that she mentioned it, I did see the irony in it. That the self-righteous Wynne from the Circle Tower, should have reached a symbiosis with a Fade spirit. The Chantry would consider her an abomination, whether it was a benevolent spirit or not. But I couldn’t find it inside myself to be amused by it. Wynne was dying, the spirit that sustained her was fading. I shook my head at Morrigan and Alistair openly scowled. She shrugged and left us to get back on her horse. Alistair and I watched Wynne from a distance.

“Good thing you warned me to keep an eye on her,” Alistair mumbled as Wynne walked back to her horse.  
“I’m glad you were riding next to her,” I replied and put a hand on his forearm. He put his hand on mine, as if to keep it there and smiled.  
“We should get going,” I said and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

We kept an easy pace for the rest of the day. I figured we shouldn’t put Wynne through more hard riding. Though we kept our pace steady any didn’t delay any more. After the camp had been set up, and Bodahn and Sandal had joined us, I went to speak to them.

“Warden,” Bodahn said jovially, “what can I do for you?”  
“I have a bit of an odd question,” I said and shook his outstretched hand, “is it possible to apply runes to a piece of armor, that will help the wearer stay warm?” Bodahn looked at Sandal, who looked up with a bright smile that lit up his face.  
“Enchantment!” he said happily.  
“You think you can do what the Warden asks, my boy?” Bodahn asked and smiled at his adopted son.  
“Enchantment!” Sandal repeated.

It was the only word the boy ever spoke, but his tone seemed to indicate whether he was asking a question, or answering one. Though, as far as I knew, a denial might sound the same as an affirmation. Bodahn seemed to know the difference.

“What would you like to have enchanted?” he asked. I smiled and went to find Zevran right away. He made so many comments about my request to take off his armor, I lost count. At least Zevran enjoyed it, and he was happy to take off his armor when I explained why I wanted it. Sandal set to work with vigour while Bodahn sold me extra blankets, a pair of Dalish fur lined gloves, and a set of augmentation crystals. I gave the gloves to Zevran, and got everyone an extra blanket. Well, everyone except Shale. She didn’t need a blanket, so I had gotten the crystals for her because I didn’t like the idea of giving something to everyone but Shale. And she loved to sparkle. Leliana complimented how they looked on her, and Shale went nearly giddy with excitement.

Zevran responded in a similar way when I presented him with his, now enchanted, armor. But when I gave him the gloves, he went quiet.  
“These are…” he stared at the gloves in his hands, “they are so much like the pair I had so long ago…”  
“I figured they might remind you of your mother’s gloves… the ones that the crows took away from you,” I said, suddenly feeling shy about the gift. It was eliciting an emotional response from Zevran, something he usually avoided.  
“They do. This is…” Zevran trailed off and looked up to meet my eyes, “thank you. It’s most thoughtful.” I smiled.  
“You’re welcome.” I turned to help with the cooking when Zevran called after me.

“Fela?”  
“Yes?”  
“There was a time when I didn’t think it was possible I could ever truly trust, or care for, anyone again…” Zevran started, “I just wanted you to know, you’ve proven me wrong.” He gave me a shy smile.

I’m normally not a hugger, I like my personal space and I am very territorial about it. But at that moment, all I could do was give Zevran a hug. Not the kind where you briefly press your torsos together and pat each other on the back. A real hug, the kind I would have given to my brother. The kind where you pull someone against yourself to let them know you want to keep them safe. To show you care for them. Zevran stiffened and seemed a little surprised by my affection, but eventually eased into the hug, resting his cheek on my forehead and putting his arms around my shoulders, keeping his hands well away from any indecent places.

“Thank you,” Zevran whispered again, and let go of the embrace.  
“Like I said,” I said with a smile, “I’m glad you tried to kill me.”

I left Zevran to a moment of solitude, and helped Leliana prepare dinner. She gave me a knowing smile and looked in Zevran’s direction, but didn’t make any comment. She had gotten to know Zevran pretty well by now, and she knew it wasn’t easy for him to let anyone get close to him. He’d hide behind his bravado and charm, avoiding any emotional attachment. So Leliana left the matter alone, and instead chatted me up about shoes with straps. I liked elegant shoes well enough, but I wasn’t mad for them like Leliana was. I soon found myself zoning out and barely listening to what she said. She was content to carry on the conversation on her own.

We continued on our even pace the next day. There weren’t nearly as many darkspawn attacks this far north, so even though we kept to a trot, we made good headway. After two more days of this, we finally found Levi. I felt really bad for having him wait up here for so long now that I knew how cold it was. Levi had taken refuge at the entrance to the mines, where he would be out of the wind and snow. But it was still freezing cold up there.

“Wardens!” Levi greeted us enthusiastically, “you came!”  
“We would have gotten here sooner, but we got held up longer than expected at Orzammar and the Brecillian Forest,” Alistair said and shook Levi’s hand, “how have you been?”  
“Me? I’m fine, it takes more than a little cold to send me packing,” Levi said and bowed his head to me, “I imagine your travels have been of a far more dangerous nature.”  
“I should hope so,” I replied with a smile, “unless that means you are the biggest badass in Thedas.” Levi chuckled.  
“No my Lady, just a merchant.”  
“Did you have any trouble?” Alistair asked. Levi shook his head.  
“No, the mines are clear of anything truly dangerous. Not a lot of predators up here either, and people tend to stay in warmer places.”  
“I’m glad to hear it,” Alistair replied, “shall we get going to Soldier’s Peak then? Or do you need some time to prepare?” Levi grinned like a boy that has been promised an amazing toy.  
“All I need is my bag, I’ve been prepared to go there ever since I camped here. I’ve been waiting for this.”  
“Well, the wait is over then, lead on,” Alistair replied and gestured for Levi to lead the way.

The mines were indeed clear of any threats, if you didn’t count the possible risk of collapse of some parts. We had to track back several times and try a new route due to some cave in or the fact that the tunnel was simply a dead end. After the Deep Roads, I wasn’t too pleased to be in a dark tunnel again. But at least here my blood wasn’t singing and we weren’t constantly being attacked, so I tried to focus on that. All the same, I felt more relieved than I probably should have when we spotted daylight. Levi let out a sigh.

“Here we are then, Soldier’s Peak,” he said gesturing towards the fort.  
“You were lost there a couple of times, weren’t you?” Alistair asked with a slight smirk. Levi looked like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, by Sten.  
“We’re here now, aren’t we?” I said and winked at Alistair, “I’m just glad to be out of those tunnels.”  
“Yeah, I hear you,” Alistair said with a sigh and smiled at me, “nothing like a few weeks in the Deep Roads to make you appreciate the open sky.”

Levi led us to the front gates, and into the courtyard. From what I could tell, the Peak was in reasonable condition. And the fact that anyone would have to traverse the mines to get here made it marvellously defensible. On the other hand, it wouldn’t exactly make things easy for Bodahn and Sandal to lead the contingent of soldiers and craftsmen up here either. But there was time to mark the right route before then.

“No one has been here for hundreds of years,” Levi whispered and looked around with eyes gleaming with excitement. The structure did indeed look to be in reasonable shape, but I’d leave final judgement on that to the professionals.  
“Shall we go inside?” I opted pointing to the entrance to the fort itself, and looked at the two men at my side before looking back at my companions. I mostly got shrugs and nods from them, but Levi gave me a wide grin and led us to the great wooden doors.

He pushed them open with some help from Alistair and Sten, and stepped inside. The ground was covered by a layer of dust, and debris littered the hall.  
“King Arland must have abandoned the fort after he attacked,” Levi mused, peeking into the dark.  
“Look at this mess,” he continued, “there’s debris everywhere.”  
“Well, I don’t imagine King Arland would bother cleaning up after himself after razing an entire fort,” Alistair said and shrugged.

He then took the lead and started giving instructions on how we would proceed while Levi, Asher, and I ventured further into the hall. It didn’t feel right. And it wasn’t just the feeling of being in a dark ruin.

“How many people were stationed here by the time King Arland attacked?” I asked quietly.  
“I’m not sure,” Levi replied, “hundreds? A couple thousand? It was the Grey Warden’s headquarters back in the day.” I moved toward a wall to examine the rubble more closely. It was a little strange that the hall was littered like it was. Wouldn’t you at least shove any rubble aside so more men could move in quickly?  
“And King Arland slaughtered everyone,” I said slowly, and turned sharply when I realised what it was that had set me on edge.

“Levi,” I said quietly and knelt to pick up a rusty helmet, “this isn’t debris.”

The Veil was thin here, it had to be. I glanced at Wynne and Morrigan. Wynne was arguing with Alistair that we shouldn’t split the group while Morrigan eyed our surroundings through narrowed eyelids. Levi let out a yell when the first corpses rose.

I yanked him back by the back of his collar to get him out of the way of a thrust sword.

“Get behind the mages!” I pointed him toward Wynne and Morrigan and drew one of my blades to block another incoming attack as I did so. I drew the other when Levi got moving and caught the corpse I had blocked along its ribcage. The bones were brittle and easily broke down, causing the corpse to collapse on itself. Meanwhile, Asher took down another, the top of its spine between his jaws as he shook his head violently. I took a second one on the side of its skull, severing it from its body, before kicking at a third.

They were moving in fast, though they went down fairly easily, their numbers were quickly becoming a problem for me. I moved back, holding off any attackers until Shale reached me, barrelling through the corpses with Alistair, Sten, and Zevran in her wake. Morrigan had kept me from being surrounded and overwhelmed with a few well placed fireballs. It wasn’t long before the first demons appeared.

Oghren was swinging his axe around wildly, shattering corpses, while Leliana, Wynne, and Morrigan aimed for the demons. I ducked to evade an attack from one of the lesser demons and sliced at it as I went past it, rolling to my feet and swiping at another while kicking at a third. I continued the motion, jumped, an spun, kicking at another corpse as I did so. The majority of the corpses was down now, leaving me free to go after the remaining demons.

I shredded the one nearest to me with a quick succession of swipes, before kicking backwards at a corpse that had been coming at me from behind. As I turned, I saw Sten being cornered by three shades. I dropped one of my swords to reach for a throwing knife and send it flying at one of them. It struck where the base of its skull would have been if the droopy humanoid shape was any indication, and it went down. Oghren took down the next, burying his axe in the shade’s back. Leaving Sten free to slice the last in half with his sword.

Using a one-handed cartwheel, I dodged another attack and picked up the sword I had dropped. I let my foot slam down into another corpse as my momentum brought me upright, shattering it. I grinned in satisfaction as the bones scattered and engaged a rage demon. It hurled a fireball at me, which I side-stepped before running the creature through and twisting the blades before viciously pulling them out. It dissipated.

“Everyone alright?” I asked after the last demon went down. I got an affirming response.  
“Wynne, how are you feeling?” I asked and wiped my blades on… something.  
“I’m fine,” she said soothingly, “this wasn’t all that bad for a fight.”  
“I suppose…” I replied and looked around, “so, I think we can assume the Veil is thin here?”  
“Worse,” Morrigan replied, “it has been torn.”

“Levi? You alright?” I called and looked past Wynne where he had put his back to a wall.  
“I-… I think so…” he replied, “demons! Of all things…”  
“It happens sometimes, in places where a lot of innocent blood has been spilled,” Wynne explained, “it attracts demons like honey attracts bees. But that doesn’t mean the fort is lost. Perhaps we can do something to reverse the damage, but that means we’ll have to start exploring.”  
“No splitting up the party then,” Alistair chimed in and gently squeezed Wynne’s shoulder, “at least I’m not sensing any darkspawn.” He shot me a glance, asking me if I was sensing anything he wasn’t. I shook my head.

“I am so sorry for dragging you into this,” Levi said, “all I wanted was to clear my name, but not at this cost.”  
“It’s fine Levi, this isn’t the first demon infested structure we’ve cleared out. And we’ve grown a lot more experienced since then,” I said and smiled reassuringly, “besides, there is something in it for us too.”

I took Leliana and Zevran to scout ahead, Alistair followed a few paces behind like when we had busted into the Carta’s hide-out in Orzammar. We warned them of enemies ahead and disabled any traps, while they covered us and rushed in when they needed to. I had given Levi some armour I looted off the corpses and a sharp dagger, so he would be able to defend himself if he needed to. He managed to stay out of the fray, sticking close to Wynne, Morrigan, and Leliana. We worked our way through the fort, eventually reaching a chamber with strange constructions arranged in a square.

“I don’t think we should go near those,” Zevran said quietly as we peered into the chamber. I nodded.  
“Leliana, could you get Wynne and Morrigan? Quietly.”  
“Of course,” the bard replied curtly and melted into the shadows.

“You think that’s lyrium?” Zevran asked and pointed at the strange objects. He was right, glowing lyrium veins covered the material. In the soft light of the veins, I could see the runes etched into the stone floor. It was like nothing I had ever seen before.  
“Probably,” I replied, “there are runes too.” Leliana soon returned with the mages, who eyed the constructions suspiciously.

“I think we may have found whatever tore the Veil,” Morrigan whispered.  
“Whatever that is, it’s nothing they teach at the Circle,” Wynne added. Morrigan rolled her eyes.  
“Because what you learn at that glorified prison is Chantry propaganda. I believe they are gateways,” she added, “used to summon demons.”

Great. Blood magic, within the Grey Wardens. Alistair was going to get his panties in a twist over this. I sighed.

“Any way you can tell if it’s currently open?”  
“Well, we could always wait for something to come through,” she said dryly as one of the gateways started to glow, “but I think it’s safe to assume they are open.” The gateway shimmered and rippled like water, reflecting the room in twisted and contorted images. Something was coming through.  
“Is it safe to approach in order to kill whatever comes through?” I asked and drew my blades.  
“As long as you don’t touch the gateways,” Morrigan replied and readied her magic.  
“Call the others,” I instructed Zevran and stepped into the room, followed by Morrigan, Leliana, Asher, and Wynne.

Not a second later, demons started pouring out. I dashed forward as I felt Wynne’s supporting magic, making my reflexes faster and my muscles stronger. Morrigan hit the demons with a misdirection hex and froze several of them. Leliana picked them off with her bow, shattering them while I took care of the remaining three. One shade, and two rage demons. I sidestepped a swipe from the shade, swiping at its arms. I continued the motion to deflect a pair of claws and struck one of the rage demons across its torso. I kicked the other, sending it stumbling back and turned back to the shade. Jamming one blade into its side as I did so. The other I slashed at the rage demon I had cut, striking it again. I spun to pull my sword out of the shade and slashed both blades across the rage demon once more. Both dissipated, and I turned to see the remaining rage demon being electrocuted by Morrigan.

The others reached us when the next wave of demons came through. We fought wave after wave before the stream of demons finally subsided. Shale stomped the last one into the ground with a satisfied grunt. Morrigan immediately moved to the gateway and started examining it. Wynne joined her after making sure everyone was ok. Meanwhile I sat with my back against a wall, devouring an apple.

Asher sat to my left, panting and looking around curiously. As I had predicted, Alistair was not pleased with the idea of blood magic being used among the Grey Wardens. He was pacing the room, waiting for Morrigan and Wynne to tell him anything useful. Neither of them had any clue as to how to close the gateway, and I wasn’t keen on the idea of them tinkering with it. So when Alistair told them not to, I quietly agreed. We decided to leave the gateway for now and explore further. Whoever had created this… door, must have done a lot of research and experimenting. Perhaps we could find something that would help us. Levi decided to follow, still hoping that he would be able to clear his family name. So when we found an undead Sophia Dryden in her study, he was appalled.

“Still your weapons, stranger, this one would speak with you,” came an unnatural and rasping voice.  
“Oh, Maker’s arse,” I snapped and frowned, “so what kind of demon are you?” I asked indignantly. The demon clicked its tongue disapprovingly.  
“The Veil, it is torn here. You seek to restore it, do you not? This one proposes a deal. This one can close it, for a price.”  
“’That one’ can forget about any deal,” I replied, then turned to Levi, “I’m sorry about this Levi.” He shrugged.  
“I don’t know much about demons, but I know enough to know that is not my great-great-grandmother.” The demon sneered at him.

“Sophia Dryden deluded herself into thinking she was a hero, thinking herself the rightful heir to the throne,” it snarled.  
“Don’t believe a word that comes out of its mouth,” Leliana said sharply.  
“A shame,” the demon said mockingly, “this one has information that could be useful indeed.”  
“Yeah, I don’t really care about any information you offer me,” I said and drew my weapons.

“It was Sophia Dryden who ordered the ritual that tore the Veil,” the demon hissed, “did you know that? Oh, she was so deliciously proud and terrified.” It licked its lips with a black tongue, causing a maggot to fall from the corner of its blackened mouth.  
“What is it you are trying to do here?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, “antagonising me will only make me more likely to kill you.” The demon laughed.  
“Only one will leave here alive, and it won’t be you.”  
“Have it your way,” I replied flatly and lashed out at the demon as I drew one of my rapiers.

The demon’s eyes widened at my sudden attack and it barely managed to step back before drawing a great-sword. While it was focussed on the rapier it dodged, I drew the other and slashed it along it’s lower abdomen. The motion of drawing the sword from its back, lifting its arms and, co-incidentally, its breast plate. I cut through the abdominal wall, making its entrails fall out. I immediately regretted it, as the demon was unphased by it and the smell of rotting flesh nearly made me gag.

Why would a demon need guts when it’s possessing a corpse? Stupid, stupid, _stupid_.

I stepped out of the way of the great-sword being swung down and hit it aside with both my rapiers, attempting to cut again in the process. My blades found plate, but tasted flesh when I brought them back up along the demon’s neck. It didn’t quite sever the head, which hung sideways at an awkward angle. But Sten fixed that by tearing it off with his enormous hands. He dropped it to the floor casually and looked at me sternly.

“Your blades are getting dull, Kadan, you should take better care of them.” I frowned, they had needed a lot more maintenance ever since I fled Highever, as they saw much more use. And I hadn’t sharpened them after venturing down the Deep Roads, where they had hit stone and steel a lot. Be it from a hitting armour, a golem, or from being swung too hard. Fighting for my life on an average daily basis for nearly a year had made me considerably stronger.

“It would seem so,” I replied, wiping and resheathing my weapons.

“Search the room, maybe we can find something useful,” I ordered and started with the desk. It revealed an old and slightly molted diary, hidden in a secret compartment, containing much more reliable information on Sophia Dryden. Unfortunately, it also made it look like it was indeed Sophia Dryden who intended to use the gateway as a means of fighting off the King’s men. _If_ necessary. Which it had been, the state of the fort and the bodies in it were testament to that. The diary spoke of the mage that had created the gateway, Avernus. Sophia and Avernus apparently had very similar, and flexible, morals when it came to blood magic.

I briefly considered hiding it from Levi, but decided against it. There would be other ways for him to find out what happened. So I gave it to him, and his face grew ever darker as he started reading it. Other than that, there wasn’t much that was particularly useful related to the inner workings of the Grey Wardens. King Arland probably seized it all. Lucky us his men never found the diary. I suppose it takes a rogue, not a knight.

We took the Commander’s armour off the headless corpse of Sophia Dryden, stowing it away for possible later use. Alistair remarked that the Commander’s plate armor might be fitting. As well as a more solid form of protection than the leather and ironbark armour I wore. I refused. We continued our sweep of the tower until we came to the east wing. Where we found a mage.

Alive.

“Shh, I hear you, I’ll be right with you,” the man said while carefully handling a dark substance, “I need to finish this first.”

I stopped dead in my tracks, which caused Alistair to bump into me from behind. He caught my arm before I could stumble. I shot him a surprised look, this was the last way I expected someone who had been trapped in a tower full of demons to react to people coming into his hiding place. Alistair shrugged and gave me a sideways look.

“Are you nearly finished,” I asked after a few minutes of silence on the mage’s part.  
“Yes, yes, I just need to…” he swirled a bottle with some kind of liquid and straightened after dropping something in it, “there.” He turned.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, I raised an eyebrow.  
“Let’s start with who you are,” I replied, the mage shook his head.  
“Of course, where are my manners,” he gave a slight bow, “I am Avernus, Grey Warden and a mage in the service of the Order.”

“Is that so?” I asked, not hiding my surprise, “and, how old are you? Exactly?” The mage frowned.  
“What a strange question,” he muttered and looked pensive. “One-hundred-seventy, eighty? I lost track, time flies when I am occupied with my research, what year is it?”

 _Damn._ At least he was upfront about it.

“9:30 Dragon… How is that possible?” Alistair mused, studying the man in front of us with what I had started calling, ‘the Templar glare.’  
“Well, I’ve been trapped here until you came along. The demons are currently attempting to replenish their numbers. I suppose I have you to thank for this temporary imbalance?” Avernus continued matter-of-factly, “in the meantime I have continued my research which has enabled me to expand my lifespan.”  
“How do we know you’re not possessed?” Alistair replied. Avernus frowned.  
“You’ve met Sophia, haven’t you.” He sighed, “while my life is being sustained by a similar source, my mind, and my volition, are intact.”  
“So you say,” Alistair retorted. Avernus waved his hands in frustration.  
“Bah, this is getting us nowhere. You’ll either take me for my word, or you don’t. Either way, that gateway needs to be closed.”

“I don’t trust him,” Leliana said quietly, “he has used the forbidden arts, Maker guide us.”  
“My research is deemed forbidden by short-sighted men, not by any god,” Avernus snapped, “enough. Why are you here?” I raised a hand to keep Alistair and Leliana from speaking.

“To reclaim Soldier’s Peak for the Grey Wardens,” I said, “and yes, we’d prefer the gateway closed.” Morrigan chuckled.  
“How practical of you to see it that way. I say this man’s knowledge could benefit us greatly.”  
“Of course, _you_ would say that,” Wynne retorted.  
“Enough,” I snapped over my shoulder.

“Tell us what happened here, from the beginning,” I asked Avernus and sat down on a wooden box.

Avernus began by explaining the situation in Ferelden when King Arland ruled, how Sophia had once staked a claim to the throne, and how the Bannorn’s support had led Arland to spare her and allow her to join the Grey Wardens after imprisoning her. When King Arland proved himself a tyrant, the nobles turned to Sophia, requesting she intercede. She agreed, and this had spurned the rebellion that had been the reason the Grey Wardens had been outlawed until King Maric reinstated them.

King Arland attacked Soldier’s Peak, which would end in Sophia’s death after months of being under siege. In those months, Sophia’s desperation had led her to use Avernus’s research as a means of defence. Thinking he could control the demons, he opened the gateway on Sophia’s order when King Arland’s men finally broke through and swarmed the fort. They had been starving by then. Avernus fled to his tower when he discovered he had succeeded in opening the gateway, but could not control the demons that came out of it. They slaughtered both sides, and the fort had been abandoned ever since.

It explained why Arland’s forces had left so hastily, not bothering to claim the Peak in their King’s name. Avernus had been researching a way to close the gateway, but had been unable to do it by himself, as it would require a ritual. And the demons, being demons, did not agree that closing the portal was a good idea. Avernus needed our help, and we needed his. I was willing to overlook what he did for that.

“Once I begin the ritual, I need you to keep the demons from reaching me. I won’t be able to defend myself and need to start over if I get interrupted. If I survive any interruption,” Avernus said took a vial of… lyrium? from his robe. He curtsied before downing it and began the ritual.

Alistair ordered, Wynne, Morrigan, Zevran, and Leliana to form a protective circle around Avernus. Alistair and I would be at the front with Shale to meet the first demons and scatter them. Oghren, Sten, and Asher would take out as many as they could. Any that made it past them, would be taken down by Morrigan and Zevran while Wynne and Leliana focussed on support. I had laced my rapiers with a paralysing agent I got from Zevran. Hopefully, it would work on demons too.

We got to work as the first lesser shades made it through. Cutting them down systematically. Oghren got cut by a claw from one of the lesser shades that got past our front line, but was quickly healed by Wynne and he killed his opponent with a mighty roar and a delighted laugh. An arrow from Leliana downed a rage demon before it could fully step through the gateway, but the one that followed burst through with a vicious attack. I ducked to the side and Alistair leapt forward with his shield held high, protecting me from another slash. He brought his longsword down on it as I slashed upward, our combined effort immediately killing it.

“Thanks,” I said before engaging the next creature coming through the gateway.  
“Any time, love,” Alistair replied and brought down his longsword again when I kicked the demon his way. Whatever Avernus was doing, it seemed to _attract_ the demons. They kept pouring through, and we kept cutting them down. We started encountering slightly stronger demons with each wave, lesser shades became rage demons, rage demons became greater shades, greater shades became ash wraiths, until finally, a desire demon came through.

It hit me with a burst of lightning, knocking me back and causing me to drop my blades. I rolled to a stop and convulsed, unable to control the movements of my muscles. There was nothing I could do but ride it out and trust that my companions would keep the desire demon away from me. That last bit came easily, but enduring the violent involuntary contractions of my muscles did not. By the time I regained control over my body, the desire demon had been defeated and Alistair was at my side.

I groaned, breathing heavily.  
 _“Fuck,”_ I groaned, dragging out the word.  
“That hurt,” I said and sat up a little with Alistair’s help.  
“Are you ok?” Alistair asked. I briefly convulsed again, and would have been flat on the floor again if Alistair hadn’t been supporting me.  
“Peachy,” I said with a slight twitch on the left side of my face, “did the ritual work?” Alistair looked up at Avernus, who gave a slight smile and a nod. He looked exhausted.  
“The gateway is closed,” he said, “the Peak is yours.” He paused, “save for a few you might have missed earlier, I recommend a full sweep.” I managed to give him a thumbs-up.

“Yeah, ok, let’s do that,” I croaked before convulsing again.  
“You’re not doing anything for a few hours,” Alistair said and held me a little tighter.  
“Nope,” I assented and submitted myself to his fussing. Sten, Morrigan, Oghren, Shale, and Zevran offered to sweep the fort. Leliana and Wynne would stay with, Alistair, Avernus, Levi, Asher, and me. Just in case trouble came to find _us_. Levi wasn’t trained to fight, and would be safer if he remained. Avernus was exhausted from the ritual, I was spasming like crazy, and Alistair and Asher wouldn’t leave my side. Thus the seven of us remained, and tried to rest a bit.

Alistair, Wynne, and Leliana quietly discussed what we should do with Avernus. None of them were inclined to let him go on his merry way. I listened to their conversation while I watched Avernus, who sat slumped against a wall on the other side of the room. Asher was doing the same, occasionally turning an ear towards our companions. They were considering handing Avernus over to the Chantry and its Templars, but we were unsure of how powerful he was. And given the remote location of Soldier’s Peak, that would mean either containing him for an unknown amount of time, or taking him to the Templars ourselves. It would expose us to a lot of risks we weren’t willing to take.

A mixed feeling crept up as I sat watching Avernus. Revolt, a desire to distance myself from him, and hopeful curiosity, an eagerness to gain Avernus’ knowledge. He had not only survived, he withstood the Calling for almost two centuries. I wanted to know how he did that.

Avernus met my eyes as the conversation between my companions got more heated. His stare made the hairs on the back of my neck rise, I didn’t like it, my body was screaming at me that this was a terrible, perhaps even sadistic, man. I disliked him, very much. And yet, there was an appeal to him.

It took me a while to figure out what it was, how could someone who did the things _he_ did have an appeal? He lacked something, some trait that should have been there if he met my expectations of him. It was an absence of some kind.

I looked further, what drove this man to do what he did? Any loved ones would be long dead, he wouldn’t have a home to return to anymore. He had occupied his time with his research all those years. Was he really that devoted to it? Or had his spirit eroded like Zathrian’s had? No, he was whole. And while he felt like he didn’t belong, like Zathrian and Flemeth had, he didn’t seem to be hiding what he was. In fact, he was a little annoyed that some of my companions had reacted as could be expected of them. A sentiment shared by Morrigan.

Alistair, Leliana, and Wynne, immediately assumed he was a monster. But that was just it, he wasn’t. This man, terrible as he may be, wasn’t evil. So what did he want, now that the gateway had been closed? Why wasn’t he running?

I smiled internally when I put the pieces together. His kind of research would be outlawed by the Chantry, if he wanted to pursue it, he would have a hard time doing it anywhere but here. At Soldier’s Peak, far away from people in the tower that held most everything he needed. He was a Grey Warden, conducting research on an order given centuries ago, and he was doing it on Grey Warden property. The Chantry couldn’t do anything to him here unless they marched on the fort, starting an open war.

Well… technically there were only three Grey Wardens in Ferelden now, that probably doesn’t exactly count as a force that could wage war. But, we were exceptionally tough to kill, and capable of a lot more than three regular people could account for. We also had a lot of allies, but I didn’t dare counting on their support if the Chantry declared us criminals and heretics. They might give the Chantry pause though.

But, the Chantry _didn’t know_ anything about Avernus and the things he occupied himself with. And he not only depended on us to continue his work, he depended on us to keep his secrets too. Avernus seemed to have drawn the same conclusion when he gave me a slight bow of his head. He was surrendering.

My thoughts then wandered to how I could convince Alistair to let Avernus continue his research here at the Peak. We could probably restrict him to ethical ways of research, and his knowledge, both arcane and about the inner workings of the Grey Wardens, could benefit us for years to come. And there was no doubt that Avernus held some answers for us that we desperately needed, sooner or later. After all, Ferelden’s King might die a violent death in the Deep Roads, alongside his Queen, after about thirty years of rule. Give or take.

The realisation hit me hard. I was starting to see Alistair and myself as King and Queen of Ferelden. Oh, Maker, I wasn’t one of those people who went delusional once they got into a position of great power, was I? I wielded more power now than I had ever thought possible, I had an army at my back, powerful allies who would follow me to dethrone a despot. Thus making Alistair King, and myself his Queen. I determined I was getting a little ahead of myself. But, King and Queen or not, Avernus had answers we needed. We could use each other.

“You are a Grey Warden, are you not?” I asked Avernus loud enough to startle Alistair, Wynne, and Leliana out of their conversation. Avernus gave a nod.  
“Indeed I am. I have conducted my research on behalf of the Grey Wardens,” he replied.  
“Before this mess with the demons started, what was the aim of you research?” I asked curiously.  
“It was my intend to unlock the power the Taint holds, and use it to make Grey Wardens even stronger,” he explained, growing more animated as he spoke, “more formidable in battle, more _effective_ against darkspawn, in control over demons!”  
“Why research the Taint specifically, couldn’t you get the same results with blood magic?” I asked.  
“Against demons, blood magic is all but useless. Blood magic _comes_ from demons, they would be able to counter any trick I know. But the Taint, that is alien to them,” he replied.  
“So you sought to increase its benefits,” I mused, “shouldn’t take that much, the nightmares, the constant buzzing in your head when they’re near, dying under a rock in the Deep Roads in about thirty years. Which, _I_ won’t be doing by the way. I’ve seen what darkspawn do to the women they take,” I answered, giving Avernus the momentum he needed.

“If the Deep Roads are out of the question, what do you intend to do once you start hearing the Calling?” Avernus asked. This got Alistair’s attention.  
“Poison, most likely. But I have thirty years to come up with something appropriately creative,” I replied with a slight smirk. Avernus didn’t speak, he was waiting for me to ask how he had done it. He didn’t want to dangle the prize in front of me, making it look like he convinced me to let him stay and continue his work. It had to come from me.

“How did you do it?” I finally asked, “you withstood the Calling for nearly two-hundred years. I want to know how.” Avernus hesitated, unsure of what I expected to hear from him.  
“That… is not easily explained,” he said hesitantly.  
“Meaning it involved blood magic?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“In a way,” Avernus replied, “though not as you may think. The Calling comes from the Taint taking over your body.”  
“And the Taint is carried in our blood,” I finished.  
“Yes,” he answered, “the body eventually succumbs to the Taint. Most would tell you that’s because the Taint acts like a slow poison, but the truth is more complicated than that.”  
“How so?”

“You have encountered giant spiders?”  
“Of course.”  
“Those spiders, don’t start out as giants. True, they are quite a few sizes bigger when they hatch than any regular adult spider. But these spiders continue to grow throughout their lives. The older the spider, the bigger it becomes. Yet why is it that we never see one, say, big as a house? If it got old enough, it should get big enough, agreed?” I nodded.  
“Some have speculated this is simply their average life-expectancy. The body ages, like ours would, and finally it is so worn down that it stops functioning. Others have attributed this to people’s tendency to uproot any nests to eliminate the threat. Eradication by another species. But let me ask you this, have you ever seen anything that could be the spider-equivalent of wrinkles of grey hair, for example? Signs of age other than size?” I thought about it, and shook my head. Spiders were spiders, some were bigger than others but there was no such thing as a senior spider with grey hairs on it’s nasty legs instead of black ones.  
“The reason for this apparent limit to its growth, is not due to decline of the body, it’s due to the _size_ of the body. Not all parts of its body continue to grow endlessly. The organs, once the spider has reached maturity, do not continue to grow with the rest of the body. Eventually, the body gets too big for the organs to sustain it, and thus the spider weakens, and dies.”  
“Get to the point,” Leliana interrupted.

Avernus shot her a cold look before looking back at me.  
“The Taint is known to get stronger in Grey Wardens over time, they sense the darkspawn more accurately, learn to listen in, etcetera. It’s power grows. And like the spider's organs cannot sustain the size of its body, our bodies eventually cannot sustain the power the Taint grants us.”  
“Then why enhance it? Wouldn’t that mean an even shorter lifespan?” I asked.  
“Clever,” Avernus nodded appreciatively, “it does indeed.”

Alistair and I shared a look. My ability to sense darkspawn was far more powerful than it had any right to be, did that mean the Taint was growing at an accelerated speed? Did I _really_ have thirty years, as things stood? I could see Alistair start to draw his conclusions. I hadn’t seen this coming, I was steering the conversation so he would get an idea of the benefits of letting Avernus continue his work, but this went a lot further than I had foreseen. I never meant to emotionally blackmail him with my well-being. But I had to know.

“Did you find a way to counter that?” I asked. Avernus lips twisted into a small smile.  
“A balance can be maintained, yes. By enhancing the body, as well as the Taint. The body must be compatible with the power it holds, thus it needs to be changed.”  
“Into what?” I asked slowly. Avernus chuckled a little.  
“It doesn’t have to change _fundamentally_ , my dear, it’s not like the change one undergoes when becoming an abomination. The body remains as it is, but it becomes… more. Faster, stronger, tougher to break. But this change will not show in appearance, nor will it affect personality, volition, or sanity. The body will always be, first and foremost, as it was. In your case, a human woman.”  
“And in your case, a human man?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“Yes,” he said with a nod, “though if you are asking if this is how I have extended my own life-span, it’s not. That is another branch of research.”

“How do we know if he is telling the truth?” Wynne said with a frown. Avernus shrugged apologetically.  
“You don’t.”  
“What could he gain by lying,” Leliana asked no-one in particular. 

“Alistair, can we have a word?” I asked and gingerly moved to get up. He quickly stepped closer to help me get up and support me as we stepped into an adjacent room.  
“I think we need to let Avernus stay here and continue his research,” I said quietly as Alistair closed the door behind us. He let out a deep sigh, facing the door.  
“Fela… this is a blood mage, one who got hundreds of people killed with his actions. We can’t just let that slide,” he said apologetically, I nodded.  
“He’s a monster, I know. But…”  
“But you don’t want to die from the Taint,” Alistair finished, “I know, I understand.” He turned to face me and took me into his arms, “I don’t want you to die from the Taint either.”  
“It’s not just that, Alistair, he could have so many answers for us. About the Joining, the Calling, the Taint itself…” I replied, leaning in against his chest.  
“We need him. Avernus holds all the answers we came here for, and more.”  
“I know,” Alistair replied, resting his cheek on the top of my head, “it’s a choice I’d rather not make, but he is more use to us alive and working in his tower than locked up or dead. The Blight is the bigger threat.”  
“Then why does it feel like we’re trying to justify a selfish action…” I whispered.  
“In a way, we are,” he whispered back.

“I disagree,” Morrigan said as she and Zevran rounded the corner, followed by Sten, Oghren, and Shale.  
“You disagree with what?” Alistair said with a tired frown.  
“Using the Grey Warden mage’s knowledge to fight this Blight, keep yourselves alive, and rebuild the order, isn’t selfish,” she said and crossed her arms, “it’s practical. You need to be alive to see this through, do you not? And you’ll need to be alive to rebuild your Order.”  
“She’s right,” Zevran added, “and if that means you two get a happily ever after out of it, I’d say it’s well deserved.” Morrigan scoffed and rolled her eyes, but said nothing to contradict him.

“What the lady is saying,” Oghren said in his raspy voice, “is quit whining and use any tool you can get. You got a fort, an army to put in it, you got a crazy wizard, things are pretty good if you think about it.”  
“I believe listing and enlarging all your faults and mistakes is part of Ferelden culture,” Zevran added.  
“One would think its short life-span would spurn it to enjoy what it has when it has it, instead of feeling guilty about it,” Shale added. Sten just growled.

My face twisted into a frown, as well as a smile at their masked words of support. Save for Zevran, he was being honest.

“Your pragmatism makes my life easier,” I said with a lopsided grin.  
“You should try it yourself,” Morrigan replied dryly as she brushed past and opened the door to the main chamber. Avernus got to his feet as Alistair and I followed directly behind Morrigan.  
“Have you decided what you’ll do with me?” Avernus asked.  
“I think we can both benefit from this situation, actually,” I replied, pausing for effect as I watched Avernus turn sideways a little. The small gesture served as an invitation to go on.  
“We need all the help and strength we can get, fighting this Blight. I propose you get back to your research, your knowledge and results will aid us. You can continue to do so under the protection of the Order, provided you limit yourself to ethical means,” I emphasized the last bit. “I would also ask to speak to you in private about a related matter,” I looked at Avernus expectantly. He smiled.

“I couldn’t agree more, let me show you what I’ve been working on, we can talk in the privacy of my laboratory,” he said graciously and moved to stand. Alistair turned to our companions.  
“Set up camp and take a rest. If you want to go explore, go in pairs. I don’t want anyone killed by a demon we missed.” He was met by general agreement, and we followed Avernus, Asher padding after us happily.

* * *

“What can I help you with?” Avernus said courteously as he closed the door behind us.

“The progression of the Taint,” I said, “I need to know if it’s progressing at an accelerated rate within me.”  
“What makes you ask such a question?” Avernus said with an encouraging gesture. I hesitated.

“My Lady, I need to know what is going on to help you properly. Why do you worry the Taint is progressing at an accelerated rate within you? I might be able to evaluate the symptoms,” he said with the patience of a healer. I raised an eyebrow, but conceded.  
“I appear to sense the darkspawn far more accurately than I should. Not long ago, I scoped out a battlefield, getting an estimate of their numbers and positions on sense alone. I’ve been a Grey Warden for eleven months now.”  
“Was your estimate accurate?” Avernus asked curiously.  
“Dead on,” Alistair said, keeping a watchful eye on the mage.  
“Interesting,” he said and rubbed his chin, “are there any other amplified effects? How are you sleeping?”  
“I have nightmares more often than not, but that was a pre-existing condition. Dreams about the horde occur about four or five times per week, they have been receding a bit since my Joining,” I replied.

“The nightmares that aren’t about the horde, what has caused them?” Avernus inquired, making notes on a piece of parchment.  
“Trauma,” I said and took a breath, “I killed a man at eleven years old to stop him from raping me. And a little less than a year ago, I lost my family and my home.”  
“Any intrusive whispers?” Avernus asked, searching though texts and notes.  
“Not that I’ve noticed, I pick up whispers when there are darkspawn nearby. Barring that I haven’t noticed any intrusive whispers,” I replied.  
“How are you feeling physically, are you feeling fit?” Avernus continued.  
“I feel fine, in better shape than when all of this started anyway,” I replied. Avernus nodded, apparently he had found the text he was looking for and was trailing his finger down the lines of text.

“I have here, a medical record of a Grey Warden who’s Taint developed at an accelerated rate. What you describe does not match with the symptoms described in here,” Avernus said, handing me the bundle of papers.  
“While it is indeed common for older Grey Wardens to gain sharper senses, this patient did not. She did, however, experience headaches, intrusive whispers when no darkspawn were nearby, headaches, the frequency of her nightmares was higher than that of any initiate I’ve known, and her magical power grew weaker. It would appear, that what you are experiencing is the exact opposite. I cannot rule out accelerated development of the Taint based on these symptoms alone, but it seems unlikely at first glance,” Avernus said and folded his hands behind his back.

“Could you? Rule it out?” I asked. Avernus nodded.  
“I could, but you would have to put a lot of trust in me.”  
“How so?” Alistair asked with narrowed eyes.  
“Before I answer that, I will say this; you are in no way obliged to put any more trust in me than you feel comfortable with. Should you decline what I offer, I will accept your refusal without question,” Avernus said and looked at me insistently.

“Alright, so how could you rule out accelerated development of the Taint?” I asked.  
“I would need a vial of your blood to run some tests,” Avernus replied and clasped his hands behind his back.

Dealing with blood mages, rule number one; _never_ let a maleficar get any of your blood. Alistair spoke before I could answer.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a sharp gesture, “you are not getting a _single_ _drop_.”  
“Forgive me, but it is not you who decides what she does with her blood. I only act according to the will of my patient, not to the will of another,” Avernus said crisply, “nonetheless, your apprehension at this suggestion is grounded. After all, if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t give my blood to a stranger. Let alone one I knew for a ‘maleficar,’ the Chantry is correct in some of its warnings, at least.”

“What sorts of tests would you run?” I asked.  
“You are not actually considering this, are you?” Alistair asked incredulously. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  
“I’m just making sure I know what it is that I am refusing.” Judging from the look he gave me, Alistair felt there was no need for such a thing.

“Fela, he could do horrible things to you if he possessed even a single drop of your blood. There is power in it, the risks are endless,” he replied urgently, putting his hand over mine where it rested on his shoulder.  
“He is not wrong, my Lady,” Avernus said apologetically, “this is exactly why I warned you that you would have to put an irresponsible amount of trust in me. But to answer your question, I would put a drop of blood between two thin panes of glass, like these,” he held up to circular pieces so thin, I could have shattered them by just picking them up between my thumb and index finger.

“By studying them under a specially made, ground lens, I could determine how far the Taint has developed. That would give me an idea of your current condition, which I can then compare with other samples from other Wardens who have carried the Taint for much longer than yourself. From that I will be able to determine if you are still in the early stages or not. By repeating the process periodically and monitoring your progress, I could give you a definitive answer on your question.”  
“You have a collection of samples?” I asked curiously?  
“No,” Avernus replied, “decay would render any samples useless after a time. I’ve sketched and catalogued the samples I have collected over the years.”  
“Can you show me?” Avernus smiled and nodded before pulling out a folder filled with sketches.

Avernus seemed exited to share his knowledge with me, and patiently answered all my questions. He reminded me of my old tutor at Highever, Brother Aldous. Aldous was happiest when he found a pupil who was interested in the things he had to teach. In my case, that meant a lot of animated lessons on a variety of subjects, mostly languages. When he had taught me all he had to teach on Orlesian and Antivan, I had continued to study different languages on my own, which made him proud as a mother hen. Avernus reminded me of that, he delighted in sharing his knowledge, and soon I forgot I was supposed to mistrust him.

Finally, he offered to show me how the tests would be done so I could conduct it myself, thus remaining in control of what happened to my blood. Alistair begrudgingly agreed to let me run the tests myself under Avernus’ guidance, though he insisted he remained to watch. To make sure Avernus didn’t do anything funny, I’m sure, but he didn’t say so.

So, I pricked the back of my hand with my dagger to let a drop of blood fall on the delicate, thin glass of the preparate. I quickly wiped the blood off my hand before putting a second thin piece of glass on top, making the blood spread between them. Avernus offered advice as I worked, how to lay on the glass so I wouldn’t get any air-bubbles caught in between, where to position the preparate, and how to adjust the lens to get a clear image.

He was enjoying his role as mentor, perhaps I should get him an assistant? He had not told us how he extended his life, and I suspected the method would not be within the boundaries of what Alistair and I deemed ethical. It made sense to make sure he had a successor, someone to transfer his knowledge to.

I leafed through the catalogue of sketches Avernus had accumulated during his research, though he had organised them chronologically, I ended up leafing through the entire thing, never finding a sketch that matched the image I got through the lens. Not even the ones that had belonged to new Grey Wardens. Then I went through the entire thing a second time, just to be sure. Avernus watched me expectantly as I worked.

“And? What are your conclusions.”  
“You’re the expert, but I can’t find a single sketch that resembles what my blood looks like under that lens,” I said with a frown. Avernus arched an eyebrow.  
“None?” he asked slowly.  
“None,” I affirmed.  
“That can’t be right,” he mumbled and moved to look through the lens, “may I?” he asked, gesturing to the apparatus. I nodded.

“Fascinating,” he mumbled as he looked through the lens, “the cells show no signs of decay, yet the corruption has formed a kind of membrane around them. It hasn’t attacked the cells, but it seems to bind itself to them.” I blinked.  
“So, you agree? It doesn’t look like your sketches?”  
“No, my dear, not at all,” Avernus said with a glimmer of excitement, “this is something else entirely.”  
“Have you ever seen anything like it before?” I asked with a sigh, already knowing the answer. This was raising more questions than it was answering, and I didn’t like it.

“Like this exactly, no,” Avernus said, “but I’ve come across something that may be similar.” He started rummaging through stacks of parchment.  
“I’ve pursued different directions of study,” he said as he searched.  
“Have you ever heard of reavers?” he asked, briefly looking up at me before continuing his search.  
“I’ve come across texts mentioning them when we destroyed a dragon cult,” I said thoughtfully.

“To become a reaver, one must consume dragon’s blood,” Avernus continued, “it enables the subject to feed off pain and death, thus restoring his own health and stamina. The body utilises other substances to sustain itself, it consumes them,” Avernus explained, pulling out several scrolls, “it makes the subject incredibly hard to kill.”

I thought back to my battle with Kolgrim, he may not have been the best fighter I had ever seen, but killing him was not easy. He had sustained a remarkable number of injuries, and was still fighting when I finally semi-decapitated him. The bastard had also gotten a kick out of hitting me where I was injured. It roughly matched what Avernus described about reavers, and Kolgrim wouldn’t have had a lot of trouble getting his hands on a substantial amount of dragon blood.

Oh shit, _Flemeth_.

“How much blood would you need to consume to become a reaver?” I asked cautiously.  
“A good pint at least,” Avernus replied as he put the scrolls on the table we were working on.

Well, that was something. I had gotten nowhere near a pint when I ingested some of Flemeth’s blood during that particular battle. Although, when Flemeth nearly killed Alistair, my vision became a red blur for a short time. But it didn’t seem likely to me that I had swallowed more than a mouthful. Which by no means amounted to a pint.

“Ah, here we are,” Avernus said crisply and showed me a sketch that looked a bit more like what my blood looked like under the lens.  
“You see those dark spots in the middle of the cells,” Avernus continued pointing to his sketch, “that’s how you can tell this blood belongs to a reaver. But in your case,” he paused and moved back to the lens, “the centre is brighter, as is the case for what you could call ‘regular’ blood. But compared to any other sample, be it human, elven, dwarfish, or qun, yours has far lighter cell centres.”  
“So… reavers get darker centres, and I have lighter ones…” I said slowly, unsure what he was getting at.  
“Yes,” he said with an excited nod, “ _and_ the Taint doesn’t appear to corrupt your cells, it _co-exists._ ”

“Does it rule out an accelerated progression of the Taint?” Alistair asked, startling Avernus and me out of our conversation.  
“Yes,” Avernus replied, “from what I can tell, the Taint is affecting you differently, but it’s not growing at an accelerated rate.” I frowned and gave a nod.  
“Well, that’s one question answered… And now I have a ton of new ones,” I added wryly.  
“As do I,” Avernus replied, studying me curiously.  
“Before you ask,” I said with a wave of my hand, “the only time I ever ingested blood intentionally, was during my Joining.”  
“Which poses another question,” Avernus said with a gleam in his eyes, “what did your blood look like _before_ your Joining?” I shrugged.  
“Red. I have never looked at it under a lens before today.” Avernus gave me a stern look.  
“Your indifferent response is troubling, young lady.” I looked back at him blankly.  
“Enlighten me,” I said dryly.

“Your blood looks different from that of other people, it _interacts_ differently with the Taint. My dear girl, if I didn’t just see you prepare that sample I wouldn’t have believed it came from you,” Avernus replied impatiently. I frowned.  
“Well, it did. So instead of trying to make me guess at what you’re getting at, I suggest you start explaining.”

Avernus went on that the centres of the cells looked lighter due to their shape, they were thicker around the edges and the light passing through them made them look like little circles with brighter centres. They were in fact, solid discs, with a depression in the middle on each side. Avernus hypothesised my blood cells looked brighter because they were thinner, which should have caused all kinds of bodily disfunctions, but it didn’t. According to him, it was possible that this was caused by a change later in life, like the darker cells in reaver blood. If this was the case, we had no idea what could have caused it. He assumed the odd shape of my blood cells was the reason the Taint interacted differently with them. Their shape possibly made it more difficult for the Taint to invade them. I wasn’t so sure, if the centres of my cells were indeed thinner, shouldn’t that make them more vulnerable? At least in those places…

The conversation soon changed to how he had enhanced the Taint. He explained the process of his research in great detail, by amplifying certain traits, and reducing others, he had changed the way the Taint affected the body and had unlocked some of its power. At least, that’s what he called it. He had been researching ways to make the Joining safer as well. The high mortality rate was not doing the Order any favours, and it would slow the process of rebuilding. Our conversation didn’t end until the sun had set and the moon had risen.

It left me exhausted and frustrated, for every answer, there were ten new questions. And it was starting to wear on me. After briefly bickering with Alistair, I convinced him to let me walk the battlements with Asher. He didn’t like the idea of me wandering the fort alone, even though our companions had cleared it out. While his concern was endearing, having people around me constantly had me climbing the walls.

It had been a busy day.

* * *

I drew shapes in the snow on the battlements as I went over the day’s event in my head. Deciding it turned out better than I had expected.

While Avernus creeped me out, he was a treasure trove of knowledge about anything related to Grey Wardens or the Taint. Though he was more interested in how the Taint was currently affecting me and what that would mean for his formula to enhance it. I wasn’t inclined to let him pursue that. Useful he may be, but that didn’t mean I would trust him blindly. Neither was I willing to be his test subject.

I stared out over the battlements at the surrounding mountains, trying to clear my head of the thoughts currently running through it. It felt like my mind was buzzing like a beehive, restless and over-crowded. I listed out my thoughts one by one, as I always did. Attempting to create some order in the chaos. I wasn't particularly successful in this endeavor.

Asher padded through the snow, occasionally digging around absently with one paw.   
“What the hell are we doing here, Asher,” I sighed. He cocked his head at me, giving me a patient look. I gave him a small smile and knelt to pet his shoulders.   
“The Maker really dropped the ball on this one, didn’t he? Leaving the fate of a nation in the hands of a couple of maniacs like us,” I shook my head, “I guess he was out of true heroes. Poor planning on his part, I say.” Asher gruffed and gave me a sad puppy-dog look.   
“You wouldn’t have dropped the ball like that, would you boy?” I continued with a smirk and produced a fist-sized ball filled with dried peas Wynne had knitted for him to play with from my cloak. Asher started to wag his tail excitedly and stood, waiting for me to throw the ball. I was about to speak when I heard Alistair’s voice.

“You _didn’t_ just compare your dog to the Maker,” he chuckled as he crossed the battlements to wrap an arm around my shoulders.   
“Blasphemy, I know,” I replied with a lopsided grin and stood to kiss his cheek. He took the ball from my hand, and threw it in a wide arc. Asher followed it at top-speed.

“Decided to come check on me, did you?” I moved my arms under his cloak to wrap them around his waist, finding that he had changed into regular clothes. He pulled me in against his chest so my head rested in the curve of his neck.   
“Well, you did just discover your blood looks different from what it should. I thought you might need some comfort,” he replied. I closed my eyes contently at the way his voice sounded with my ear against the crook of his neck, I could feel it resonate deeply in his chest. It was remarkably soothing.

“Maybe you’re right,” I admitted.

It fell into place then, why my mind had been racing, stumbling, and scattering in every direction at once. Why I had a pitch black pit in my stomach.

“What if there really _is_ something wrong with me?” I whispered. Alistair moved so he could put his hand under my chin to make me face up and look into his eyes.   
“Listen carefully,” he said, “nothing is _wrong_ with you, my love.” I bit my lip to swallow a sob.   
“But-”   
“No,” Alistair said firmly, “nothing is wrong, you are just as you should be.” He let go of my chin and wrapped both his arms around me.

“You told me once,” he began in a softer tone, “that you spent a long time believing there was something inherently wrong with you. And I know you still do sometimes. But what you saw under that lens, proves nothing. The glass could have been dirty, or flawed, for all we know. Yes, you can do some things that other people can’t, I know you feel different because of it. And, in a way, you are. But don’t you believe for a second that that means there is something wrong with you.”

Hot tears streamed down my cheeks and stained his tunic as I quietly sobbed against his chest. He gently rubbed my back as he let me cry it out. He didn’t say anything, he knew I didn’t need more conversation for a moment. I was scared, of something I didn’t even fully understand. But it was terrifying nonetheless. It was proof that there was something different about me, for better or worse.

So Alistair held me, stroking my back in silence. Asher had flopped down next to me and leaned against my legs, quietly whining. I let go of Alistair with one hand to stroke Asher’s head, he nuzzled my fingers and whined low in his throat.

“He agrees with me,” Alistair said, breaking his silence. I chuckled and sniffed.   
“You speak dog now, do you?”   
“Well, I _was_ raised by a pack of dogs,” he replied and kissed the top of my head.   
“Why don’t you come inside to warm up a bit, I think Wynne has made tea,” he said as he released me from his embrace.

He led me back inside where our companions had a hot fire going, Leliana was playing her lute and all were quietly listening. It suited me perfectly. Wynne wordlessly offered me a cup of tea after I had settled back against Alistair’s chest, sitting between his legs so he could wrap his arms around me. Asher snuggled up next to us, sighing contently. None of our friends asked after Avernus. Alistair’s doing, I’m sure. It was nice, the warmth, the music, the lack of conversations, the company… It was a lot better than standing out in the cold on the battlements.

Eventually I eased off to sleep in Alistair’s arms, only briefly waking to move to a bedroll later that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm starting to divert more and more. I know. But while writing this, I felt the end coming, and I wasn't ready to let go of this fic. In fact, I'm not ready to end this fic to this day. And is has to go somewhere after the Blight, so that's where that is going.


	46. Back to Denerim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group goes back to Denerim, where they have their first confrontation with Loghain and Howe. After that, they have work to do.

The next few days were spent searching the fort, trying to find anything that we could use. Shale, Sten, and Oghren started clearing the bones out while the rest of us sifted through old molted parchments and decayed books. Levi had gone to meet Bodahn by the mines to show him the way now that it was safe.

Alistair oversaw the arrival of our soldiers when they did, making sure they got settled in and had what they needed before he took the craftsmen with him to inspect the structure. Soldier’s Peak was in reasonable condition, yes, but that didn’t mean it was in particularly good condition. Notes were made, lists of supplies and materials written up, and Alistair transferred the matter to Levi. Who had also send word to his relatives that the Peak had been reclaimed, he was expecting them to arrive within a fortnight to come and help with the restoration of the fort.

He offered to stay on and work for us. He wasn’t a warrior, but a good merchant with the right connections was worth his weight in gold when you were running a fort. On top of that, he was expecting a cousin who could work as a smith. And if Levi was to be believed, he was a remarkably good one.

All in all, reclaiming Soldier’s Peak had been well worth the trouble. The Grey Wardens, all three of them with Avernus included, now had a base of operations outside of Denerim. We agreed to have about a third of our forces stationed here when the fort was ready to house that many people.

Why? Because having them all in one place puts you at risk of being pinned down. We couldn’t risk that, not when we had more than one enemy to deal with. Plus, this way we could march on Denerim from two directions if we needed to. We left the Peak in Levi’s capable hands, and left for Denerim as soon as we could. Eamon and Teagan would be waiting for us there. And hopefully, Magnus too.

* * *

Denerim loomed in the distance, even in the warm light of the sunrise, it looked bleak and dreary. More so than the last time we were there, and it had been slowly filling up with refugees then. I stood leaning against a tree, attempting to stare down the city where the Landsmeet would decide our fate.

“You look troubled, my friend,” came Leliana’s voice from behind. I hadn’t heard her footsteps, no one ever did.   
“Hmm,” I replied without averting my gaze.   
“You worry about the Landsmeet,” Leliana continued.   
“Don’t you?” I asked, turning to face her.   
“Of course,” she replied, “as things stand, we can’t be certain it will go our way. Loghain has a head start after all.”   
“And a nice reputation as the Hero of the River Dane,” I added.   
“For now,” Leliana replied, “he will have to change his strategy, now that you are taking the fight to him. It’s not as easy to demonise a person that can be seen and talked to. Which is exactly why I suspect he will seek you out publicly.”   
“Well, he won’t be meeting us at the gates,” I replied, “I don’t intend to waltz through there and expect everyone to smile and wave. That’s the way to get shot before we take three steps into the city.”   
“Indeed,” she answered and produced a bag, “you’ll need a disguise. And so does Alistair.” I smiled.   
“What did you have in mind?”

Later that day, I waddled into the city, looking heavily pregnant, with Wynne fussing over me like a mother who was about to become a grandmother for the first time. Alistair took on his role as nervous, over-protective, father-to-be perfectly, making sure nobody got to close to me and staring down anyone who looked like they might give us trouble.

Leliana had darkened his hair with some kind of powder, it took a lot of coaxing and arguing before Alistair agreed to let Leliana change his hair, though she had to promise it wasn't permanent about a thousand times.

My hair, black as it was, wasn’t so easily changed. But by braiding it and wearing a hood, that wouldn’t be much of a problem. Black hair wasn’t exactly common in Ferelden, but not unheard of. And under a hood it wouldn’t stand out as much. A dirty face and some ragged and dirty peasant clothes, a few bags, and we looked like ordinary refugees. The others would enter the city in small groups via different gates, so they wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention.

“You there!” I heard a voice call out, “come here for a moment.” The voice belonged to a guard.

_Shit._

“Yes? Kind sir,” I said meekly, adopting a southern accent and looking appropriately frightened.   
“What brings you to Denerim?” he inquired sternly. I gave him a scared and confused look before Wynne chimed in.   
“Young man, has your eyesight failed you?” she asked sharply. His eyes darted down toward my ‘belly’ and back up.   
“Babies can be had anywhere, why Denerim?” he replied. Wynne gave him her best disapproving look.   
“My _daughter_ is going to have a _child,_ during a _Blight!_ Do you have children? Would you have them anywhere but in the _safest_ city in the country? Where our good Queen and General Loghain can protect us?” she ranted on, “we have been running for our lives, and you question why we are here!? Have you been outside these gates? Have you run from darkspawn!? Fought for your life!?”

In the meantime, I had managed to squeeze out a few tears and put my arms around my ‘belly’ protectively, Alistair loomed over me staring at the guard furiously. We were starting to draw attention and several people had stopped to watch the confrontation. Seeing as most of them were refugees themselves, they sympathized more with a pregnant woman running to safety than a cranky guard.

Wynne continued bickering with the guard, guilting him and berating him like only Wynne could. Eventually We had drawn such a crowd that the guard’s superior came to intervene.   
“What is going on here?” he demanded.   
“These folks are trying to enter the city Ser,” the guard said, straightening his spine, “this woman looks a bit like the picture, Ser.” He gestured to me, and I took it as my cue to start crying and draw closer to Alistair. He put one arm around my shoulders, and one hand on my ‘belly’ protectively.

“Ser knight,” he said in the same accent that I had adopted, “my wife and I have been on the run since the darkspawn invaded our hometown in the Hinterlands. We have been travelling all day and she needs rest!”   
“Sodding fool,” the guard’s superior cursed and hit the back of his head, “does this _look_ like a Grey Warden assembling an army against our rightful King!?” he gestured to me, “in _that_ position!?” The guard shook his head.   
“No Ser.”   
“Get back to your post, recruit, don’t let me see you harassing pregnant women again!” The guard sauntered off as his superior turned back to us, “you can move along now, and congratulations.”   
“Thank you Ser,” Wynne grasped his hand with both of hers, “we’ve been through so much…”   
“It’s alright ma’am, the lad is just a bit overzealous in his duties,” he said and turned to Alistair and me, “is it your first?” I nodded and looked away shyly.   
“Ah, I remember what it was like when my wife was pregnant of our first,” he nodded, “congratulations.” With that he turned, and we were free to enter the city.

When we were well out of earshot of the guards at the gates, Alistair let out a relieved sigh.   
“I was _sure_ they were going to see through our disguises,” he said quietly.   
“You did well,” I replied, “that guard-captain sympathised with you.”   
“I thought he was sympathising with _you,_ pregnant and crying,” he said and patted my ‘belly’ again. Wynne chuckled.   
“All men who either are fathers, or about to become one, sympathise with one another. You’ll understand why when you are in the same position.” Alistair’s cheeks flushed a little but he didn’t make a comment on Wynne’s remark. We made our way through the Market District and continued through the city to reach the Arl of Redcliffe’s Estate.

“Move along,” Ser Perth said as we approached the gate.   
“Perth,” I said under my breath, “it’s us.” He looked a little closer and smiled appreciatively.   
“Maker’s breath, I hardly recognised you!” he said quietly and led us into the courtyard gesturing for a runner to inform Eamon and Teagan of our arrival. I chuckled.   
“Less trouble this way, our companions should start arriving soon.”   
“Any new friends since you picked up the dwarf and the golem?” Perth asked.   
“Shale and Oghren,” I replied with a nod, “no, no new friends since them.”   
“Good,” Ser Perth replied, “I know their faces so I will remain here to let them in.”   
“Thank you,” I answered and started to wipe my face clean. Ser Perth looked down at my ‘belly’.

“Looks convincing,” he observed, “if I hadn’t seen you in Redcliffe a while ago I would have believed you really _are_ heavy with child.”   
“I’ll let Leliana know,” I said with a smile.   
“The pretty Orlesian redhead?” he asked.   
“That’s the one,” I affirmed just as Teagan made his way down the steps leading to the front doors.

“Alistair, Fela, it’s good to see- …” he began and looked down at my ‘belly’, and then back up to Alistair. Who laughed at Teagan’s stunned reaction.   
“An heir of cloth and leather,” he said quietly and patted my ‘belly’ again.   
“It’s… very convincing.” Then he grinned mischievously, “we should show you to Eamon to see how he’ll react.” I thought about it for a moment, then decided that pranking him didn’t fit into my manipulation plan for him.   
“I’d rather get back into my armor first,” I replied, “I feel far too vulnerable for my comfort in civilian’s clothes.” Teagan nodded.   
“Follow me, we have rooms ready for you.”   
“Actually,” I interrupted, “we left our armor with our companions, they’ll pose as merchants. Well, two of them.”   
“We can offer you clean clothes in the meantime,” Teagan said, “or would you rather wait for your friends?” I briefly looked at Alistair and shook my head.   
“Let’s not keep Eamon waiting for too long. Clean clothes it is.” Teagan nodded and led us inside.

* * *

Cleaned up and dressed in nobleman’s clothes, we made our way to Eamon’s office where Teagan and he were waiting for us. After briefly bringing them up to date about Soldier’s Peak, Teagan handed me a letter from Daena. I tucked it away to read later.

We went on to discuss the Landsmeet and what preparations still needed to be done. In the meantime our companions started to arrive at the estate, a messenger kept us informed the entire time we were talking. Eamon was in the middle of listing the nobles that had already arrived in Denerim and how we might curry their favour when the messenger came in again, looking like he was about to be violently sick.

“Your Lordship,” the boy said shyly, “p-pardon the interruption.”   
“I trust Ser Perth wouldn’t have send you here if it wasn’t important, speak, young man,” Eamon said courteously.   
“General Loghain is at the gates, my Lord,” the boy squeaked and nearly jumped when all four of us rose from our seats with a start.   
“Thank you Anthony,” Eamon said, “run ahead and tell Ser Perth we will be right out, would you?” The boy gave a nod and took off at top speed.

“This is bad,” Alistair said.   
“He will likely try to provoke us,” Eamon said quickly, “don’t give him a reason to attack, you’ll be fine.” Alistair nodded curtly and gently squeezed my hand.

We left Eamon’s office and walked down the hallway at a brisk pace. We could already hear shouting coming from the entrance hall. I cursed under my breath and walked a little faster. I didn’t hear any metal clanging, so that was good. Neither were there any cries of pain. That meant there wasn’t any fighting, yet. I put a hand on Alistair’s arm when he moved to reach for the dagger he was carrying.

“Don’t,” I said quietly, “you’ll give him cause.” Alistair nodded and dropped his hand. We rounded the corner to see Loghain, his second, Ser Cauthrien, and Rendon Howe.

My blood ran cold. _Rendon Howe._ The fury I had carried with me for nearly a year burst into flames. I could feel the heat radiating off my skin as my movements slowed. _Kill him._ I came to a stop at the top of the stairs, staring down at the man on Loghain’s right. _Kill him._ Some part of my mind was vaguely aware of Alistair coming to stand next to me. Eamon and Teagan coming up at my other side. The rest focussed solely on my target. _Kill Redon Howe._ My hand twitched. _Kill him!_ Three of them, accompanied by six guards. We could take them. _Kill Rendon Howe!_ I broke into a predatory grin, staring at the grey-haired man with the mousy face, and the way it briefly twisted in horror. _Kill him! Kill him! KILL HIM!_

Not yet.

This was what Loghain wanted. Not yet, I couldn’t kill him yet. I could feel his fear though, I drank it in. He fixed his face quickly, but the damage had been done. I had seen his reaction to me. He hadn’t realised he had been walking into the dragon’s lair, Loghain hadn’t told him. That was good, I could use it to drive a wedge between them, force them apart. What else was there, envy? Another thing easily exploited. As I studied Howe, my rage crystallized. It sat radiating in my chest, and it felt good.

“Teyrn Mac Tir,” Eamon said in an infuriatingly polite tone, “to what do we owe the pleasure of a personal greeting?”

I found myself liking Eamon a little better. Our companions had come to investigate the commotion, and arranged themselves behind Alistair and me while Leliana and Zevran slunk into the shadows.

“How could I not personally welcome a man who deems himself important enough to call every noble in Ferelden to a Landsmeet during a civil war _and_ a Blight,” Loghain sneered, not bothering to take a polite tone.   
“These are troubling times indeed, my Lord,” I replied in the same tone as Eamon, emphasising the last word slightly. I refused to recognise him as King or to address him as such. The Lady was taking over.   
“You will address _King_ Loghain as your Grace or your Majesty,” Ser Cauthrien said sharply, “you will mind your betters.” I smiled sweetly and chuckled.   
“Practice what you preach, Ser Cauthrien.” She set her jaw and stared daggers at me, I turned my gaze to Loghain.

“It has been a long time, Loghain,” I said and graciously moved down the steps, “how is Anora doing?”   
“Your _Queen_ is currently busy cleaning up the Grey Warden’s mess,” Loghain replied. I could see him tense at my approach, that was good. I wasn’t going to do anything to him yet, but he didn’t know that.   
“The Grey Warden’s mess,” I repeated slowly, “is that what you call letting them walk into a trap and watching as they get slaughtered? A poor decision, strategically speaking, you’ve lost too many good soldiers. There are more efficient ways.”   
“I would have lost more if I had followed that fool Cailan in a child’s fantasy!” he spat.

“So you say,” I replied offhandedly, “I had a good view from atop the Tower of Ishal, perhaps it would have given you a different perspective if it had been you up there. Were you aware that it had been infested by darkspawn? Such _distasteful_ creatures they are, have you encountered any yourself?” I kept moving forward slowly, carefully studying the body language of the people in front of me.

The guards, I wasn’t worried about, Loghain, Cauthrien, and Howe, however, might become a problem if they attacked. I was wearing a dress, after all, and only had a dagger strapped to my leg. And one in my boot. And two more strapped to my hips in plain sight plus my rapiers strapped to my back. Ok, I was armed pretty well. Still though, a dress would offer no protection in a fight and limit my movements.

“You don’t look like you have been fighting darkspawn,” Cauthrien snorted.   
“Looks can deceive, Ser Cauthrien,” I replied, keeping my tone as polite as I could manage.

It was infuriating them, and that was just what I wanted. They wanted a reaction? I would throw it right back at them, Loghain detested Orlais and it’s politics, so I adopted the proper manners. Overly polite, indirect, and terribly and infuriatingly arrogant. It was a shame I didn’t have a mask to wear, because I would have done exactly that. Cauthrien had already given away her weak spot, she adored Loghain, idolised him. Mocking and insulting him set her off as easily as a mad bull is set off by red cloth. Whereas Howe detested my existence as a Cousland, simply being there would elicit a reaction from him. Though he was cunning, the gears and cogs in his head would already be working on a new plan to have me killed. I was counting on it. He was predictable that way.

“Am I supposed to believe that _you,_ a girl in a frilly dress, even knows what darkspawn look like?” Cauthrien retorted with a snort and crossed her arms in front of her chest, trying to appear like she wasn’t worried.   
“You may also believe I killed King Cailan, raised a rebellion against your liege Lord, plunged Ferelden into a Blight, and that I’m secretly a demon,” I replied with saccharine sweetness, I actually started that last one myself when I got drunk at the Spoiled Princess, “people tell the most amazing stories,” I added with a wink and turned back to Loghain. “Have you heard the one where I slay Flemeth the Shapeshifter?”

I deliberately named lies as well as truths, it would keep them guessing at what I could do, what they were dealing with. I laughed behind my hand at Loghain’s face, it was twisted into a mask of rage and disgust. Perfect.

“Enough of this,” Howe declared, “you have betrayed your King and your country, the Landsmeet will see you and your lapdog to justice.” I turned my gaze to Howe and took a quick step closer. He took one step back in a reflex. Anger flashed across his face when he realised I had meant for him to respond like that, to set him on edge.   
“One might wonder who you are addressing,” I said barely above a whisper.   
“I am addressing the spoiled daughter of a traitor that sought to sell Ferelden out to Orlais,” Howe sneered.   
“Are you though?” I rebuked, locking my stare into his and pouring all my rage and hatred into it, willing his heart to stop beating right then and there.

He froze, he even stopped breathing for a moment before exhaling deeply. I severed the connection. I had only given him a taste for now. A brief glimpse of what drove me, a promise. I was coming for him. Howe got a hold of himself and reached for his forehead, staring at me in disbelief. He didn’t understand what had just happened, he probably wasn’t even aware that I did it to him.

“You murdered my family, Howe,” I said softly, “and I will get my due.”   
“You are either very brave, or very stupid to threaten a man in front of your King,” Ser Cauthrien said menacingly. I turned to face her.   
“Figure it out,” I said dismissively and turned to walk back up the stairs.

“I have seen enough,” Loghain said as I climbed the steps, “I had hoped to reason with you Eamon, but you have shown me where you stand.”   
“You seek to put a pretender on the throne,” Howe sneered, pointing at Alistair, “a puppet, but don’t think it will be _you_ pulling the strings, _Arl Guerin.”_ I chuckled.   
“You keep believing that, we will see how this turns out.”   
“With the last Cousland bitch chained in my kennel!” he shouted. I licked my lips and smiled.   
“Careful with this one, Teyrn Loghain, you might end up in your larder, bleeding to death from a gut wound.”

Loghain turned on his heel, distancing himself from Howe, who quickly followed when the guards followed their ‘King’. I watched them go, and stared at the door after it had closed behind them.

“I need a drink,” I announced and let out a deep sigh. Eamon put a hand on my shoulder and smiled warmly.   
“My girl, your father would have been more proud of you than you can imagine.”

_Nice try Eamon._

“I would rather he still be alive,” I said quietly, no accusation in my tone. Only regret. Leliana walked over to give me a hug.   
“Come on, let’s get you that drink. You’ve earned it after that performance.”   
“Yeah, ok,” I replied and let her take my hand and guide me to the great hall. The rest followed, after that confrontation, they could all use a drink.

Alistair was quiet, something was bothering him. I was so spent that I couldn’t figure out what it was, only that now was not the time to talk. Which he had indicated by a brief shake of his head. He didn’t seem angry with me though, and that was enough for now. He sat by my side, one of his hands resting on one of mine. Most of us were quiet, listening to Leliana and Eamon evaluate Loghain’s behaviour and his responses to my taunts. I was pleased with my performance, but I felt disgusting after snaking around in their heads. I wanted nothing more than to wash it off. With brandy.

“I remember once saying you are scary,” Teagan said quietly, “I take that back. You are absolutely terrifying.”   
“She plays the game well,” Leliana replied, softening Teagan’s words.   
“It’s not something I enjoy doing, Teagan,” I replied absently.   
“How do you do it?” he asked.   
“Body language is a big part of it, I read it well,” I offered.   
“Speaks it well too, I hear,” Zevran said innocently, earning a kick to his foot from Alistair. Teagan burst out laughing.

“She certainly does with a sword! Hah!” This caused Oghren to join in the laughter.   
“And loud too!”   
“I know!” Teagan hickuped through his laughter, “I _heard!”_

Alistair went beet red and I couldn’t keep my own laughter down any longer. I sat with my forehead resting in my palm and snickered like an idiot before laughing out loud until tears ran down my cheeks. By then Teagan was clamping his stomach, Oghren was on hands and knees, and Zevran was barely still in his chair. I felt a great relief when I finally composed myself and sighed.

“Oh, Zevran, don’t ever change,” I said to my dirty-minded friend who raised his glass in my direction.

I wondered if this had been his intention, Teagan had conveniently forgotten about my aptitude for manipulation, and laughing had helped to release the tension. It was like a clear stream when you are dirty and tired. Refreshing. Like Zevran himself. My suspicions were confirmed when Zevran winked at me and Leliana gave him a respectful nod.

Those two could steer a conversation in any direction they wished, it was a powerful tool, not lightly used. Though they found creative ways to use it lightly anyway, Zevran had not only steered the conversation away from my… insight, he had done it in a hilarious manner. The mood had lightened, and conversations were struck up. I took this moment to sneak off, eager to get to the comfort of the room I shared with Alistair.

It wasn’t long before he entered, I had taken off my blades and daggers, let my hair down, and changed into one of his shirts. He crossed the room to sweep me up in his arms, catching my mouth with his as he carried me to the bed _._

_Definitely not angry at_ me _then,_ I thought to myself as I let myself get lost in the intensity of his kiss.

My panties were off before I hit the bed, and the shirt torn open a moment after. Alistair skipped foreplay altogether and plunged into me after he sprang free from his breeches. I gasped at the forcefulness of it, grabbing two fist-fulls of the covers. I moaned through his kisses as he started moving inside me, stroking my walls at an even pace. He moved his mouth down my jaw, darting the tip of his tongue along the sensitive skin before moving down my neck. I arched my back when he continued his trail down to my breasts and let out another moan when his tongue circled my nipple before gently sucking on it with his lips.

I moved my arms around his shoulders, one hand running through his hair as he did the same to my other breast, never changing his pace. His arms moved to hold me close, his face now pressed against the side of my neck as he bit down on it. Entwined in one another, we built to our climax, I matched the movement of his hips with mine with each of his thrusts. I nearly screamed as I came undone, feeling myself clamp around him as he throbbed with his own release. We slowed to a stop to catch our breath, Alistair nuzzling my neck in the process.

“Ok, I kind of wouldn’t mind if that gets me pregnant,” I panted, “I mean… fuck…” Alistair propped himself up on one elbow to lean in for a long, luxurious kiss.   
“What did I do to deserve this wonderful treatment?” I whispered against his lips.   
“I love you,” he said simply, “I wanted to make you forget about everything else for a while.”   
“It worked,” I replied and tilted my head to kiss him again.   
“Are you alright?” I asked, “you didn’t seem like yourself back there.”   
“Sorry about that,” he said and put his head on my shoulder, “I saw you approach Loghain, going down the steps like he was an honoured friend, and then you taunted him, blatantly. You were within an arm’s reach of him, and he didn’t dare touch you. You were… so in control… and at the same time in so much danger. I’ve never…” he sighed, “Fela, you know I trust you. But what you did back there had me nearly jumping out of my skin to drag you to safety.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, “I didn’t mean to… freak you out like that…”   
“You didn’t!” he paused, “well, you did, but not in the way you think. I was afraid for you, that they would try to kill you. I’m not freaked out by the way you handled yourself, that was awesome!” He kissed my cheek when I softly chuckled. “Anyway, I realised what it must have looked like to you when you left. So I tried to make up for it a bit,” he said, nipping on my ear.   
“Apology accepted,” I sighed.   
“So, you said you wouldn’t mind if you got pregnant?” he quipped. I chuckled.   
“I did.”   
“Well, one can hope,” he replied and moved to kiss me again.

* * *

We lay in the soft light of early morning. We had been talking about recent events in a lazy tangle of limbs. Spewing our thoughts about the behaviour of our visitors the day before. We were delightfully bitching about Ser Cauthrien when there was a knock on the door.

Alistair, quickly pulled some clothes on while I searched for the dress I wore the night before. I was still searching when I heard him walk to the door.   
“Alistair!” I hissed, “give me a second.” I darted out of view from the sitting room, looking for the dress I had dumped somewhere. I shrugged out of Alistair’s, now buttonless, shirt to pull the dress over my head when I heard voices. Leliana had found Marjolaine.

An hour later I was clad in armor and standing in front of a door with a sign that offered singing lessons. Leliana on my left, and Alistair on my right.

“This is the place then,” I asked, eyeing the building to look for escape routes.   
“Yes,” Leliana said darkly, “Marjolaine is here.”   
“Should we knock?” Alistair asked when nothing more came forward. I looked at Leliana, who was staring at the door intensely. Then I looked around, we were in an alley, and there were no guards in sight.

“Kick it down,” I said.

The door splintered around its lock and swung open on impact with Alistair’s foot. It startled two Qunari mercenaries, who just weren’t quite quick enough to draw their weapons. I darted inside, slashing one of the mercenaries across his throat and gutting the other. Four more burst out of an adjacent room. Leliana took down two of them with her arrows while Alistair and I went for the remaining two. Leliana strode through the bloody hall to kick open another door, revealing a middle-aged woman in a revealing dress. A corset pressed her bosom up high, accentuated by a low neckline.

“Leliana my dear,” she said as if she were greeting an old friend, “it’s so good to see you.”   
“Spare me the games Marjolaine, t’envoyer des assassins après moi,” Leliana said coldly. Marjolaine chuckled.   
“My dear, those imbéciles, you can dispatch off easily. I send them to get your attention, et voila.” She made a gesture with one hand at the room around us and looked far to smug doing it.   
“You send those men to die!? Just so I would come find you!?” Leliana said in disgust.   
“Of course dear, the risk comes with the job, after all. Those men knew what they were getting into,” Marjolaine said with a roll of her eyes, “you know how the Grand Game is played, Leliana.”

“Usually, a with a lot more grace than that,” I said flatly, drawing Marjolaine’s attention, “I think a letter would have sufficed.”   
“And who’s this?” Marjolaine sneered, “some dog-lord’s bitch to follow you around?” I ignored the statement completely.   
“What do you want to do, Leliana?” I asked gently. The bard didn’t answer, the grip on her bow tightening as Marjolaine stared at her with disdain. The corner of her mouth quirked up briefly before she moved in on Leliana with a dagger. The redhead darted back, dropping her bow and reaching for her own daggers. I leapt forward to catch Marjolaine’s wrist before she could attack again, twisting her arm by stepping under it and pulling it along like I had done with Cullen. It forced her to her knees and the angle in which I twisted her hand forced her to let go of the blade.

“Let’s try this again,” I snarled, “Leliana, what do you want to do?”

When Leliana remained quiet, Marjolaine started to chuckle.   
“You are soft, Leliana, I trained you better than this!”   
“Quiet!” I snapped and twisted Marjolaine’s arm a bit further. She groaned at the pain through her laughter.   
“You can’t do it, can you? Not unless I force you to. You still belong to me, Leliana, mon tendre.” At this, Leliana grabbed Marjolaine’s hair to pull her head back, and drew a dagger across her throat.   
“Je ne suis pas ton tendre,” she hissed as she watched the light leave the other bard’s eyes.

Leliana dropped the dagger and sunk to her knees, reciting a prayer in a whisper. She briefly closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. I lay Marjolaine down on the floor and closed her eyes, out of respect for Leliana, not Marjolaine. If not for Leliana, I would have dropped Marjolaine to the floor unceremoniously and kicked her corpse. But that would hurt Leliana’s feelings unnecessarily, and she was already taking this pretty hard. I stood next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She pressed her cheek against my fingers. Alistair looked at me helplessly, indicating that he wanted to help but didn’t know how. I smiled at him sympathetically and knelt in front of Leliana.

“We need to go now, my friend,” I said gently, “it won’t be long until someone finds this mess.”

Leliana nodded and let me help her up. I led her back in the direction of the front door, briefly stopping to wipe the blood off her armor before roughly cleaning my own. Alistair did the same, and we slipped back onto the streets. We took Leliana back to Arl Eamon’s Estate, making sure she got to her room and would get some rest. After gathering Zevran and Wynne, we left for the Gnawed Noble.

Not the worst place to get some work done, and the owner owed me a favour. Not that I was about to call it in just yet, but it’s nice to work in a place where the innkeep has your back.

Eamon had listed a few names I was interested in the night before. Arl Leonas Bryland was one of them, he had been a good friend to my father, they had fought together in the rebellion and survived the Battle of the White River. He also detested Rendon Howe with a passion, making Howe our common enemy. So he was the first I sought out, he had been speaking to Bann Alfstanna Eremon of the Waking Sea, another familiar face.

Leonas’ eyes went wide and he stood when he saw me approach.   
“Lady Cousland,” he said with clear relief in his voice, “it is good to see the rumours of your survival of Highever are true.” I smiled as he took my hands in his.   
“You should hear the other stories people are telling about me,” I replied warmly.   
“What happened to your family…” Leonas said darkly, “is it true? Were you betrayed?” My smile faded and my face turned to stone.

“Rendon Howe.”

The name alone was enough to make Leonas’ face twist into a mask of rage and revolt.   
“Why am I not surprised,” he said wryly, I chuckled grimly.   
“It’s the nature of the beast, I suppose. He needs to be put down.”   
“I agree,” Leonas replied, “I should have put him down thirty years ago.”   
“Don’t dwell on the past uncle Leo, it won’t help you with the present,” I said gently. Hearing me call him uncle Leo, as I had done when I was a little girl, stoked the fire behind his eyes. It was a slight push, just a little nudge to trigger his wish to protect.   
“You’re right…” he sighed, “but getting justice for your family won’t be easy now that Howe has secured his position as Loghain’s right hand, especially considering the things he has been saying about you.”   
“Exactly,” I replied, “but not impossible.”   
“If there is anything South Reach can do to help, say the word,” Leonas answered, “our loyalties still lie with the Couslands, I have not forgotten what your father did for me.”   
“Stand with me in the Landsmeet,” I replied, “Loghain sacrificed half of our army to murder our King. He allowed Howe to strike at my family while our forces were marching on Ostagar because his paranoia of Orlais made him believe my father was betraying Ferelden. And those things don’t even skim the top of what he did to our country. He is responsible for this blighted mess that the land is in. He needs to go.” Leonas stared into my eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath and letting it out slowly.   
“You’ll have my support,” he finally said, “I trust you know what you are doing, Fae,” he added softly and touched my arm briefly.

“Why don’t you introduce me to that young man you came in with,” Leonas said, switching to a lighter topic, “you seem quite close?” he added with a wriggle of his eyebrows. I smiled warmly and looked at Alistair, who had been standing at the bar, watching me speak to Leonas.   
“You mean he has been watching my ass most of the time,” I said with an impish grin after giving Alistair a little wave.   
“And you haven’t knocked him senseless,” Leonas said with a chuckle, “I assume there is a reason for that.” I hooked my arm into Leonas’ and led him to the bar to meet Alistair.

He was quickly sucked in by Alistair’s easy charm, most anyone had a hard time disliking Alistair, Morrigan being the exception to the rule. When I hinted that Alistair’s was Maric’s lost son, Leonas smiled broadly.

“Now I see, well done my girl,” he said and clapped me on my shoulder.   
“Changes your view on the Landsmeet, doesn’t it?” I replied sweetly.   
“It does, and many others will feel the same,” Leonas replied.   
“Great,” Alistair said sarcastically, “more people with more expectations.” I brushed my hand along his.   
“You underestimate yourself,” I said quietly.   
“You keep saying that,” Alistair replied, “I suppose I’ll just have to trust you then?”   
“Well, I’m hardly an unbiased party but I do think I might be most well-informed,” I quipped and covertly squeezed his hand.   
“Son, all sane people in a position of power question themselves from time to time,” Leonas said, “it’s how you know you still got all your marbles in one place.” He winked at Alistair and excused himself to get back to Bann Alfstanna, who was now having an animated discussion with Zevran.

“I like him,” Alistair said as he watched Arl Leonas go.   
“He is a good man,” I replied, “good to his people too.”   
“So what makes a man like him hate Rendon Howe as much as he does?” Alistair asked quietly.   
“Howe married his sister for her dowry and connections. It was a terribly abusive relationship from what I understand. He fathered three children with her and then cast her aside after he had gotten what he wanted. Used and tossed in with the garbage,” I explained, “Leonas never quite got over that after dragging Howe off the battlefield with my father and saving his life at the White River. Now he’s learned Howe has murdered the man who helped save his life and slaughtered his family in cold blood.” Alistair gave a slow nod.   
“The man must have incredible self-restraint, not marching out and killing Howe years ago.”   
“He does,” I replied, “and a good head on his shoulders too. He’ll probably start coaxing the rest of the nobility into standing with us before the day is done.”   
“Anyone else you’ll be talking to here?” Alistair asked, I looked around.   
“I would speak to Bann Sighard,” I said, nodding in the man’s direction, “but Bann Ceorlic might complicate things.”   
“How so?”   
“Bann Ceorlic’s lands border on the Mac Tir’s, he is fiercely loyal to them. And I’d rather not make a scene here,” I replied, looking for Wynne. I spotted her sitting just behind Bann Ceorlic, sipping a cup of tea. Every inch the harmless old lady. In truth, she was listening in to their conversation and winked at me when she saw me looking at her.

“What about her?” Alistair asked, nodding towards Bann Alfstanna.   
“I think Zevran has got it covered,” I said with a lopsided grin when I noticed Alfstanna had loosened the top buttons of her blouse. They were closed before. And she was engaged in an animated discussion with the elf, laughing and playing with a stray lock of hair.   
“So… back to the estate? Or would you like to join me for a drink?” Alistair asked and slipped an arm around my waist.   
“I’ll take that drink,” I replied warmly and let him lead me to a table.

We spend a pleasant afternoon in the tavern, going over the nobles, their backgrounds, alliances we knew about, and their standing in the hierarchy. Alistair learned fast, putting the pieces together and listing the people we should be careful with, and the people that might be sympathetic to our cause. When Eamon’s runner, Anthony, arrived, we knew there had to be trouble. He wouldn’t have send the boy out here if it wasn’t important.

“M’Lady, your Lordship,” Anthony bowed nervously, “the Arl has send me to inform you that he requires your presence for a most urgent matter.” Alistair nodded as I raised my eyebrows.  
“Thank you, Anthony. Would you go ahead and inform the Arl we are on our way?” Anthony nodded vigorously and took off again.   
“Well, this should be good,” I said as I moved to rise from my chair. I signalled Wynne and Zevran that I might need them, allowing them to wrap up their conversations, or eavesdropping, tactfully and without raising suspicion.

Alistair and I hurried back to the estate ahead of them, they would follow once they were ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> "t’envoyer des assassins après moi,”  
> "You send assassins after me,"
> 
> "imbéciles"  
> "Imbeciles"
> 
> "et voila"  
> "and here we are"
> 
> "mon tendre"  
> "my sweet"
> 
> "Je ne suis pas ton tendre,"  
> "I am not your sweet,"


	47. The Arl of Denerim's Estate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Fela take Leliana, Zevran, and Morrigan to break Anora out of the Arl of Denerim's estate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've played the game, you know what's coming. But I'll warn you anyway, this chapter contains some VERY graphic depictions of violence, torture and stuff. It's not going to get rape-y though, only some threats and references here and there. So... Yay?

“It’s a trap,” I said flatly.  
“The situation is not under our control now, we need to take it back!” Eamon argued.  
“That just makes it a good trap,” I retorted.  
“Don’t you see that this could be pinned on us? Howe and Loghain could spin any story they like!” Eamon said exasperatedly, throwing his hands in the air.  
“They are already doing that,” I replied calmly.  
“This could be catastrophic!” Eamon exclaimed, “nearly every noble in the country is within the city walls, if Anora gets killed and we are blamed, we’re done!”  
“They have us by the balls, Fela,” Teagan said pleadingly, “we can’t ignore this.”  
“And we won’t,” I said, “but I’m not going to walk into a trap without some kind of plan.”  
“What can we possibly do!?” Eamon shouted, “sit here and wait it out?”  
“That is what _you_ would be doing anyway, isn’t it?” I replied crisply. Eamon’s face flashed with rage.  
“How dare you!”  
“Calm down, brother,” Teagan said with raised hands in an attempt to avoid an argument.  
“You want _us_ to enter the Arl of Denerim’s Estate to rescue the damsel in distress, correct? Or did I mishear you?” I said calmly, staring up at Eamon’s icy blue eyes.  
“You did not,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Let’s go over what we know,” Alistair said, drawing the attention to him and breaking the tension.  
“Anora has been taken prisoner by Howe because she suspects Loghain killed Cailan and asked him about it,” Alistair began.  
“Which is a stupid thing to do,” I mused, “so I’m fairly certain this isn’t what Anora would do if she truly suspected her father of killing her husband.”  
“She has been confined and is not allowed to leave the estate,” Alistair moved on, ignoring my snippy comment, “so she send her handmaiden, Erlina, to ask us for help.”  
“Hoping we’ll assume she is willing to side with us against her father,” I added, “it also conveniently paints her as an innocent bystander so far, now become a victim.”  
“She fears Howe might try to convince her father to kill her,” Alistair continued, “to prevent her from opposing him in what Loghain believes is saving the country. She claims to fear her father’s hatred of Orlais has clouded his vision.”  
“We know King Cailan wanted to bring in reinforcements from Orlais,” I replied, “chances are she was aware of this and assumes we have uncovered the letters, or some other kind of information. And she probably expects us to assume this proves our theory that Loghain killed King Cailan because of it. She is making herself appear as if she is already on our side, hoping we’ll blindly trust her. She got herself captured on purpose to force our hand, she is counting on us to spring into action. So, I say let her sweat for a while. She wouldn’t have made this move if she truly believed her father is capable of killing her. And honestly, the only good thing that can be said about Loghain is that he loves his daughter, and she loves him. If Howe kills her, he’s dead, Loghain won’t stand for it.”

“We can’t count on that,” Eamon said, “we can’t count on _him._ He has done many things we never would have expected from him, proven himself capable of more violence and betrayal than any of us dreamed. We cannot be certain Loghain won’t use Anora’s death against us and take down Howe in the same move.”  
“Loghain is a straight-forward man, Eamon, as you well know. He plans ahead, and he plans well, like any tactician worth his salt would. But he is not a man for subtle politics,” I countered.  
“You assume an awful lot,” Eamon said sharply.  
“So do you, assuming this is truly a call for help, assuming Loghain is capable of killing his daughter or use her death to take out a political enemy. Fact of the matter is, we cannot know for sure,” I replied, cutting off the discussion on our enemies’ motivations and goals. Those were fairly simple, they wanted us dead.

“But,” I continued, “I agree that we need to assume control of this situation. Just don’t expect me to take off running blindly.” Eamon and Teagan both let out a sigh, while Alistair watched me with a quirked eyebrow.

“On to listing our options then,” Alistair continued, refusing to give the argument any more attention.  
“To get Anora out, we need to get people in. The tricky part is getting them back out again.”  
“You can be sure there will be armed guards everywhere, and I’d assume they know we’re coming.”  
“Leliana, Morrigan, and Zevran are best suited for sneaking about a castle,” Alistair said, “but I won’t send them to be captured or killed, even Morrigan.”  
“Perhaps we can establish an escape route?” I opted.  
“Morrigan will probably be able to turn into a bird and fly out of a window. I think Zevran is a decent climber, but I’m not sure about Leliana,” Alistair replied pensively.

“They’ll need a distraction, something to draw the guards away from the castle,” he said after a brief silence.  
“Howe has not been paying the craftsmen he hired to make repairs to the estate, maybe we could rile them?” Eamon suggested. Alistair shook his head.  
“If the reports from your spies are any good, we can be sure that will end with innocent blood on the streets.”  
“What about Shale?” Teagan said, “it could pound the front gates or something, make them think they are being attacked.”  
“There aren’t that many golems in Denerim, it will lead directly back to us,” Alistair said with another shake of his head.  
“We need to come up with something that will get the guards’ attention without putting innocent lives in danger. I won’t risk them on Anora’s behalf.”  
“Then we are once more at an impasse,” Eamon said with a sigh.

“There is another way,” I said quietly.  
“Well? Tell us,” Eamon urged.  
“You’re not going to like it,” I told Alistair, ignoring Eamon.  
“What are you suggesting?” Alistair asked patiently.  
“The whole point of this trap is to capture us, right?” I began, the three men nodded in agreement.  
“Let’s give them what they seek,” I said softly, “Rendon Howe wants me chained up in his kennel? Let him think he is getting what he wants, it’ll be that much sweeter when I kill him.” The room fell quiet as three pairs of eyes stared at me in disbelief.

“I, will, kill, every bastard that stands in my way,” I continued in the same soft, velvety tone, “I’ve fought through a castle filled with Howe’s men before, and I will gladly do it again.”  
“Fela, he could kill you,” Teagan said, “we all saw the man is afraid of you. You were just arguing that this is exactly what you want to avoid!”  
“They’ll assume that,” I replied, “but trust me when I say this, Howe wants me alive. He’s a self-indulgent sadist, and that part of him will want to humiliate me first.”  
“That doesn’t make it any better!” Teagan exclaimed, his hands thrust up in the air.

“She’s not intending to get caught at all, Teagan, that would mean leaving some poor bastard that stands in her way alive,” Alistair said with a sigh.

He rose from his chair, running a hand through his hair and moving to pour himself a glass of brandy. I watched him go through the motions, trying to read on how he was taking it. Better than expected, but that still meant he was far from happy.

“Fela, can we talk in private for a moment?” he asked politely, looking at Teagan and Eamon. The two older men rose, and left the office. Alistair stood motionless as a statue as he watched them go. Maybe this was worse than I thought…

He finally exhaled and put down his glass to cross the room and pull me up out of my chair, taking my face in his hands gently.  
“I cannot let you do this,” he said, “it’s close to suicidal, Fela.”  
“I know,” I said, “I’m sorry.”  
“Is it really that important to you to kill him?” Alistair asked, “is this worth it?”  
“It’s eating me up inside, Alistair,” I admitted, “I have all these violent images in my head of how I torture him… And I _like_ them. I cannot let this go, I need to kill him.”

He took a step back, letting his hands fall to his sides. His reaction felt like a slap in the face. This is what I had been afraid of, that he would understand how much I truly lusted for blood and be appalled by it. I didn’t dare look up at him.

“It won’t bring your family back, my love,” he said softly, “it won’t make that pain go away.”  
“I know that,” I replied, feeling a tear run down one of my cheeks, “I don’t expect it to. But I _really_ want him dead, Alistair, it’s driving me insane.”  
“Why go to these lengths? I don’t understand,” he answered.  
“It’s just… what I am, Alistair. We all have our demons, I am showing you mine,” I said and looked up at him, “show me yours.”

Alistair hesitated, internally fighting a battle he couldn’t win. He would have to knock me out and tie me up to keep me from killing Howe, and when I woke up I would try to escape and do it anyway. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew, an opportunity had risen, and I wasn’t willing to let it pass. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply. When he opened his eyes, he reached for me, pulling me close and tilting my head up for a kiss.

“I love you,” he whispered against my lips, “demons and all. I will agree to this, but only if I can be by your side. You are not doing this alone.”  
“I don’t suppose there is anything I can do to convince you to stay here?” I whispered back.  
“No,” he replied.  
“Then I agree to your terms,” I caught his lips in a kiss again, running my fingers through his hair and melting into him. I sighed when we came up for air.

“So what’s your plan?” Alistair asked, leaning his forehead against mine.  
“We kill everyone that stands in our way, turn their own trap on them and take out Howe,” I said simply.  
“And those that don’t?”  
“They can go on their merry way, so long as they understand coming back after us with more men will result in certain death,” I replied.  
“I can live with that,” he said.  
“Good.”  
“Shall we gather our murderous friends?” he said darkly.  
“Just the sneaky ones,” I replied and kissed him. He kissed me back eagerly, weaving his fingers in my hair and pulling me closer.  
“Let’s go,” he whispered, “we should probably sneak out before Eamon figures out we’re about to risk his King-to-be.”  
“Yeah, ok,” I replied and led him back to the guest quarters, avoiding running into Teagan and Eamon on the way by staying out of sight.

* * *

Alistair, Leliana, Morrigan, and I stood waiting in a dank alley. Zevran would bring Erlina here so she could help us sneak into the castle, and they were running late.

“You think Eamon figured out what we’re up to?” Alistair asked quietly.  
“Possibly…” I replied, “though Zevran can probably talk himself and Erlina out of it. That man can talk himself out of anything.”  
“Someone is coming,” Leliana warned.

I slipped into the shadows instinctively, seizing up whoever had come into the alley. Leliana and Morrigan had done the same while Alistair leaned back into a wall with his hood up, looking menacing. A middle aged man began crossing the alley, avoiding eye-contact with Alistair and keeping his gaze forward. We watched him leave quietly.

“We shouldn’t linger here much longer,” Leliana said quietly. Alistair looked at me.  
“Ten minutes?”  
“Ten minutes is good, then we find our own way in,” I replied.  
“Remind me again why we are relying on a servant, of one believed to be our enemy, no less?” Morrigan scoffed.  
“Because she can get us guard uniforms, we’ll blend in that way,” Alistair replied. Morrigan rolled her eyes.  
“You mean that’s how _you’ll_ blend in.” “  
Not all of us are sneaky swamp witches,” Alistair retorted.  
“Quit it,” I hissed, “now is not the time.”

Naturally, we meant to stay out of sight. It would be that much harder to get in if we got spotted hiding in an alley, I'd bet gold to cookies that Howe had people watching. And Alistair and Morrigan's bickering might attract attention. We didn't want that until later on. Wynne and Oghren had been sent ahead to inform a few key people of what was happening. Because, _obviously,_ Loghain would try to spin this his way. We would be getting ahead of that by spreading word of what we were up to. Which was saving the Queen, of course, after _she_ came to _us._ Best to get it out there before anybody had a chance to accuse us of anything, including Anora. Leliana was responsible for this particular strategy, we'd practically be catching Howe in the act of falsely imprisoning the current Queen. And he would attack me once I found him, there was no chance in hell he wouldn't, I would _make_ him. If he wanted to take me prisoner, there would be no better opportunity than this one. It was guaranteed to escalate. If that didn't justify gutting him, I didn't know what would. Zevran and Erlina finally slipped into the alley not much later.

“Flimsy stuff,” I said distastefully while holding up a pair of leather pauldrons.  
“Should make them easier to kill, no?” Zevran quipped. I changed into the uniform quickly before buckling on my swords and daggers and hid the pieces of armor I had taken off to replace them with the guard uniform.  
“I will show you to the servant’s entrance,” Erlina said quietly, “it’s guarded by two men, I will distract them. There have been so many new guards lately, that the servants won’t think too much of a few unfamiliar faces. I will meet you inside to take you to my Queen.” I gave a stiff nod, I didn’t trust the elven servant, no more than I did Anora. But her way of getting in seemed best for now, unless of course, there would be a contingent of guards waiting for us, but we would have to play along for now.

True to her word, Erlina distracted the guards by screaming she saw darkspawn. Giving us a chance to slip in. We found ourselves in a small hallway leading to a storage room, a wide staircase led up and into the castle. The storage room offered plenty of hiding spaces where we waited for Erlina to come find us. It took her longer than we liked, the guards had asked her a lot of questions, it would seem. It didn’t matter, she led us through the castle without incident.

“Your Grace,” Erlina said quietly, leaning into a heavy wooden door, “I have brought the Grey Warden.”  
“Ah,” came a relieved reply, “I apologise Warden, I would greet you properly, but I find myself confined at the moment.” I inspected the lock, kneeling and reaching out with a hand to touch it. The lock shimmered at my touch, revealing a magical ward.

“Well, that complicates things,” I said quietly, “Morrigan, can you do anything?” The witch reached out with one hand, running it down the shimmering barrier.  
“’Tis a most powerful barrier, it can only be dispelled by the mage who cast it,” she said.  
“We’ll have to find him then, will killing the mage work?” I asked flatly.  
“It will,” Morrigan said with a nod and a slight quirk of the corners of her mouth.  
“You’ll most likely find him by Howe’s side,” came Anora’s voice through the door, “his quarters are in the north wing.”  
“Good,” I said grimly, “saves me the trouble of seeking both of them out separately.”  
“Good luck, Warden, Maker guide you,” Anora called after us. Erlina stayed behind, as she would be safer there than with us.

We were able to move through the castle reasonably easily well. Most guards seemed more occupied with themselves, booze, harassing female servants, and gambling. I had thought that Daena had been exaggerating, but it turned out she hadn’t. We made it to Howe’s chambers without incident. He wasn’t there.

“Search the place,” I said and moved to a desk to go through Howe’s papers, looking for anything that might implicate Loghain in more crimes and prove others. As I skimmed through the papers, I came across some that bore the Grey Warden seal.  
“Alistair, look at this,” I said and held out the papers to him.  
“These are identity papers, a Grey Warden, named Riordan… I think I have heard that name before…” he said thoughtfully.  
“What about the others?” I asked and Alistair went through the pages, “they’re coded, I might be able to decipher it but it would take time.”  
“Hold on to those,” I said with a nod, checking drawers for hidden compartments and double bottoms. My efforts were rewarded with a nice gold pouch, which I tossed to Zevran for safe keeping.

“Fela,” Leliana called, “I think I found something.” She pulled at a bookcase, and it gave way, revealing a door that led down a narrow passageway. Secret doors are always worth investigating, so we crept down the passageway, and into the dungeon.

“Did that _creep_ built a passage from his bedroom… _to his dungeon!?_ ” I hissed when we stepped into a hallway with several prison cells. It was enough to make my stomach turn.  
“Hey!” came a voice from down the hall, “what are you doing down here!” It was a guard.

I guess anyone but Howe coming down through this passage was enough to give us away immediately, despite the guard uniforms. I reached for my rapiers as the guard turned to sound the alarm. In doing so, however, he got just a little too close to one of the cells. From my position, all I saw were two arms reaching out, grabbing the guard’s head, and snapping his neck before Leliana could draw her bow. I held out a hand to my companions, signalling them to wait. The guard dropped to the floor limply, the hands that had snapped his neck, were now reaching for the keys on the guard’s belt. I heard the door unlock and open before I saw the guard being dragged into the cell. After a few minutes, a man stepped out, clad in the guard’s uniform and looking in our direction.

“Thank you for your timely distraction,” he said with a polite nod.  
“Thank you for saving us the trouble of chasing after him,” I replied and gave a similar nod. The man chuckled, then stopped abruptly, cocking his head to look at Alistair.  
“Wait, Alistair, is that you?” I looked over my shoulder to see Alistair blink a few times.  
“I know you,” he said, “you were at my Joining.” I raised my eyebrows in surprise and looked back at the man at the other end at the hall.  
“My name is Riordan,” the man explained, “I am a Grey Warden from Orlais.”

_Good, that brings the count to four in the country! Andraste’s tits…_

“I suppose these are yours then,” Alistair said and produced the bundle of papers with the Grey Warden seal before walking down the hallway. I followed close on his heels. Reaching out, I could sense Riordan’s Taint. It was similar to Alistair’s, but each had a different vibration to it.

“What of the Grey Wardens in Orlais?” Alistair asked, handing Riordan the bundle of papers.  
“We were turned away at the border, when no word came, I was send to investigate what had happened,” Riordan answered, “I am… sorry, for the loss of your fellow Wardens.”  
“How did you get captured?” I asked with a frown.  
“Fool that I was, I assumed that Howe and Loghain wouldn’t know who I was when I came to Denerim,” he explained, “got me with poisoned wine.” He frowned at himself, displeased at his own capture. I nodded.

“You should be able to slip by the guards upstairs, if you go to the Arl of Redcliffe’s Estate, they will protect you if you tell them Fela and Alistair send you, tell Teagan and Eamon we snuck off without them knowing because we knew they would object to both of us going, that’ll make sure he believes you. Our friend Wynne is a healer, she’ll see to your injuries if you tell her the same thing. She’s a nice old lady from Ferelden’s Circle Tower. And don’t get into a discussion with the golem, Shale, about how squishy you are, you cannot win that fight.” Riordan chuckled and gave a slight bow.  
“I thank you sister. Will I meet you there?”  
“Before nightfall if everything goes to plan,” I replied, “you are hereby invited to dinner.”  
“M’Lady,” Riordan said with another slight bow, and left the way we came.

Riordan left to limp towards the staircase leading up to Howe’s bedroom while we ventured deeper into the dungeon.

“We’re inviting Howe’s prisoners to dinner now?” Zevran whispered, “how do you know he spoke the truth?”  
“The Taint,” Alistair said, “we can sense it in him, he’s a Grey Warden.”  
“Really?” Zevran replied, “that’s a nice trick, makes it easier to seek out allies, no?”  
“Or a fraud,” Alistair said with a nod, “he probably sensed it in us too, or he would have been more suspicious of us.”  
“So you know he is an ally, trustworthy, just like that?” Zevran continued.  
“Pretty much,” Alistair shrugged, “the Grey Wardens are an inclusive bunch, whether you are a nobleman, a criminal, or just a commoner, if you have what it takes to kill darkspawn by the dozens and are prepared to devote yourself to that, they’ll accept you. I wouldn’t exactly trust him with my coin purse, but he is an ally in stopping the Blight, and he won’t stab us in the back.”  
“Nifty,” Zevran quipped, “the Crows should have something like that. It would be foolish to trust they are your ally of course, but knowing who is a Crow and who isn’t could provide a nice advantage if you want to survive.”

We continued our way into the dungeon, killing any guard we encountered. This was the reason we had brought Leliana, Morrigan, and Zevran. They would kill without question, and they were quiet. Of the five of us, only Alistair wasn’t particularly sneaky. But he’d had the foresight to change into leather armor, which was a lot quieter and easier to move in than plate. He did fairly well, staying behind a bit so he wouldn’t surprise anyone. After clearing out a room with four guards playing cards, we stepped into a hallway with several torture chambers.

Leliana stiffened and paled at the sight of bloody instruments, torture tables caked in blood, and the bodies still on them. All of us gagged at the smell, hygiene was not on the list here. And we were unsurprised to find the first person we checked dead. I took Leliana’s hand when she shivered violently at the sight. Flayed, seared with hot iron, broken fingers, teeth pulled, elbows twisted the wrong way, smashed knees, eyes gauged out. Whoever this once was, death was a blessing. It had been long before it finally came.

I stumbled back into the hallway, squeezing my eyes shut and grinning like a maniac to keep myself from vomiting. I held Leliana’s hair back as she emptied her stomach on the ground. Alistair was having a hard time of it himself, but he kept his lunch down. Zevran and Morrigan wore their faces in impassive masks.  
“You stay here, ok?” I said to Leliana when she stopped retching, “I’m going to see if any are still alive.” She nodded and spat, trying to get the taste of vomit out of her mouth.

I checked the bodies one by one. There were too many to simply be the result of negligence. Were they being left to rot on their torture tables to send a message to prisoners? Was it a personal indulgence? Was Howe short on his cleaning staff? It was almost as if they had been put on display, arranged in odd positions that didn’t really seem to serve a purpose for the torturing. And then I found one still breathing.

“Is this supposed to be sending a message?” the young man scolded as I stepped into the room where he lay strapped to a table positioned in a nearly vertical angle. I looked at the man in confusion,  
 _“Oswyn?”_

Before he could answer, I was attacked. I barely managed to twist out of the way of an incoming sword while jumping back to avoid a mace coming from the other direction. I continued through the motion by landing on my haunches and lashing out with a vicious low kick. It send one of my attackers to the ground, leaving me free to elbow the other in the face as I came up. I drew one of my daggers with my other hand and slashed it across his stomach, turning and jabbing the dagger up into the lower jaw of the man behind me as he was getting up. Hot blood ran down my hand as I pulled the dagger out and dropped the man to the floor. I ducked to the side when another came at me. Alarmed by the commotion, my companions burst into the chamber. They took care of the remaining three that had surprised me as I rushed to release Oswyn Sighard from his confines.

“Lady Cousland!?” he exclaimed when he recognised me.  
“Yeah. What are you doing in Howe’s dungeon?” I replied, undoing the buckles around his ankles first so I could take a better look at his leg. It looked like someone had tried to remove his kneecap by banging it with a hammer.  
“A soldier told me that they were ordered to retreat before King Cailan fell,” Oswyn replied, “he disappeared.”  
“And here you are,” I added, standing up to release his right wrist, “Loghain has been working very hard to make people believe King Cailan was killed by the Grey Wardens and his own stupidity.” I helped him lower his arm and put it around my shoulder.

“L-lady Cousland-” he began but I cut him off.  
“Forget manners and etiquette, Oswyn, you won’t be able to stand on that leg,” I said sternly and held his arm when he tried to pull it back, “come on, let me help.” He relented after a weak struggle, sighing in defeat and settling some of his weight on my shoulders.  
“See, not so bad, I’m stronger than I look,” I said reassuringly.  
“You know this man, Fela?” Alistair asked.  
“This is Oswyn Sighard, son of Bann Sighard of Dragon’s Peak,” I replied as he helped me get Oswyn off the torture table.  
“Oswyn, this is Alistair,” I added, “Grey Warden, and youngest son of King Maric.” Oswyn’s eyes went wide when he realised who was helping him off a torture table.

“You- … I- your highness,” Oswyn stammered, and groaned in pain as he tried to take a step.  
“Just Alistair will do,” Alistair said to the wounded noble, “Morrigan, can you do anything?” The witch knelt to inspect the damage.  
“This is beyond my skill in the healing arts,” she said with a shake of her head.  
“A healing potion and some brandy then?” Zevran said and held out a bottle and his flask.  
“Better than nothing,” Alistair said and nodded for Zevran to help Oswyn drink the healing potion, followed by a gulp of brandy for the taste. We left Oswyn to recover a little before he left the dungeon dressed in a guard uniform. Meanwhile we would press on to find Howe and his mage. Oswyn had a hundred questions, of course, questions I would answer at a later time, when I spoke to him and his father about supporting us in the Landsmeet.

“Just how big _is_ this dungeon?” growled, looking down another hallway with cells after taking out eight more guards.  
“Hello?” I heard a voice calling, “is anyone there?” It sounded familiar.  
“Oh, no,” I groaned, and scowled.  
“I can hear you!” the voice continued demanding and slightly petulant, “I demand to be released!” My companions all looked at me with raised eyebrows. I let out another frustrated groan.

“Vaughan Kendells, is that you?” I called and started moving forward.  
“Who is that!? I demand to know-”  
“Yeah, yeah,” I interrupted, “ease up already.” When I walked into his field of vision and saw him, I almost felt sorry for him. He had been severely beaten, several times judging from the vibrant palette of his bruises.  
 _“Cousland!”_ he exclaimed, “you have to get me out, Rendon Howe is a traitor!”  
“I know,” I said calmly, “how’d you end up in here?” His face contorted in rage.  
“That traitorous bastard threw me in here after the riots in the Alienage. ‘One more victim of the rioting elves,’ he said! And Loghain went along with it!” he ranted, “he let that _rat_ throw me in here!”  
“So how would you feel about kicking Loghain off his throne and killing Howe in the progress?” I suggested offhandedly.  
“It would serve him right!” Vaughan screeched, “now let me out!”  
“A Landsmeet has been called,” I said as I started searching the guards for the key to his cell, “I could use your support.”  
“You’ll have it,” Vaughan replied, “just get me out of here!”

I watched Vaughan skulk off before checking the other cells. Only one other cell was occupied, by a sickly looking man who sat rocking back and forth in a corner of the cell. He looked terrible, beaten and starved.

“Hey,” I said gently, “what’s your name?” The man’s eyes shot up at me as he began babbling, he was terribly afraid.  
“Andraste have mercy on me,” he whispered, “is… that you? Little sister? No-” he shook his head violently, “I don’t know you, are you… What do you want?”  
“Looks like he is suffering from lyrium withdrawal,” Alistair said, “poor sod.”  
“What is your name?” I asked gently and stepped a little closer to the bars of his cell. He scurried back in fright at my movement.  
“My name…” he said hoarsely, “Alfstanna? I don’t recognise you… _How can I_ _not recognise you!?”_ He pulled his hair and started rocking again on the ground.  
“Alfstanna is your little sister?” I asked, putting it together. This was Irminric Eremon, brother to Bann Alfstanna Eremon, and a Templar. _The_ Templar, the one the Chantry was looking for since he disappeared. I opened his cell with the key I had looted off the corpse of one of the guards.

“I am Fela Cousland,” I said, opening the door, “do you remember me?” Irminric gazed up again with bloodshot eyes and shook his head violently.  
“Your sister is looking for you, my friend,” Zevran said softly, “she is very worried.”  
“Sister… she is… _you_ are _not_ my sister,” he croaked, his eyes flittering from me to Zevran and back.  
“Correct,” I said, squatting in front of the man trying to press himself into the wall to hide, “your sister is in the Gnawed Noble,” I continued, “do you know that place?” The Templar didn’t respond.  
“You need to tell her you are alive, Irminric, she worries,” I urged. Some semblance of recognition flashed across his face at the mention of his name.  
“I- I can’t. I have failed my duty,” he stammered with wide eyes.  
“Why not? What duty?” Zevran asked.

The poor man began ranting about apprehending a blood mage near Redcliffe. He wasn’t very coherent but I got the gist of it. The mage he had apprehended had probably been Jowan, the blood mage who poisoned Eamon. Loghain couldn’t let the Templar who had caught the blood mage he used as an assassin go free, so Irminric ended up in Howe’s dungeon. He was too afraid to leave his cell, and fought when we tried to help him out. We ended up leaving him there, but he gave us his ring to give to his sister. He would only leave his cell if she was with him for some reason. Probably some lyrium-withdrawal-related reason. It was no use arguing with the man, so we promised him we would give his ring to his sister, a job Zevran volunteered for, and we left.

We made our way further through the dungeon, killing more guards every step of the way. The more we saw of what had been done to the prisoners, the easier it got to kill them without a second thought. None threw down their weapons, so none made it out. We found another prisoner in what appeared to be a solitary cell. The walls had no windows, and the door was solid oak. I wouldn’t have found him if I hadn’t been making a point out of checking every cell.

A young man with sky blue eyes, dark red hair, and slender pointed ears moved to shield himself from the light as I opened the door.  
“I’m not with Howe,” I said and showed him my open palms, “my name is Fela Cousland, I’m a Grey Warden.” The young man frowned from beneath his upraised arm.  
“Is this some sort of trick?” he asked suspiciously.  
“What would be the point?” I asked in reply. He didn’t answer.  
“Might I ask for your name?” I said.  
“Soris,” the elf answered.  
“Any idea why Howe put you in here?” I asked.

“I was arrested and imprisoned by Vaughan Kendells, who is Howe?”  
“The current Arl of Denerim,” I replied. He looked surprised.   
“What happened to Urien and Vaughan Kendells?”  
“Urien died at Ostagar,” I replied, and then smiled a little, “Vaughan was actually here in his own dungeon.” The elf let out a bitter laugh.  
“Oh, that’s _good._ There is a lesson in there somewhere,” he grinned, “where is he now?”  
“Probably screaming at Loghain to have Howe brought to justice,” I said with a shrug.  
 _“You let him out!?”_ Soris snapped.  
“Unfortunately,” I replied.  
“Why would you _do_ that!?” Soris exclaimed and stared at me in disbelief.  
“I don’t like it either, long story short, I need him. For now,” I replied, “even sadistic pigs can have their uses when they happen to be the son of a well-respected Arl.” Soris shook his head.  
“I’ve been in here for too long, Grey Warden… It matters not. Will you allow me to leave?”  
“Depends, what did you do to end up here?” I asked. Soris’ face grew hard.  
“I tried to save my wife from being taken by Vaughan Kendells during our wedding, I got him good with my dagger before some of his men overpowered me.”  
“Kill any of his men?”  
“Five of them,” Soris said defiantly.  
“Good job,” I replied and offered him my hand to help him up.

“You… approve of that?” he asked incredulously before he took my hand.  
“I approve of your skill, and of sticking Vaughan with your dagger. I am hardly one to judge you for killing his guards,” I said as he stepped out into the hallway.  
“Ah,” Soris said when his eyes adjusted to the light and he could see the bodies strewn about. “I… thank you, Warden…” he said, “this is… the last thing I expected to happen when I got thrown in there,” he let out a relieved chuckle, “I am going back to my family now. Be well.” He slipped into the shadows and left the way we came.

“And you just keep making friends,” Alistair said with an impish grin, “are all of these strategic moves?”  
“No,” I replied, “happy coincidences and a little mercy. Excepting Vaughan Kendells,” I added darkly. Alistair squeezed my hand and smiled his approval before we moved on to the next area.

* * *

“Ah, Bryce Cousland’s little spitfire,” Howe said smugly when we stepped into another torture chamber, lined with more prison cells.

We found him.

Time seemed to slow down around me, my vision narrowed and focussed on Howe. My body went into a state of high-alert, like a coiled wire, ready to spring.  
“I wouldn’t have thought that Eamon would agree to letting you storm my castle and kill my men, does he have so little faith in his position in the Landsmeet?” Howe sneered.  
“Alistair, you take care of the mage,” Leliana whispered, “we’ll take the guards.” When no answer came from me, Howe took a step forward.  
“Oh,” he said in mock sympathy, “this is about your family, isn’t it? Have you come to take your revenge?” His men laughed at his jeer, he waited for them to quiet down before continuing.   
“I took your whore mother and made her kiss my feet before I slit her traitor throat,” he sneered.  
“Save it,” I replied in a cold tone, unfamiliar to even my own ears, “you're done, it’s just you and me now.” Howe narrowed his eyes at me.  
“There it is,” he said in a bitter tone of voice, “that look… I will have to cut it off your face once you are in my kennel.”

Howe drew his sword and a dagger, signalling his men to attack while he slipped into the shadows. I leapt forward to meet the first of his guards with my rapiers, Howe would be trying to flank me, so I created the opportunity for him. I blocked the first swipe of a sword, redirecting it and slamming my shoulder into the wielder’s chest continuing the motion into a sideways roll. As predicted, Howe emerged from the shadows and swiped at my legs, missing me by inches. I rolled to my feet to engage him, meeting his dagger with one of my rapiers as I came up. I jerked my arm down to force the dagger from his hand with my blade, cutting into his flesh. He cried out, more in fury than in pain, and thrust his sword at my chest. I sidestepped it, attempting to slice at his side but missing when he moved back in a response to my evasion. Howe jumped, slashing his sword down at me. I caught it with both my rapiers and kicked him in his stomach.

He stumbled back but quickly regained his footing, blocking one of my attacks and ducking under the other. He stepped in close and landed a punch with his wounded hand to the side of my face. He groaned at the impact as well as I did, and I slammed my forehead into his nose in response, leaving his nose a bloodied mess, the blood colouring his teeth red when he snarled at me.

Howe stumbled back as I shook off the slight disorientation from the first blow to my head. I leapt forward with a reverse kick, followed by two swipes of my rapiers. Howe let himself be thrown by my kick, evading the sharp blades by taking a heavy blow to his side. He swiped at my ankles as he went down. I simply jumped over the blade, bending my knees to slam them into Howe’s chest when I dropped down before jumping back to my feet. I felt his ribs crack under my knees upon impact followed by the effort of sucking in a desperate breath after the air had been pushed from his lungs. He rolled out of the way of my blades as I brought them down on him. I moved back to evade a kick, meant to kick my legs from under me. It gave him time to stagger to his feet, gasping for air.

His eyes were smouldering with rage and he lashed out with his sword. It was an uncontrolled move, desperate, meant to keep me away. I could feel my face contort into a smile as I knocked the blade aside with one rapier.  
“Damn you!” he snapped and moved further back to evade my other rapier. I let him back himself into a wall before moving in, I thrust one of my rapiers into his leg while I used the other to knock his sword from his hand. He screamed, reaching for his leg with both hands as he rolled to the side in an attempt to flee. He didn’t get very far, unable to stand properly on his wounded leg, he went for his sword which had landed a few feet away. As soon as he turned his back to me, I lashed him across the shoulder blades, _hard,_ making him turn back to face me as I dragged my other rapier along his abdomen where his armor had shifted and left a small unguarded area.

His eyes widened in shock, his hands clenched to his abdomen and falling to his knees. I had sliced through the abdominal wall, effectively gutting him, as he had done to my father. He gasped as he looked down, and fell down on his back.

Only now did I look around to see if his men were taken care off. My companions had made short work of them while I had been busy with Howe, none of them interfering. They knew better.  
“Are you guys ok?” I asked, kicking Howe when he groaned. Morrigan gave a stiff nod, as did Leliana and Zevran. Alistair was watching me intently, not responding to my question. I held his gaze for a few seconds, trying to figure out if he was alright. When he finally gave a nod, I looked back to Howe.

“ _Fuck you!_ ” he spat, “I deserved more!” I kicked him again, hitting his broken ribs.  
“We’re not done yet,” I replied as I grabbed the back of his collar to drag him to a wall and into a sitting position. He wailed and gasped under my treatment, holding on to his stomach frantically to keep his guts from sliding out. It filled me with grim satisfaction to see him reduced to that state. I squatted to be at eye level with him, to drink in his terror. He wouldn’t survive this, and he knew it. It enraged him, like a child throwing a tantrum at not getting their way.

I sighed and smiled.

“How are you feeling?” I asked ominously. Howe gasped, taking shallow breaths, but didn’t answer. I had sheathed my rapiers, and pulled a dagger from my belt.  
“Why don’t we take a look at the damage?” I said with saccharine sweetness and grabbed his chin with my free hand to force him to look at me. With the dagger, I tapped one of his hands.  
“I can’t see if you cover it like that.” I kept my tone low and calm as I stared into Howe’s beady eyes.  
“Maker curse you!” he managed.  
“Fine,” I replied and jabbed one of his hands with the dagger to make him move his hand. He hissed and groaned, but eventually moved it.

“Ah,” I said, inspecting my work, “best case scenario, you die in the next couple of minutes. Worst, you get to look forward to a few agonising weeks.” Howe’s breathing got more irregular as I spoke.  
“Don’t believe me?” I asked when he refused to respond, “here, look,” I said and used the point of my dagger to pull back his flesh, exposing what lay underneath. He shrieked in pain and tried to move his hand back. I knocked it aside and grabbed the hair on the back of his head, forcing his head forward to make him look. He struggled weakly and whimpered.

“ _Look_ ,” I repeated harshly, “see that?” I moved the point of my dagger to the exposed organs.  
“That’s your small intestine.” Howe whimpered again, and groaned.  
“It’s actually about twenty feet long,” I continued, _“want to know how I know that?”_ I added in a vicious whisper. Howe’s bloodied face contorted into a sick grin.  
“Did your _daddy_ show you?”  
“No, actually, he managed to keep his guts inside,” I replied and hooked my finger around the long, thin organ, and pulled. Howe screamed in terror and in pain as I pulled his small intestine partly out of his abdomen.

“He wouldn’t approve of this,” I said and let the organ slide from my finger, it dropped onto Howe with a wet splat, “my mother, however, might see some humour in it,” I finished and wiped my finger on his armor.  
“Y-you’re pathetic,” Howe sputtered, “avenging mommy and daddy, _still_ playing the man.”  
“If you say so,” I replied flippantly, “then I suppose I must leave you here to die a slow death.” I stood and looked down on Howe.  
 _“Coward!”_ he spat, blood dripping down his chin, “get back here and finish the job!” I shrugged.  
“Won’t make a difference, you’re dead anyway.” I started walking back towards my companions when Howe called after me.

“ _Fucking b_ _itch!_ You’ll pay for this! You haven’t won, you _won’t_ win! Loghain won’t stand for this!”  
“I don’t think you matter that much to him, Howe, you don’t matter to anyone,” I said coldly.  
"You're not getting away with this!" Howe gasped, _"I'll see you dead!"  
_ "Unlikely," I said with a shrug and turned around.  
"Better make sure," he snarled back. He was taking short gasping breaths now.  
"I could pull that small intestine out a little further I suppose," I said with a small smile and slowly started walking back to him. Despite being pale as a sheet, he paled a bit further at my suggestion.

"You can convince me to kill you," I said menacingly, "but it won't be on your terms." Howe stared up at me defiantly.  
"Fuck you," he sneered, I sighed, chuckled, and shook my head.   
"You are afraid, aren't you," I said, mostly to myself, "afraid to suffer."

I smiled a broad smile and squatted next to him once more, staring into his eyes.  
"After walking through your dungeon, seeing the things you've been doing, the suffering _you_ inflicted, it's more than a little amusing to see you reduced to this. You want a dagger to the heart? a sliced aorta? maybe a nice beheading? So long as it's quick, right?" 

Howe didn't answer me. 

"Oh, proud to the very end," I said dramatically, mocking his efforts, "how _commendable,_ does that make you feel a little better?" Howe spat at me, unsuccessfully.   
"That's fine, it doesn't change anything. I already killed you, Howe. And your attempts at getting me to give you a quick end are just _painfully_ transparant, you might as well just ask me."  
"F- finish it," he wheezed, quietly, barely audible.  
"That sounded like a command, not a question," I replied patiently.   
"Finish it... please..." he snarled.   
"Hmm, not quite good enough for me," I mused, "but I suppose it might be enough for this."

I turned to Leliana an motioned for her to put an arrow in his throat. She complied without hesitation. 

While Leliana was ruthless and killed without second thought, she did not necessarily approve of torturing Howe. I watched him die choking on his own blood.

It was the most beautiful sound I had heard in a long time.

* * *

I leaned against a wall while Zevran searched Howe’s body, pocketing anything useful or valuable. Morrigan checked on the mage, and Leliana and Alistair hovered close by, making sure I was alright.

In truth I felt pretty fucking _great._

Knowing that Howe was dead was like knowing there was no boogieman in the closet. I felt calm, the storm had cleared. 

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, when Zevran and Morrigan finished looting the bodies and led the way out of the dungeon the way we came. Irminric was still in his cell and still couldn’t be persuaded to come out. The rest of the people we freed seemed to have found their way, as we didn’t see them on our way out of the dungeon. We made it back without incident, even managed to reach Anora’s room quickly and without trouble. But the hard part was only starting.

Anora stepped out of the room clad in metal plate armor. It was awkward on her, the kind of awkwardness you only see on someone who has never worn armor for more than ten minutes at a time. She bore no weapons, and moved stiffly.

“You have my gratitude, Warden,” she said politely. I raised an eyebrow at her.  
“Where did you get the armor?”  
“On the armor stand in the room I was confined to,” she replied crisply, “shall we go? I believe I’ve had enough of the Arl’s hospitality.”

_Bitch._

She looked Alistair over briefly.  
“Lead on Ser knight,” she said and gestured for him to lead us down the hallway.  
“You might want to put that visor down,” I said, “five guards walking out of the castle with the Queen in full plate might stand out.” I heard Zevran snicker and Morrigan murmur something about shutting her up. Leliana just sighed. If Anora was aware I was messing with her, she didn’t show it. She slammed down the visor on the helmet and kept walking after Alistair. I wondered if she looked him over because she recognised him, or because she thought he was attractive. For all I knew, it could be both. It didn’t matter at the time, my attention needed to be elsewhere.

Before we could make it to the hall that would lead us to the servant’s entrance we had used, we ran into Ser Cauthrien. And about two dozen fully armed guards.

_Shit._

“Hold it!” she bellowed, “drop your weapons!”  
“You’re crazy, right?” I sneered and gestured for my companions to ignore the order.  
“Ser Cauthrien!” Anora squeaked and removed the visor of her helmet, “I demand you arrest this Warden, and her accomplices for attempted kidnapping!”

“Of course you do,” I snarled and kicked her forward into the arms of two startled guards. It wouldn’t hurt her, she was wearing the armor after all. And she deserved a good kick for what she had just pulled, even if I was expecting it. I leapt forward to attack as the guards caught their Queen and the three of them crashed to the ground.

 _“Go!”_ I shouted to my companions before engaging.

If I’d had time to look at them, I would have seen them hesitate before reluctantly obeying the order. All except Alistair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That part about grinning like a maniac to keep from vomiting, actually works. I got it from watching Dirty Jobs, it was about forensics. Specifically the decay of bodies and the effects of the different circumstances they might be dumped in. The smell made the host gag, and the team suggested grinning like a maniac, they gave the same advise to anyone new to the smell of a rotting corpse. Which worked for him. And since then, whenever I get nauseated and feel like I'm going to vomit for whatever reason, I start grinning like an idiot. It has never failed me. Something to do with activating certain parts of the brain, anyway, it's a pretty sweet hack.


	48. 'Well, this is a first.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela and Alistair may have messed up a little... Just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mildly trigger-y, nothing too graphic. There will be violence, implied sexual asault, and murder. So pretty much the same as usual. Enjoy.

My head was pounding, and I was cold. Uncomfortable, solid stone beneath me. I had been stripped of my armor and my clothes, I could feel hay pricking my skin. My head swam as I was trying to comprehend what was going on, until finally, I decided to just open my eyes. Iron bars… Ah, a prison.

“Well, this is a first,” I croaked and coughed, my ribs stung. Bruised. Possibly broken. Again.  
“Oh, thank the Maker,” came Alistair’s voice before I felt his touch on my bare shoulders to help me sit up a bit.  
“Are you alright?” I asked. He chuckled.  
“I should be asking you that, it took five men to hold you down and knock you out.”  
“Five?” I asked and chuckled, “well that strokes my ego, if nothing else.”  
“You wake up in a prison, beat up and nearly naked, and you gloat over the number of people it took to take you down?” Alistair asked with a half-grin. One half of his face was severely bruised, it probably hurt him to smile.  
“Do you not?” I replied with a wink, sitting further up and inspecting Alistair’s injuries.

He’d been beaten, severely too, and not while he had his armor on.

“What did they do to you?” I asked, running a hand along his shoulder gently.  
“Roughed me up a bit,” he said softly, “nothing to worry about.”  
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” I whispered, and took one of his hands. Judging by the state of his knuckles, he had gotten more than a few punches in himself. He chuckled.  
“ _Y_ _ou_ didn’t rough me up, guards did that.” I softly kissed his cheek on the lesser bruised side of his face.  
“Still… I could have tried harder to make you stay at Redcliffe Estate, or to run with the others…” I replied. Alistair shrugged.  
“Saved both of us some time, I wouldn’t have let you go alone or leave you behind anyway.”  
“I should have laced your wine with laudanum at the castle,” I replied playfully.  
“Probably, but I would be _very_ upset if you had done that,” he answered in the same playful tone. 

“So,” I looked around a little more thoroughly, “where are we?”  
“Fort Drakon is my best guess,” Alistair replied, “I’m not sure, I got knocked out at some point.”  
“Doesn’t look like Howe’s dungeon, that’s for sure,” I replied, “they keep their tools clean here.” I pointed at the array of knives, hammers, tongs, and other various devices arranged on a table next to a torture table.  
“I was hoping those were just for show,” Alistair said with a frown.  
“I doubt it,” I replied and moved to inspect the lock on the door.

“If they’re smart, they’ll starve us first,” I said lightly, “if not,” I shrugged, “we’ll have to improvise.”  
“You’re not worried?” he asked.  
“Oh, I’m worried,” I answered, “but I don’t plan on waiting to find out what they have planned for us.” I undid my hair to be able to run my fingers through it and find the set of lockpicks I had stowed away in my locks. Alistair raised his eyebrows appreciatively.  
“Warn me if you hear anything,” I said and got to work.

It took some time, and a lot of cursing, but I eventually managed to pry the lock open. We quietly stepped out of the cell and moved to the opposite wall, both of us snatching some of the tools meant for torture to use as weapons if we needed to. We would probably need to.

“What now?” Alistair asked quietly.  
“We find some clothes,” I replied, peeking into the hallway beyond the torture chamber. We stayed close to the walls, moving silently in the shadows.

Without his bulky plate armor, he moved much quicker and quieter, graceful, even. I gave myself a mental head slap for letting myself get distracted by him while attempting to escape from one of the most notorious prisons in Thedas. I could admire the way he moved when we got out of there.

We hid in an alcove, pressed against the wall to let two guards, dragging another prisoner, pass. I held up a hand, counted to five, and moved further down the hall. Alistair followed close behind. We kept going down the narrow hallway until we reached a larger hall that gave access to other parts of the dungeon, including the armoury. Unfortunately, it was guarded by two men.

I held up two fingers for Alistair, indicating I could see two guards and pointed in the direction they were facing, giving him an idea of what to expect. I peered into the hall again, we couldn’t stay where we were, we’d get caught, we needed a place to hide. We snuck behind a stack of crates, giving us a moment to come up with a plan.

“Do we take them out, or do we distract them?” Alistair whispered.  
“Whichever is easier,” I replied, “any ideas?” He looked around, and then peered into the crates we were using for cover.  
“We lure them over there, take them out, stash their bodies behind the crates,” he said and pointed at the wall opposite from us.  
“How do you plan on doing that?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, he grinned.  
“Those torches are lit with mage light,” he whispered.

I watched as he closed his eyes, concentrating to impose his will and dispel the magic that kept the torches burning. They flickered and died as he blew out a soft breath. I smiled in appreciation of his showmanship as I peered over the crates. He had managed to dispel only the torches on the wall he wanted the guards to investigate, leaving the others burning. I marvelled at his precision, usually, there was some kind of area of effect. But Alistair had focussed on four specific torches, leaving the others untouched. I had never heard of a Templar with that kind of control, and Alistair just did it while hurt, hungry, and exhausted.

As the guards moved to investigate, Alistair and I quietly emerged from behind the crates to sneak closer. I motioned for Alistair to take the right while I took the left. I tapped my target on his shoulder, and grabbed his forehead as he turned to slam his head into the wall, fracturing the guard’s skull. Next to me, I heard the sickening crunch of a neck being snapped.

We hid the bodies, quickly, moving into the armoury and shutting the door behind us. Alistair kept his ear to the door while I searched for clothes and armor that would fit us. I tossed Alistair a pair of breeches and a pair of boots before quickly putting some on myself. I found two coats next, and slipped on my own as I walked over to hand Alistair his. He just pulled the coat over his shoulders when we heard someone call.

“What the- Guards!” I heard an angry voice coming from outside.

 _Shit_.

I dropped to my knees, grabbing Alistair’s hips and turning him towards me just as the door was flung open. Standing in the doorway, you wouldn’t see our faces. You would see a man standing with his back to the door, and a woman on her knees in front of him.

“You two!” came an angry voice, then it paused, “save it for when you’re off duty! Get yourselves straightened out and back to your posts!” Alistair turned the lesser bruised side of his face towards the man standing in the doorway.  
“Yes, sir!” he said with the deepest blush I had ever seen on him.  
“It won’t happen again, sir, please don’t report us,” I whimpered as I stood, holding my coat closed tight and making big cow eyes at the man. He gave me a quick lookover and a small smile played around his lips.  
“You!” he barked at Alistair, “get out. Your colleague and I need to discuss proper workplace behaviour.” Alistair hesitated, looking at me as if to ask if he should clobber the man. I swallowed and gave him a stiff nod.

For show, I needed to make it look believable.

Alistair reluctantly made his way to the door, looking back over his shoulder as he opened it.  
“If you don’t want me to report you,” the man said, rubbing himself through his breeches, “I think we can come to some kind of arrangement.”

Alistair eyes went dark with rage, he shut the door without stepping outside. With three quick steps, he was behind the other man and snapped his neck like he did with the first.

“My hero,” I said with a smile, “saved me the trouble.” He chuckled as we dragged the man to the back of the room together to hide the body.  
“For once I get to kill a guy who looks at you the wrong way and get away with it.”  
“The circumstances allow it,” I replied with a lopsided grin. We strapped on weapons and armor, and left the armoury quietly.

“That was quick thinking,” Alistair said in a quiet, but casual tone.  
“Thank you,” I said politely, “though I must compliment you on your technique. You must have had practice to perfect it?”  
“A friend from Antiva taught me,” Alistair said with a secretive smile.  
“My, my, that makes me wonder about the company you keep,” I answered.  
“I have… interesting friends,” he replied and managed to look only a little smug. We continued our friendly conversation as we made our way through Fort Drakon, looking for the exit.

It was easier said than done, the place was a maze. And neither of us had any recollection of being brought in. It made me nervous, sooner or later, someone would notice our cell was empty. I didn’t want to be there when it happened. We were lucky to stumble on our own gear, and that gave Alistair an idea.

“We can pretend we are being sent to deliver our things to Ser Cauthrien so she can look through them,” he said and started to stuff everything into a pack.  
“And if we’re rookies, we can probably get away with getting ‘lost’ during our delivery. Should anyone ask,” I added.  
“Let’s just hope we don’t run into her,” Alistair said and shouldered the pack that held our belongings.  
“Indeed,” I replied, “let’s go find someone stupid enough to have no suspicions when we ask for directions, we’ve lingered for too long.” Alistair nodded and we continued our way through the fort.

We actually found the exit at one point, but soon turned back when we discovered we needed a password. I was ready to just climb out of a window at that point. Sadly, Fort Drakon had very few of those and they were too high off the ground for us to climb out of safely. It was also surrounded by the most disgusting moat I had ever smelled. Pikes had been raised in the water and bodies had been flung onto them, the smell of rot was palpable near any window, even though they were high up.

Alistair led me back to where he had heard two guards complaining about how hard it was to remember the passwords when we walked by. One of them had actually made a list, which I nicked from him as Alistair distracted them with pleasant conversation. Which mostly meant he kept them talking about how hard their job was, as that was the most effective. They also mentioned there would be an inspection. Apparently we were expected to wear regulation swords, and the swords we took from the armoury weren’t the right ones.

It took some coaxing, but eventually we managed to figure out a way to get them. Our ‘colleagues’ still needed to get theirs as well. It didn’t take much to goad them into trying to ask us to get them for them. Which justified our questions on how to do that. After getting what we needed, we finally made it past the checkpoint and to the inspection by a cranky looking lieutenant.

I secretly looked around as the lieutenant was shouting at the recruits, how we were maggots and we needed to respect our betters. That, no, we weren’t real guards yet, and yes, he expected us to prove our worth. I stopped listening when my eye fell on Morrigan and Zevran, speaking to the men guarding the gate that led back to the streets of Denerim. I caught Morrigan’s eye, she looked away as if focussing her attention back on her companion when he made a suggestive gesture towards her. But she had seen me, and recognised me. The witch was just too clever to show it.

“You there!” the lieutenant suddenly yelled at me, “what is the _one_ thing a soldier cannot do without?”  
“Discipline, sir!” I responded automatically, barely managing to conceal a smirk when I saw Alistair look at me sideways.  
“Discipline!” the lieutenant shouted in affirmation, “you are correct recruit. What’s your name?”  
“Reed, sir!” I replied, straightening my back a little more.  
“Private Reed,” the lieutenant said, “I expect you to go out there today, and prove your worth.”  
“Yes, sir!” I replied, this was starting to feel very silly.  
“Alright! Get your arses out there, I expect you lot to be worthy of the job. Now go prove it to me!” the lieutenant finished and made a dismissing gesture.

I let out a sigh of relief, keeping my eyes forward as we passed Zevran and Morrigan. I could feel Alistair relax next to me as well, we had made it out. We actually broke out of _Fort fucking Drakon!_ We walked the rest of the way to the Estate, Morrigan and Zevran would follow a minute behind, making sure the four of us weren’t seen together until we got to the front door of Eamon’s Estate.

“Fuck…” I said, bending over and dragging out the single-syllable word.  
“Yeah,” Alistair sighed and leaned against the wall, facing up with his eyes closed and muttering a small prayer to the Maker. Morrigan scoffed.  
“And there _we_ were attempting a heroic rescue. You’re welcome, by the way.” Zevran just took both Alistair and me in a big hug.  
“It’s good to see you safe, my friends.” “  
Ahw,” I replied softy, “it’s good to see you too, Zev.”

“Where is Leliana, is she ok?” Alistair asked.  
“She’s fine,” Morrigan said, “and magnificently angry.”  
“At… who? Exactly?” Alistair asked slowly.  
“That little _puta_ , Anora,” Zevran said, “she was questioning the little snake when we left the way only she can. I’m sure many answers await.”  
“I’d rather see Wynne first,” I replied and started to peel off the armor we had stolen.

As if she had been waiting for her cue, she rushed down the steps of the stairwell leading to the guest-wing.

“What were you thinking!?” she snapped and started to examine our injuries.  
“I was ‘thinking’ that we’d only meet Howe and his men,” I replied obstinately.  
“Then we ran into Ser Cauthrien and two dozen of _her_ men,” Alistair added, “taking them down while also keeping Anora secure didn’t seem like much of an option.”  
“So you let yourselves get arrested!?” Wynne berated, “you do realise that without the two of you, everything would fall apart!? You are the only Grey Wardens _in Ferelden!_ ”

“I tried to make him stay, but he wouldn’t listen,” I said innocently, wearing a big smirk on my bruised and slightly swollen face.  
_“Hey!”_ Alistair protested.  
“That’s enough, from the both of you,” Wynne said sternly, “tell me what happened so I can get a better idea of what I’m dealing with.”

Roughly two hours later, we had been patched up, had explained what had happened to everyone and their dog, also _my_ dog, and were ready for a week-long nap.

No such luck.

Eamon insisted I go speak to Anora, and he made a few good points about letting her see me in my current state, I still had a magnificent black eye and a bruise on my jaw that spread to my cheekbone. We weren’t counting on her to feel guilty, but it might make her think that I was exhausted enough to be easily manipulated. That meant she might get careless. While I went to see Anora, Alistair sat through another lecture about responsible behaviour for a King.

I wasn’t sure which of us was luckier than the other.

I walked into the room that had been assigned to Anora without knocking, and sat down in a chair without a word. She had risen in response to my rude entry, mouth half open to say something, but not quite finding the words. I stared up at her expectantly as her face twisted from angry, to curious, to slightly amused.

“Lady Cous-”  
“Fuck you.” I interrupted her without averting my gaze from hers. Anora’s sky blue eyes widened at my crude response before narrowing into a calculating stare. She sighed and lowered her eyes after a brief moment of glaring at each other.  
“I owe you an apology,” she said feigning humility, poorly.  
“Damn right you do,” I snarled, “I don’t suppose you have ever been beaten to a pulp, stripped naked, and thrown in a dungeon for trying to save someone. Actually, you don’t seem the type to save anyone’s hide but your own.”  
“I panicked, alright!” she said exasperatedly, “I couldn’t think of any other way to keep my father from suspecting I turned against him!”  
“It’s your ass on the throne, isn’t it!? How about ‘stand down, Ser Cauthrien,’ that would have been a _good_ _fucking_ _start!_ Seeking refuge here though, that was a dumb move if it were true,” I rebuked. “Oh, Howe is dead by the way, spilled his guts. You’re welcome,” I added venomously, “you should have gotten rid of him sooner.”

Anora’s eyes narrowed again at my mention of Howe ‘spilling his guts,’ to her, that could mean anything. To me, it meant just that, he spilled his guts, after I had pulled them from him.

“So, what did you hope to accomplice by asking to speak to me?” I said coldly, moving the conversation to more constructive topics.  
“To work with you,” she replied, “my father… he, he’s not himself. I don’t think his actions are for the good of our country anymore, I believe…” she sighed, “I believe he has lost his way.”  
“Why do you think that now?” I asked sharply, “what happened to make you change your mind?”  
“I…” she stammered, “he…”

She was on thin ice now, she would either come up with a reason why she no longer trusted her father, giving me false ammunition, or give me something closer to the truth, strengthening my position.

“Go on,” I encouraged.  
“He’s been… distant,” she began.  
“And?”  
“And what?”  
“Why does it matter that he has been distant?” I clarified.

“He’s been distant ever since I began asking him about what happened to Cailan…” she replied.  
“From your position, that should have looked like a man mourning a loss,” I said crisply, letting her know this was not enough to convince me. She would have to give me more.  
“At first, it did,” she said, “but then he started saying all these things… things about Cailan having correspondences with Empress Celene… I… I didn’t know what to think, it was like he was _angry_ at my husband.”  
“Not an uncommon thing, to be angry. Many people go through it while they work through their grief,” I said, with a wave of my hand. Anora frowned.  
“Why are you defending him, Warden?” I leaned forward a bit.  
“You are giving me explanations that might barely suffice if you were in _my_ position, but you’re his _daughter_. It would take a lot more for _you_ to believe he has lost his way.”

Anora fell silent, leaning back and staring at me pensively.

“Very well,” she finally said, “he said that Cailan was planning to marry Empress Celene. Setting me aside and handing Ferelden back to the Orlesians. If you had seen how angry he was, Warden, how he ranted, you would understand why I no longer feel safe around him.”  
“Weren’t _you_ angry? To learn that your husband was planning to divorce you?” I asked expectantly.  
“I-…” Anora began, and looked away.

For the briefest of moments, I could see the hurt in her eyes. She was angry yes, but also terribly hurt, mourning the loss of a man she wasn’t sure how she felt about anymore, except one thing.

“You loved your husband,” I said, stating it. It wasn’t a question. “And your situation is too complex to _just_ be angry, you feel a great many things,” I continued, “not the least of which is doubt.” Anora looked up like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.  
“If you already know these things, why ask me all these questions?” she asked coldly, putting her mask back in place.  
“I don’t trust you,” I said flatly.

Anora gave a stiff nod.  
“I respect that,” she said quietly. “I honestly don’t know if I trust you either… and I think we are both justified in having our reservations.”  
“We can agree on that,” I replied, relaxing a bit in my chair. Anora took it as a sign this was the right time to turn the tables in this conversation.  
“I believe there is another thing we can agree on,” she said after a brief moment of silence, “our country is in a precarious situation, and we both want what is best for it. After all, you are doing this to stop the Blight that is destroying our homeland, are you not? That army you raised isn’t marching on Denerim.”  
“It’s not,” I said with a nod, “and I have given it no orders to do so in any event.”  
“Because you gathered them to fight the Blight, not your countrymen,” Anora said, “as a Grey Warden, you know the true threat.” I didn’t reply, just looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to make her offer.

“I have the nobility, and you have the forces,” she said, “stand with me in the Landsmeet, prove to your fellow countrymen you only seek to end the Blight, as is your duty.”  
“You make it sound so easy,” I replied menacingly.  
“Isn’t it? From what I hear, your Alistair doesn’t even want to be King. I have ruled this country for years, and I wish to continue to do so,” she answered.  
“Your father has committed a lot of crimes he needs to answer for, there is no excuse for the things he did. Even if he believes they were for the good of Ferelden,” I said.  
“You want justice,” Anora said with a nod and a sad look in her eyes.  
“What I _want_ , is to have him executed,” I said harshly. Anora looked away once more.  
“So long as he gets a fair trial,” she said, “I’ll accept whatever the outcome may be. He is still a hero, he deserves to be respected as such.” I could feel my face twist into a joyless smile.  
“And what about Alistair?” I asked grimly.

“I see two options,” Anora said, “he swears loyalty to me, and denounces any claim to the throne for himself or his descendants, he will be allowed to continue to serve the Grey Wardens in Ferelden.”  
“And the second option?” I asked, already knowing the answer.  
“A political marriage,” Anora said crisply, “he is of the Theirin line, the people, and the nobility will want the throne to remain in the hands of the royal family. Bastard, or no.”

And option three, killing him to eliminate the threat he posed.

“So why have you asked to talk to me, instead of Alistair himself?” I replied, folding my hands in my lap.

Anora looked at me incredulously for a moment.  
“We are similar, you and I,” she began.  
“I sincerely doubt that,” I replied without breaking my stare. She paused.  
“Of a similar mind then,” she continued, “we know what needs to be done, and we will _do_ what needs be done.” I rose.  
“You have given me much to think about, Anora, I am in no state to make such decisions.”  
“Of course,” she replied, “I have kept you from your rest for too long. We shall speak again on the morrow, there is something you might want to look into that could help you in your campaign against my father.”

We exchanged the proper pleasantries, and I left Anora thinking she had won this battle. In her eyes, I had come in terribly angry, and left feeling as if I had made another ally. In truth, I was going to betray her, even if I hadn’t promised her anything yet. She wouldn’t allow Alistair to leave the royal palace alive if she kept her throne. The country was far too unstable to let such a threat to her power walk.

She hadn’t mentioned my relationship with him, but she knew. If her spies were any good, she knew. If she had stepped into a random tavern, she would know. And she considered _me_ the true threat. Most people assumed Alistair was easily impressed and manipulated, she wouldn’t be able to do that with me having an intimate relationship with him. And even if I wasn’t, he wasn’t likely to develop love for the daughter of the man that had murdered the man he thought of as a father.

Wise men fear the wrath of a gentle man. If Anora was anything resembling wise, she would take heed.

I shut the door quietly behind me and sighed, then shivered in revolt from having spoken to Anora. With Howe out of the picture, she had gotten very high on my wish list for people to die a violent death.

But I might need her later. I would have preferred to have killed her as soon as she stepped out in that ridiculous armor, and then I would have liked to kill her when she shouted to Cauthrien that we were kidnapping her. And again when I walked into the room Eamon had given her. If it were up to me, that bitch would die in a tragic accident after she had outlived her use.

Sadly, I also cared about a man with higher moral standards, and he wouldn’t stand for assassinating her. I rolled my eyes at myself as I started making my way back to the room I shared with Alistair. Hopefully, he would be there, and not stuck with Eamon. Or getting lectured by Wynne. I was _done_ with today’s events, and wanted nothing more than to snuggle with my dog and my Templar and drift off to sleep.

Asher had pretty much the same idea, begging me for a hug first and then nudging me to the bed where I found Alistair sound asleep. I smiled at my dog.  
“Good boy,” I said in a whisper and took off my boots. My pants went next, followed by the stolen guard’s coat I was still wearing, and my breastband. Asher walked around the bed to lie down on Alistair’s other side while I got under the covers with him. When I had settled, I felt him move to lie on his side and wrap an arm around me.

“Hi,” he whispered after gently kissing my temple.  
“Hi,” I replied and smiled sleepily.  
“Did you defeat the evil queen?” he asked.  
“Not yet, I’m laying a trap for her first,” I replied. I felt him smile against my cheek.  
“Go to sleep now,” he said, “you’ve more than earned a decent rest.”  
“So did you,” I replied.  
“Good night, my love,” he said, followed by another kiss to my temple.  
“Good night,” I sighed, and drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puta means whore. 👍


	49. Tevinter Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela and Alistair get patched up before following up on Anora's offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be trigger-y concerning slavery and racism. But it's also part of the story. There will also be mention of bullying. So here we go, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

_Oh, Maker’s arse everything hurts,_ I thought as I woke up.

My head was pounding, and the rest of my body felt as if it was one big bruise. I flexed groups of muscles to assert the damage. Mostly bruises, but there were some cuts too. Alistair groaned, probably going through the same process of discovering all his exciting new injuries as I was.

“You ok?” I croaked.  
“Nope,” Alistair sighed, “I feel like I’ve been through a wrangler. You?”  
“Same,” I replied and rolled onto my side with a groan.  
“It’s always worst when you wake up,” Alistair said, “once you start moving around, you’ll feel better.”  
“Been beaten a lot, have you?” I asked half-jokingly.  
“More than you’d think,” he said, “being raised in a Chantry doesn’t automatically make a person decent. There is plenty of bullying going on there.”

“Wait,” I said, “you got bullied? You?”  
“The nobles thought I was merely a bastard and the commoners thought I was an arrogant mishap. So yes, I had few friends at the Chantry and that made me a target,” he replied.  
“I’m sorry,” I said, “you just… you’re Alistair, likable, happy, and kind, and quick with a joke…”  
“You’re hardly an unbiased party my love,” he said with a small smile, “and you’re not a child. Or one that feels abandoned and needs to take it out on someone, for that matter.”  
“I can’t stand bullies,” I replied with a vicious undertone. He chuckled.  
“Are you going to bloody someone’s nose and throw a bag of flour on them?”  
“I’ve gotten more proficient at kicking ass,” I replied, “but a big cloud of flour always makes for a good laugh.”

We were startled out of our pillow-talk by a knock on the door.  
“Not it,” I quickly said and grinned at Alistair. He got up with a groan and gave me smile that promised me I would pay for that later. When we were not as bruised and beaten up.

Alistair put on some clothes as quickly as he could, which wasn’t very quick. The knocking on the door got more insistent.  
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” he shouted at the door, “impatient shit,” he murmured. When he got another insistent knock as a reply, he sighed in frustration and moved to the door with his pants unfastened and his shirt hanging open.  
“What!?” he snapped as he yanked the door open. Bruised and barely dressed as he was, he stared down at Anora’s handmaiden, Erlina.

“M- M’lord,” she stammered, “my apologies, I was looking for Lady Cousland, I must have gotten the rooms confused.”

_Yeah right._

I decided to hide under the covers. Not because I was worried about what Erlina would think and what she would tell Anora after being greeted by a barely dressed and very annoyed Alistair. But because I simply didn’t feel like dealing with bitches at the moment. If Anora wanted my attention, she would have to wait until I was dressed, had breakfast, and gotten sufficiently medicated. And I was planning on having a bath before any of those things. I didn’t walk out of Fort Drakon clean.

“Lady Cousland is currently indisposed,” I heard Alistair tell Erlina, “after all, cutting her way through Howe’s dungeon on behalf of your Queen, only to be beaten to a pulp and dragged off to Fort Drakon, takes a toll on the body.”  
“I… apologise, M’Lord, but the Queen insisted-”  
“Anora can wait. Lady Cousland needs to recover from being used as a punching bag after ‘your Queen’ screamed at Ser Cauthrien we were kidnapping her. She’ll have to deal with the consequences of those actions,” Alistair said coldly.  
“But, M’Lord-”  
“No. Lady Cousland will see Anora when she is ready. Until then, I suggest you don’t disturb her any further,” with that, Alistair closed the door in Erlina’s face.

“Now that, was… Kingly,” I said while peeking up from beneath the covers. Alistair gave me a crooked grin, careful not to strain the bruised half of his face.  
“Anora won’t like it,” he said and ran a hand through his hair.  
“Good,” I replied, “she’ll have to learn how to deal with disappointment.”  
“What do you think she wants?” he asked.  
“She wants us to endorse her for the throne,” I said with a sigh, “and that means you either have to denounce your claim to the throne and continue to serve as a Grey Warden, or marry her.”  
“I’m not surprised,” he replied and continued getting dressed.  
“I told her I’d think about it,” I said.  
“And what do you think about it?” he asked casually.  
“That she can fuck off to the Black City,” I replied. He smiled and leaned down for a kiss.

“That’s my girl.”  
“Your ass is going on that throne, and I don’t share,” I paused, “well, maybe I share on occasion, but definitely not with Anora.” Alistair chuckled.  
“Minx.”  
“Your minx,” I replied and started pulling him back into bed when another knock came at the door.

Alistair let out an annoyed sigh when he untangled himself from me to get back to the door. This time, it was Riordan’s voice I heard when the door opened.

“Alistair, I’ve been looking for you,” older Warden said in a friendly manner.  
“Riordan, what can I do for you?” Alistair replied curtly.  
“I heard what happened from your dwarven friend, and I wanted to check up on you,” Riordan replied, “might you know where Fela is, I should to check on her too.”  
“We’re fine,” Alistair said, “we need some rest, that’s all. Fela picked the lock on our cell, we got out before anyone could question us.”  
“How did she get lockpicks in a cell?” Riordan asked curiously.  
“Hides them in her hair,” Alistair replied, “guards missed them when we were stripped.” I heard Riordan chuckle.  
“Women, resourceful creatures. Anyway, good to hear you’re alright. If you need anything that I can help with, don’t hesitate to ask.”  
“Thank you, Riordan, we appreciate it,” Alistair replied.

“She’s inside, isn’t she?” Riordan said with an audible smirk. Alistair must have nodded, because Riordan raised his voice.  
“Glad to know you’re alright, lass! I’ll be around if you guys need anything!”  
“Thanks!” I replied from the bed and was rewarded with a hearty laugh.  
“Come see me when you have time, there are some things we must discuss,” Riordan said in a normal volume, “enjoy your rest. I’ll be in my room.” 

I heard Alistair close the door and walk back across the sitting room.  
“I’m going to get someone to send for breakfast and ask Wynne for something for the pain,” he said.  
“That’s probably a good idea,” I said, “though I wouldn’t object if you came back to bed first.” His lips curled into a smile before he shook his head.

“You’re terrible.”  
“The worst,” I admitted, “what are you going to do about it?” he gave me a crooked grin.  
“Make you wait, for one thing.”  
“Are you?” I asked, “is that what you want?”  
“I’ll show you what I want when I take it,” he replied.  
“Ooh, promises, promises,” I answered with a wink. He chuckled and turned to leave.

I enjoyed a careful stretch when I heard the door shut and Alistair’s footsteps leading away. I frowned when I realised he really _was_ going to make me wait. Though it was probably the right decision, breakfast and a painkiller would make us both feel better. And probably save us some discomfort. I sighed, and rolled onto my stomach, arms and legs outstretched. Alistair’s scent clung to his pillow, making me smile as I breathed in. I was going to take my sweet time before speaking to Anora, and I was going to enjoy every minute she waited.

Alistair was doing something similar, just without the malicious intent. He liked to play that game, and when he played it with me, it aroused him to know I was waiting for him. He liked to feel desired, loved. He had been shy at first, unsure what to do with my… attentions. But once he’d felt certain I genuinely wanted him, all of him, that quickly faded away. It had just taken some time for him to show me all the hidden sides of his personality, and there were probably still some he hadn’t shown me yet. Not in an attempt to keep me at a distance, they just had yet to naturally reveal themselves. I didn’t pry, all in due time.

I was in deep thought when a servant entered with a tray laden with food, the noise interrupting my train of thought. Alistair came in not long after, with two vials, to be added to our tea. At the sight and smell of eggs, bacon, and fresh bread, my mouth watered and my stomach rumbled. Alistair noticed, and gave me a smirk.  
“Breakfast first then?” he said innocently. I gave him a scowl, but responded affirmatively by getting up, making him chuckle.

I yawned after taking a last swallow of tea and set the cup back down, I saw Alistair do the same thing, except he kept his cup in his hand and stared into it. As I watched him stare into the cup, I could feel my limbs getting heavy and a drowsiness settle in.

“Oh, that conniving old witch,” I said as I realised what was causing my sleepiness.  
“She drugged us,” Alistair said with a frown, and yawned again.  
“Well, at least it was Wynne, we don’t have to worry about being poisoned,” I sighed and looked at the bed. It was so far away...   
“Mandatory rest…” Alistair mumbled, “she said something about mandatory rest.”

We made it back to the bed somehow, probably by dragging ourselves across the floor like an old mop. The draught worked remarkably quick. Zevran and Morrigan must have helped her, sneaky bastards. If there were any more people at our door while we slept, we didn’t hear them. We slept like the dead, neither of us waking up a single time, which was a rarity. When we woke up, our breakfast had been cleared away and the sun was high in the sky. We had slept until late afternoon.

I sighed and stretched, snuggling up to Alistair’s back and putting an arm around his chest. He was breathing steadily, still fast asleep. It took a few moments for me to realise that I had stretched and moved without any pain. Whatever Wynne had given us, it had healed my body the rest of the way. My bruises were still there, but mostly faded, like my body had gotten some kind of boost to its natural restoration rate. A bruise couldn’t be healed with magic like a bone or a cut could. The magic would knit the tissue back together. But with a bruise, it wasn’t that simple, a body had to take care of those on its own. Much like an infection or disease couldn’t be healed with magic, a bruise wasn’t simply a matter of knitting tissue back together. It helped, it helped a lot, but didn’t remove the problem. Tissue knitted back together wasn’t enough.

Enhancing one’s natural recovery however, seemed to be the ticket. It must have been something based on the healing potions we used. They did the same thing but their potential was limited. It seemed the old mage had found some way to improve and use that property, probably with some help from Morrigan and Zevran. I wasn’t sure if I was pissed, or pleased.

I was just starting to lean towards pleased, as it had served to make Anora wait even longer as well as healed me the rest of the way, when Alistair stirred. He stretched and groaned.  
“How long have we slept?”  
“Until late afternoon it would seem,” I replied.  
“Damn…” he sighed. “  
Yeah…” I answered.  
“I feel much better though,” he added. I chuckled.  
“Good, me too,” I replied and let my hand slide down his stomach and rest it just beneath his bellybutton, where I teased the skin with my fingernails while tracing kisses along the curve of his neck.

Alistair let out another, contented, sigh and rolled onto his back to claim my mouth with his, one hand resting on the back of my neck and the other snaking under my waist to cup my ass and pull me closer. I hooked one of my legs between his and let my hand slide down further to stroke the velvety skin of his dick. He responded to my touch by rolling his hips and deepening the kiss. He growled when I rubbed the palm of my hand gently across his tip, trying to press it firmer against my hand.

I chuckled against his lips, and moved to straddle him. I moved back when he tried to grab hold of my hips, brushing my breasts against his cock before sucking his tip with my lips and brushing my tongue against it. He bucked while I pressed his hips down with my hands and slowly inched my lips down his length as I sucked. Alistair’s hands twisted in my hair as I kept repeating the motion at a slow pace. I looked up to see him watching me, the intensity of his gaze send a delicious shiver down my spine. I smiled and ran my tongue up his dick while holding his stare.

He groaned, “you’re killing me woman,” he said in a warning tone.  
“Are you going to take what you want yet?” I replied innocently.

The answer was yes. Yes, he was going to take what he wanted, how he wanted it.

He pulled me up so I lay on my stomach next to him and he moved to leave a trail of hot kisses along my spine. He pressed one hand to the small of my back and used the other to nudge my legs apart. I gasped when he brushed his fingers along my lips to reach my clit and rub it with his fingertips before tracing them back and slipping them inside. I let out a moan and lifted my hips as he started moving them. He chuckled before pulling his hand back and smacking my ass, eliciting a little yelp from my lips.

He positioned himself between my legs and lifted my hips up to his, dragging me back along the matrass. I got up on all fours and cast an expectant glance over my shoulder to see him smile as he brought his palm down on my ass again. I let out another pleasured yelp. He brushed the tip of his dick against my clit before thrusting himself inside me. I whimpered quietly at the forcefulness of the movement, then moaned as he started moving inside me.

I moved back and forth to meet his thrusts, his hands guiding my hips. His grip got tighter as we moved, tight enough to bruise me. My breathing quickened as the walls of my pussy clenched around him, tightening until the first orgasm rippled through my body. Alistair didn’t relent, I cried out and sunk down to the matrass. He held my hips high as my arms gave out, resulting in a delicious arching of my back. The new angle had me panting and gasping for air with the after-shocks of my orgasm.

Alistair deepened his strokes, and smacked my ass again, just as I caught my breath. The result was a high pitched squeal, and I grasped at the sheets as I felt the burn.  
“Again,” I growled. I heard him chuckle before his palm connected with my flesh once more. I responded with a shout, and repeated my demand. Alistair complied, never faltering in his rhythm.

He leaned forward to press me down with his body and nuzzled the back of my neck. His breath was hot on my skin, making goose bumps rise on the back of my neck. We kept moving, breathing fast and moaning with the build-up of our pleasure.  
“Yes,” I whispered in between moans, “yes, keep going, please, oh yes, _yes!”_ Alistair bit down on my shoulder and groaned as we went soaring over the edge. My body tightened around him, convulsing and shuddering with waves of pleasure while he throbbed and came deep inside me. We both let out a deep sigh as we caught our breath. Alistair kissed the spot where he’d bitten me and smiled against my shoulder.

I chuckled and entwined my fingers with his.  
“God, I love you,” I sighed contently. Alistair replied with a chuckle of his own.  
“Are referring to the Maker, or me?”  
“You,” I said with a lazy giggle, “definitely you.” Alistair moved to kiss my cheek before rolling us into a spooning position.

“I’m not sure if I’m angry with Wynne, or if I should thank her,” Alistair said with a slight chuckle, “would have been nice if she had told us though, I was afraid we’d been poisoned by Anora for a moment.”  
“Would you have taken it if she told you?” I asked.  
“Well… maybe. Whatever was in that potion has taken care of the bruises, that could have taken days,” he replied.  
“Really? Hmm, I personally would have refused and asked for some elfroot instead. I wasn’t planning on sleeping all day today,” I answered with a shrug.

“Ah, so _you’re_ the problem,” Alistair said teasingly, “that’s why she didn’t say anything, you’re stubborn as a mule.”  
“Hey! She kept you in the dark too, you know. You were as surprised as I was,” I pouted, “you’re supposed to be on _my_ side.” Alistair laughed, sending a deep rumble through his chest. Positioned as we were, I felt his laugh against my back, shoulders, and the back of my head. The vibration, as well as the sound, surrounded me like a pleasant warmth. I snuggled a little closer, wishing I could bury myself in it.

“Ok, ok,” he said, “you win. So, are we pissed or pleased?” I frowned.  
“If I were _really_ honest…” I began, “I’m kind of pleased… We needed the rest, even if I wasn’t planning on taking it.”  
“We have just escaped from prison, after being beaten to crap,” Alistair replied, “and razing Howe’s dungeon.”

We were both quiet for a moment. We left a lot of bodies at the Arl of Denerim’s Estate, most brutally slaughtered. One had been given a particularly gruesome death, considering the events leading up to it.

“Are you…” Alistair began, “I mean… after… what you did to Howe…” He sighed.  
“What the fuck was that Fela?”

I cringed, Alistair had no problem killing Howe’s guards. That wasn’t personal, and it had been done with a moderate amount of civility. There hadn’t been any… unnecessarily inflicted pain, clean kills, no cruelty like I had inflicted on Howe. And I had liked it. Alistair knew me well enough to know that. But that didn’t mean he would approve.

“I tortured a dying man,” I said in a voice like stone, “and he deserved every second of it. I would have preferred to leave him to die slowly and painfully. It’s a pity I had to let Leliana put an arrow in him, I just did that because that fucker is tricky enough to come back from certain death. He’s done it before, when my father and Leonas Bryland dragged him off the battlefield at White River. I wanted to be sure he was dead,” I moved away to roll onto my other side to face Alistair, “I don’t regret any of it.”

We stared at one another for a moment, the look in Alistair’s eyes didn’t quite match my expectations. He looked… more curious than angry or appalled. That wasn’t right, I had expected him to be shocked, to disapprove of my actions.

“I’ve seen you angry before,” he said softly, “but I’ve never seen… that…”  
“You’re not… I don’t know… angry?” I asked hesitantly. He shook his head.  
“What am I going to do, expect you to have mercy on a man like that? After what he did to you?”  
“It seems out of character for you to condone my actions,” I said quietly.  
“I don’t,” he said softly, “not really… if it had been me, killing him would have sufficed. But it wasn’t me, it was you. And considering what he did, to you, to your family, to countless others, he got off easy.”  
“I wouldn’t say easy…” I replied in a mumble.  
“It wasn’t. It was probably excruciating and unnecessary. But compared to what he has done to others, if you add all that up… the shit we saw in that dungeon… what had been done to some of them…” he shook his head, “I don’t even want to think about it.”  
“You’re really not mad at me then?” I asked slightly confused. He shook his head again.

“Why? I _tortured_ a man. I did it for my own gratification, delighted in his suffering. _How can you be ok with that?_ ” I asked exasperatedly. 

“Fela,” he said and put a hand under my chin to make me look at him, “I don’t presume to understand how this works for you. Maker knows your experience of it all as an empath has to amplify it to a level that could drive anyone insane. But the one thing I understand of it all, is that you needed it.” He paused and took a deep breath before continuing.  
“I won’t pretend it didn’t scare me. I have always known you are capable of violence, cruelty, even. And being confronted with it like that…” he sighed, “I have seen you do so much good, help so many people, that I am having trouble reconciliating those two sides of you. But I’m not angry, or repulsed, or feeling disillusioned, or whatever you are expecting from me. I just… want to understand.”  
“I don’t know how to explain,” I said softly.  
“I’m not expecting an easy explanation, I’m just asking you not to shut me out,” he replied, and pulled me back to wrap his arms around me.

“Are you ok?” he asked after kissing the top of my head.  
“Yeah,” I replied, “I feel good actually, and that scares me a little.”  
“That makes sense,” he answered soothingly, “it goes against what you’ve been taught.”  
“What I’ve been taught didn’t cover creatures like Howe,” I replied.  
“So you don’t know how to feel,” Alistair said, “doing something you should have considered wrong felt good.”

“It’s this nagging feeling, telling me I’m not supposed to feel good about it. That it’s wrong- but at the same time…” I trailed off. I chuckled, a little out of desperation, and a little out of amusement.  
“You’re in my head,” I said with a lopsided grin, “sorting through the mess, aren’t you?” Alistair laughed softly.  
“Not quite, but I may have picked up a thing or two watching you.”  
“It’s kind of nice, having you up here,” I replied.  
“Glad to help,” he answered. I snuggled into his chest, allowing myself a little smile.

This man, this crazy, wonderful man, was my rock. Patient and understanding enough to forego judgement of my actions and try to understand why I had done what I did.

The demons had finally quieted down, fleeing from the commanding presence of my Templar. I could almost _feel_ my mind beginning to relax, not having to push back constantly at the demanding shadow that always loomed over my mind. Not with Alistair there. I had been wound up into a tight ball for too long, fighting to hold on to control over... something... I liked hurting Howe, and I mean, _really_ liked it. And it wasn't like it was the first time I had felt good about hurting an enemy. I was, in fact, cruel. 

So _fuck_ that little nagging voice in my head that told me it was wrong. It was done.

* * *

After a light meal, a long bath, and a tedious conversation with Eamon about Anora’s intentions, I sauntered back to the chambers she kept to. Alistair walked next to me in silence. He didn’t like the idea of lying and cheating, but he saw the necessity of it.

“It’s time to put your hard-earned reputation to work Alistair,” Leliana had said before we left, “show her what she wants to see. She is expecting you to be awkward, weak-willed, and unwilling to lead, no? Give her what she wants.”

Alistair had frowned at that. Not at Leliana, but at the image Anora was apparently expecting, and finding that his usual demeanour had achieved this quite well. Oh, if you _knew_ him, you’d know he wasn’t weak-willed at all. A bit awkward yes, and he had been avoiding a leading position at first. But he was far from the hapless oaf that some, like Morrigan, believed him to be, and he tended to use it to his advantage.

But now, his pride seemed to chafe at it. I took it as a good sign, he was finally letting go of the image he had always had of himself. He seemed to feel an urge to challenge Anora. Maybe even let her know who’s boss. I winked at him when he met my gaze. I liked bossy Alistair.

I didn’t bother knocking, opening the door and stepping in without invitation. Alistair followed, looking around the room to see Anora sitting behind a desk.

“Warden,” Anora said politely, “I trust you are feeling better after your rest?”  
“I do,” I said flatly, not acknowledging the underlying complaint.  
“I have given your words some thought,” I said as I sat down without being asked to. Alistair hesitated, looking from me to Anora, and sitting down anyway.  
“Did you reach a decision?” Anora asked primly, looking over Alistair’s rugged features.  
“Alistair has decided he wishes to remain a Grey Warden,” I said slowly, watching Anora’s face twist into a self-satisfied smirk, “but, we have a few concerns we must address.” A brief look of surprise crossed Anora’s delicate face before she fixed it and gave me a respectful nod.

“Of course, matters are too complicated to simply leave it at that. What is it you wish to discuss?”  
“As things stand, the Grey Wardens have been declared traitors to the crown,” I began, “if we are to rebuilt the Order, we can’t have bounty hunters coming after us.”  
“Naturally the Order’s status in Ferelden will be restored,” Anora said with a dismissive wave of her hand.  
“Good,” I said with a small smile, “now let’s talk about how we are going to cooperate in the future.”

We spent a good few hours on negotiating the terms of our alliance. Public announcements, financial support, taxes, military aid, political independence, I kept throwing them at Anora until she was looking for excuses to get us to leave. I was deliberately wasting her time while not giving her anything about our more immediate plans. I needed her to think I trusted her enough to focus on the future more than the Landsmeet, I also wanted to watch and study her and see if she got any messages. If she did, she had been clever enough to let someone else take them for her while we were conferring.

Leliana and Zevran were watching her handmaiden, Erlina. While Wynne was chatting up Eamon’s servants. Morrigan was probably lurking somewhere, though not in human form, to watch and listen. If Anora had any contact with anyone not at the Redcliffe Estate, I wanted to know about it. I also wanted to establish a certain image with Anora, have her believe that I wished to return to Highever to rebuilt the Order with Alistair from there. A Teyrnir would certainly strengthen our position and provide many much needed resources.

She narrowed her eyes at that, should I indeed take up the position as Teyrna of Highever, and marry Alistair, that added a whole new dimension to the proposal of restoring my birth right. It could make us a formidable ally, or a terrible foe. Anora saw the benefits of such an alliance, but she preferred her allies dependent on her. I kept her focussed on that, clouding her vision.

Alistair played his part, declaring he didn’t want anything to do with ruling Ferelden. Even declaring he didn’t like the idea of me going back to Highever to rule, saying that any obligations to the crown as Teyrna could compromise Grey Warden neutrality. He let himself be ‘convinced,’ however, that arrangements could be made. Still, Anora made no mention of the relationship between Alistair and me. Neither did she fish for any confirmation or denial. She just completely ignored it. That told me she knew all about it.

It didn’t tell me however, _why_ she would ignore it in the first place. Was she waiting for us to come out and say it? Did she think she could fool us into believing she didn’t know? I shrugged mentally, whatever her game was, it would end at the Landsmeet. The sun was setting when I finally let Anora switch the topic to the information that might help us against her father.

Once again, she told us things we already knew under the pretence of trying to help. She said she believed her father had something to do with the riots in the Alienage, and asked us to investigate. We already knew Howe was involved with the riots, that Loghain was involved was a no-brainer. Nonetheless, we would need to investigate. And we had some people to talk to.

First on the list was Bann Sighard, after freeing his son, Oswyn, from Howe’s clutches, he was more than happy to stand with us. Oswyn had made it back home and had told his father what had been done to him, and who had freed him. Unfortunately, the injury to Oswyn’s knee was beyond any healer’s skill. He could walk, barely. But he wouldn’t be doing much more than that with it. Oswyn wasn’t with his father in the Gnawed Noble, he’d been send back to Dragon’s Peak for his recovery. He handed me a letter from Oswyn though, I tucked it away safely. I wasn’t going to read it in the middle of a tavern.

The next stop was Bann Alfstanna, Zevran had already given Irminric’s ring to her and she had collected him from his cell. She was positively outraged when I told her I suspected he had been jailed because Loghain wanted to use the blood mage he was transporting back to the circle as an assassin. The location of the disappearance, the timing, the fact that Jowan had been instructed by Loghain to poison Eamon, and Irminric ending up in a dungeon to tie off loose ends, all pointed to Loghain. Smart enough not to keep Irminric in his own dungeon and instead giving him to Howe.

Howe liked to play with his toys though, so instead of killing him outright and disposing of the body, he kept him locked up. Alfstanna declared her support then and there. And indirectly, freeing Irminric had earned us goodwill with the Chantry. The Grand Cleric couldn’t overlook Loghain’s actions, he had unlawfully imprisoned one of their own and freed a blood mage in their custody. It would help to get the Chantry to lean our way at the Landsmeet. Their Templar had been returned to them, after all, and Isolde had gotten right on that. Making sure they knew who had found and freed their disciple.

We left Wynne and Leliana at the Gnawed Noble to chat up some more of the nobles and spread news of what had happened in Howe’s dungeon. And, more importantly, who had been found down there. Zevran, Morrigan, and Oghren accompanied Alistair and me to the Alienage. Anora had given us a formal document, bearing her seal, announcing that we were to be given access to the Alienage.

The guards reluctantly allowed us passage after some coaxing from Alistair and me. Making them feel as if we sympathised with them for being given this job. Both of them had little love for ‘knife-ears,’ as elves were often referred to by the human population, and they weren’t subtle about it. Zevran kept his face masterfully impassive during the exchange. Something he called his ‘Wicked Grace-face.’

The Alienage was a slum. We had expected that. But what we didn’t expect was how empty it seemed. Morrigan looked around with narrowed eyes.  
“This is most unexpected,” she said quietly.  
“Why? Did you expect a horde of starved elves to swarm us?” Oghren rumbled. Morrigan gave him a cold look.  
“Do lend us your wisdom,” she said acidly.  
“There’s been a plague, right?” Oghren replied.  
“That information was given by a mole,” Alistair said, “though it makes sense that there would be a lot of deaths if there was a plague.”  
“It’s possible,” Zevran replied, “but be on your guard nonetheless. It almost feels like an ambush.”  
“Almost,” I replied, “but not quite.” Something was off, that was for sure. Looking around, there wasn’t a single person in sight. We slowly made our way down the empty dirt-road street. Had there really been a plague? Why were there no bodies, or people picking them up? Or had it really been that bad and there was no one left? Still, where did they all go?

“So this is where humans banish the elven population to,” Morrigan said quietly, mostly to herself.  
“Better than Dust Town,” Oghren said with a shrug, “but not by much.” He looked around uneasily. We had followed the empty street around a bend, and still there was no sign of any elves. Zevran stopped us by holding up a hand and listening intently. Straining to hear what he had picked up, all I could hear the vague noises of the Market District behind the gates to the Alienage.

“I think I might know where they have gone,” Zevran said and motioned for us to follow him. He led us through several more streets before we stepped into the main square with the Alienage’s Vhenadahl, their sacred tree. We had started hearing the noise a few streets back, there were still people here, and they weren’t happy.

“How can you be so foolish! If their spells worked, why hasn’t anyone returned!? We cannot trust these Shems!” A redheaded elven woman was speaking to the crowd with fervour. However, few were apparently willing to listen. Some blatantly ignoring the feisty redhead, others giving her dark looks. She turned when she notices us approach.

“More bloody Shems,” she said with a glare, “what do you want?”  
“To know what’s going on?” Alistair offered. The elf scoffed.  
“Same thing that’s happening everywhere else. Shems abusing elves.”  
“I take it you don’t like outsiders,” Alistair replied curtly.  
“You think!?” the elf replied rhetorically while glowering up at Alistair.

“I’m thinking this one isn’t going to be much help blondie,” Oghren rumbled after taking a swallow of whatever was in that bottomless flask of his.  
“’ _This one,_ ’” the elf said sharply, “wants each and every _Shem_ out of our Alienage.”  
“How about, uh,” Oghren mumbled while he was searching for a word, “what’s that word again, Fae? Durgel… something?”  
“Durgen’len,” I replied.  
“Yes! Durgelen,” Oghren said jovially, “we’re not here to cause any trouble lass, Queen has send us to find out what has been going on. She doesn’t trust Howe’s word, and he’s dead anyway.” Something I couldn’t quite place crossed the elf’s face.

“Mi querida,” came Zevran’s exotic tenor, “something is obviously wrong here. We know it, you know it, but your people don’t seem to. Perhaps we can help.” I guess Zevran did manage to place whatever it was that crossed the elf’s face. She studied each of us before the tension in her posture seemed to lessen. Maybe it was because Zevran read her better than I did, maybe it was his natural charm. No matter, the angry redhead looked back at her people before turning her gaze back to us.

“Who are you people?” she asked bluntly.  
“Zevran Aranai,” Zevran introduced himself and gave a little bow, “this is Oghren, Morrigan, Alistair, and Fela.” The elf narrowed her eyes.  
“Wait, aren’t you two the Grey Wardens the King is after?”  
“Depends,” Zevran quipped, “are you a fan of Loghain?”  
“Not really.”  
“Do you have a problem with Grey Wardens?”  
“Nah.”  
“Then yes,” Zevran said with a smile, “and they’ve been working very hard to stop the Blight. I know because I was there for most of it.”

“Shianni,” the elf said and extended her hand to Zevran, who took it politely and dipped his head. “I must say, the drawings don’t bear much resemblance,” Shianni said and gave Alistair and me a nod.  
“That’s probably a big part of the reason we haven’t been arrested yet,” Alistair replied with a lopsided grin.  
“Technically, you _did_ get arrested,” Zevran said lightly, “and thrown in jail.”  
“We got out,” Alistair said with a shrug.  
“And here we had a rescue a planned and everything,” Zevran replied and nudged Alistair’s ribs with his elbow. Well, his chest plate where it covered his ribs. It made a soft metallic ‘clank’ when Zevran’s elbow piece connected with it. Shianni observed the exchange with a curious look.

“You escaped from prison?” Shianni asked with slight disbelief.  
“Fort Drakon, to be exact,” Zevran said and looked between Alistair and me proudly.  
“Really?” she replied sceptically, “and you’re still in town?” she chuckled, “most people would have fled across the border.”  
“We’re not most people,” Alistair said unapologetically.

“So I’ve heard,” Shianni replied and crossed her arms across her chest. “You said the Queen send you? Escapees from Fort Drakon?”  
“Long story,” I said with a distasteful look.  
“Arl Howe was keeping her prisoner, she asked us for help. We got her out but we got captured in the progress,” Alistair surmised, “we got out. Now we’re here.”  
“All the same to me,” Shianni said with a shrug.  
“How about you explain why all these people are here and why the rest of the Alienage seems empty,” Zevran said encouragingly.

Shianni explained that anyone who showed signs of plague was being quarantined, by Tevinter mages who claimed they could cure it. However, none of the people who had gone into the hospice reserved for the quarantine had come out. Shianni was trying to warn her people but they were frightened. She also explained that there had been riots, but that they had not been instigated by the elves. Vaughan Kendells was responsible for that. After taking several women during a double wedding, including the brides, and ‘have some fun.’ After that, he decided to gather a couple of friends and ‘test’ their new weapons on the residents of the Alienage.

I have to say, I was starting to feel _really_ bad for letting Vaughan out. Still though, I was going to kill him when he outlived his usefulness. It was cold, cruel, and calculating. And not at all beneath me. Nor was it beneath him.

I stood watching Alistair and Zevran talk to the guard at the back entrance to the building that supposedly held the people who had been infected with the plague. The plan was to convince the guard that Zevran was infected. From there it was a matter of getting the guard out of sight and knocking him out. It wasn’t the most subtle way of investigating, but we needed to do this quick. We couldn’t stall the Landsmeet much longer and anything we could use against Loghain would strengthen our position further. While it seemed as if we now had the majority of the nobles on our side, it would be naïve to expect no unpleasant surprises. Should someone turn on us, or should Loghain come up with something particularly creative in the time he had left, I’d rather have some more ammunition up my sleeve.

I remained within hearing distance, Alistair and Zevran didn’t speak Tevene. That might lull the guard into believing he didn’t need to watch what he said as long as he said it in his own language. As I listened to Alistair claiming that Zevran was infected, I studied the building to find ways to sneak in or escape from if necessary. Morrigan had transformed into a spider, regular sized, to do some reconnaissance of her own while Oghren stayed with me. The guard didn’t seem to believe Zevran was infected, but, he did say Alistair appeared to show symptoms. He urged them inside so the healer could take a look, at Zevran too, just to be sure.

Which was… really weird. We knew for a fact Alistair didn’t have the plague, Wynne would have noticed when she patched us up. Either the guard was imagining things, or something else was going on. All the same, the moment the door closed behind them, Alistair and Zevran clobbered the guard and opened the door again to let Oghren and me in.

“Doesn’t sound smell like any sick people are here,” Oghren said after taking a good sniff. Alistair chuckled.  
“What? What would that smell like?”  
“Sour, like vomit, sweat, and fever. Possibly the smell of shit if this is the kind of plague that gives you the runs,” Oghren replied, “smelled like that when a plague decimated Dust Town. Though Dust Town always smells like vomit, sweat, and shit.” He added the last bit with a shrug and peered into the hallway beyond.  
“Don’t hear nobody moaning and wailing either,” he rumbled and cast a glance at Zevran, who shrugged.  
“Well, let’s look around,” I said and stepped into the hallway that led further into the building.

We checked every room while we made a sweep. We found not a single resident of the Alienage. Only Tevinters. And they didn’t hesitate to attack us.

“Lots of Vints” Zevran said as he pulled his dagger from a corpse, “no ‘healers’ so far though.”  
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked darkly. Zevran nodded.

“Don’t bother knocking anyone out, a good killing will do,” I announced and looked back at Oghren, Alistair, and Morrigan, who had joined us soon after we entered the building.  
“Slavers,” Alistair said when Oghren quirked an eyebrow.  
“Ah,” the dwarf replied, “well that would explain the lack of bodies. And why no one actually seemed sick.”  
“The elves of this Alienage seemed to believe it, though,” Morrigan said crisply, “a marvellous example of how ignorance leads to hysteria.”  
“Sympathetic as always,” Alistair said with shake of his head and moved to lead us further into the building, looking for proof of slavery.

It was a tedious job, the quarantine had been a front, that was obvious, but it didn’t explain where all the people went. They had to go somewhere. Finally we found a backroom with two massive cages. Inside were several frightened elves.

“You- you’re not with them?” an older woman asked hopefully. I shook my head and got to work on the lock on the cage.  
“Have you seen any others? Do you know where they are?” I asked.  
“No,” the woman said, “only that we were to be transported to Tevinter.”  
“Will you look for them?” a young boy with wild brown hair asked, “will you look for my dad and my sister?” I halted to look at the boy who stood half hidden behind the woman I had been speaking to.  
“I promise I will look for them,” I said, and I meant it. I wanted to promise the boy his father and sister were fine and that I would get them home. That everything would be alright. But I could make no such promise. Chances were, the majority of the ‘sick’ elves who had been quarantined at the hospice were already on a ship to Tevinter.  
“What’s your name?” I asked gently and looked up at watery blue eyes.  
“Killian, miss,” he said and sniffed.  
“I’m Fela,” I said and smiled reassuringly, “can you tell me what your sister and dad look like? And what their names are? That might help me look for them.” Killian described his sister and father with great detail, even telling him about a scar his sister bore in her left eyebrow from when she fell off a roof.

I looked up at the woman in front of the boy, “any information you might have, no matter how unimportant it may seem, could help us find the rest of your people.” The woman looked at me thoughtfully.  
“I think they were using the back alley, to move their prisoners. But I don’t know where.”  
“That’s a good start,” I said with a nod and resumed picking the lock.  
“They mentioned someone, Caladrius, I think,” she continued, “and a warehouse.” The lock clicked, earning me a relieved cry from several of the imprisoned elves.

“This might interest you,” Morrigan said handing Alistair a note and a key she had taken off a desk. “’For the next shipment, bring eight males and six females,’” Alistair read aloud.  
“And now you know why they wanted you both to come inside,” Morrigan said with a slight smirk, “I count six men coming out of the cage.” Oghren chuckled,  
“Ruined their day real good,” he quipped and kicked at the corpse at his feet. We accompanied the elves we freed back to the back entrance. We needed to investigate the back alley anyway.

“Do you think Anora was aware there are slavers active here?” Alistair asked quietly.  
“I’m not sure,” I replied, “on one hand, it’s extremely valuable information in bringing down Loghain if we find proof that he is involved. On the other hand, I’m not sure she was really intending to sell him out quite so effectively. There might not even be any proof at all. She might intend take credit for removing Tevinter slavers… I’d have to talk to her about it.”  
“Do you think you can pry it out of her?” he asked.  
“Definitely,” I replied.

The back alley didn’t offer many options. There was a single door leading to some run down apartments. It was the only way the slavers could have gone if they were moving people through this alley. Coincidently, the key Morrigan had given to Alistair fit the lock.

“Looks like there was a fight here,” Zevran said quietly while Oghren closed the door behind him. Furniture had been knocked over, a dinner table was still set with rotting food, and there was a stuffed bear lying in a pool of blood. I frowned when I looked at that last one.

“How delightfully morbid,” I said sardonically, “now all we need is a few ghosts with homicidal urges towards anyone who enters.” Morrigan let out a dark chuckle.  
“Well, now you jinxed it.”  
“The horror,” I replied flatly. We made a quick sweep, though we didn’t find a single living soul. Neither did we find any dead ones, or spectral ones, for that matter. We made our way through the apartments quickly, entering a closed off alley.

“Convenient,” Alistair observed, “away from prying eyes, difficult to reach.”  
“That’s Tevinter efficiency,” Zevran said quietly, “they tell people there is a plague so they come willingly, they’re put in ‘quarantine,’ no questions when the ‘sick’ don’t come back.”  
“Can’t imagine they’d risk their merchandise by exposing it to a possible plague carried by whomever they added to their assortment,” I replied, “let alone risk it being carried back to Tevinter.”  
“Definitely no plague then,” Alistair answered while I knelt to pick the lock to what I hoped was the warehouse.  
“I wonder what the ‘symptoms’ must have been, how did they convince everyone of a plague if nobody was obviously sick?” Zevran mused.

“Obviously, these people are uneducated, gullible, submissive, and afraid,” Morrigan said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “such a crowd is easily manipulated.”  
“How would you know?” Alistair asked her with a sideways glance. Morrigan shrugged.  
“I may have lived in the Wilds, that doesn’t mean I never paid a visit to what you people call civilization.”  
“Why am I not surprised by that answer?” Alistair said and shook his head.  
“Because you share three out of four characteristics,” Morrigan said curtly.  
“Which ones?” Oghren asked curiously.  
“Who cares,” Alistair replied.  
“Would you _shut_ _up_?” I hissed, “I’m trying to pick this lock.”  
“Don’t you do that with lockpicks instead of ears?” Oghren asked with a scowl.  
“Both, I need to hear the-” _click_ “tumblers,” I finished and tucked my lockpicks away.

We quietly made our way inside. As Oghren and Alistair moved further down the hallway, Zevran held up a hand with a sharp gesture.  
“Leg-hold traps, my friend,” he whispered and moved past the warriors to disarm them.  
“Alright,” Alistair said quietly gesturing to Zevran and me, “sneaks up front.”  
“Hope you enjoy the view,” Zevran quipped. Alistair chuckled.  
“Part of it,” he replied and covertly cupped my ass as I passed him. Morrigan made a disgusted noise behind him but didn’t say anything.

Zevran and I crept ahead of the others after taking care of the traps, the Tevinter slavers had made some serious effort to keep any unwanted guests away from the warehouse. So naturally, we kept going. The hallway led to a dimly lit corridor lined with doors, leading to several rooms. Some were used for storage, others to house Tevinters, and one was an office. Alistair and Oghren looted the storage rooms while Zevran and I made our way down the corridor and disarmed any traps we could find. Morrigan followed close behind, watching and listening for anyone coming our way. Zevran and I had our attention mostly on the floor, so I felt safer with Morrigan watching for us. The witch agreed with my logic and had assented to her task with a polite nod.

The three of us set to clearing the corridor and getting to the office at the end, where the corridor bent to the right. There it gave access to another part of the building. We didn’t want anybody coming at us from behind so we could be closed in. So before we moved on, we checked the last room. The office.

“Morrigan, could you keep watch until Alistair and Oghren get here? I want to search this room,” I asked and stepped inside. The desk was nothing fancy, though the things littered on top of it mostly were. Zevran picked up an ornate bottle of ink and a matching pen, looked at the items appreciatively, and pocketed them.

“For when I need to write a fancy letter,” Zevran said with a shrug as he caught my eye. I chuckled and went through the other items. There was a letter opener, that matched the bottle of ink and the pen Zevran had just stolen, so I handed it to him. For the set. Fancy letters get more fancy letters in reply, and they need to be opened with a fancy letter opener. Also, we were in the habit of robbing enemies. And we weren’t going to stop now. I took a nice pouch of gold, a time piece, a rosewood box of golden naval navigation instruments, a magnifying glass, and a leather bound notebook. Only a few pages had been used, so if those weren’t any use I could just cut them out. Zevran offered to lend me his fancy pen and ink bottle to write in my fancy notebook.

We went through the papers on top of the desk next, I found a map of Tevinter, drawn in an elaborate style. I pocketed that too. Because it was fancy. There were several correspondences from the Tevinter Circle of Magi, most of them were orders or requests for information. Some of it about Alistair and me, as the only Grey Wardens currently in Ferelden. Tevinter was aware that Ferelden was currently fighting a Blight, and it was planning on letting the Blight weaken it and the surrounding countries. Whether that meant they saw the Blight as a war opportunity to restore the Imperium, I could only guess. I hadn’t been expecting any help from Tevinter anyway.

“Are you going to translate those for us?” Zevran asked, peaking at the letters over my shoulder.  
“The slavers we’re after, they work for the Tevinter Circle of Magi. They’re addressed to a mage called Caladrius, it would seem he has permission from Loghain himself to conduct his business,” I said, “most of these are orders, some very specific. And these,” I held up the letters asking about the Blight and the Grey Wardens fighting it, “are requests for information about the Blight and how Alistair and I are handling it.”  
“Does that mean they’ll come to help?” Zevran asked, “because if it does, they are coming here to stay.” I shook my head.  
“They intend to let the Blight ‘weaken’ us, Orlais, and Nevarra. Apparently the brilliant Magisters of the Imperium haven’t yet figured out what a Blight does to the land itself.” Morrigan scoffed from the doorframe.

“If they are foolish enough to let the Blight spread that far, they’ll perish with the rest of us.”  
“Assuming we don’t succeed in stopping it,” I replied.  
“Assuming,” Morrigan said with a nod. Sadly, the reality was that is was highly probable that we would fail. The closest thing to an Archdemon, that we had actually _fought_ before, might have been Flemeth. And that’s only because she transformed into a dragon, I might not have understood much of either of them, but I knew they were fundamentally different. And before facing off with the Archdemon and probably getting eaten after being roasted, there were plenty of other opportunities to die. We were, in fact, in the process of overthrowing our King Regent and Queen.

We continued our way through the warehouse until we found who we were looking for. A bald middle aged man in mage robes stood in the middle of a large hall with more cages filled with prisoners, Caladrius. He turned as we entered and let out an annoyed sigh.

“What is the meaning of this? I was told there would be no guard interference.”  
“Do I look like a guard?” I sneered as I strode into the hall. The mage looked me over and gave a chuckle.  
“No, you look like a Grey Warden. And this must be the bastard prince,” he said looking from me to Alistair, “I am Caladrius, of the Minrathous Circle of Magi.”  
“Good for you,” I replied acidly and looked over the guards spread out in the hall.  
“There is no need for such hostility, Warden, we wish nothing more than to conduct our business,” Caladrius answered in smooth tones. His glibness made my skin crawl.

“Not happening,” I replied. Caladrius gave another annoyed sigh.  
“Why don’t we ask your King-to-be?” he said and turned to Alistair, who looked appalled.  
“What!? No!” he snapped, “what in the Void makes you think I’d approve of this!?” Caladrius held up a parchment, bearing the royal seal.  
“This,” he said, “is the formal agreement between King Regent Loghain Mac Tir and the Minrathous Circle of Magi, authorizing us to conduct our business.” I raised an eyebrow.  
“And?”  
“There was always an expiration date on this venture,” Caladrius said matter-of-factly, “and I see no reason to resort to violence now that it has come to an end.” He paused for effect. “

I propose a trade,” he continued with a wide gesture, “I take the last of my merchandise and sail home to my beloved Tevinter. And you receive irrefutable proof that Loghain Mac Tir is involved with slave trade.” He held up the document and looked at Alistair and me expectantly.

“I say we take it off his corpse,” I said as I turned to Alistair and shrugged.  
“I quite agree,” Alistair replied and readied himself to smite Caladrius.  
“There is really no need,” Caladrius said crisply, “we are just negotiating, are we not? I can sweeten the deal for you.”  
“I don’t want to hear it,” Alistair replied and drew his sword. Caladrius clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “such a shame, to pass up an opportunity such as this. Let me at least inform you of what you are refusing, if you are going against Loghain Mac Tir, you need all the strength you can get. I can give you some of that strength, if you let me go peacefully.”  
“Probably blood magic,” Alistair said under his breath, “it’s always fucking blood magic.”  
“I take it you refuse my final offer?” Caladrius said stoically.

Without waiting for an answer, he hurled a fireball at us. Alistair tackled me to the ground with his shield raised, angling it down a bit and shielding us both from the blast. Morrigan and Zevran got to work on the archers while Oghren roared and stormed at the nearest guard. I quickly got to my feet and ducked to the side to evade another fireball, moving away from Alistair and giving Caladrius two separate targets to worry about. It bought Alistair the time he needed to smite Caladrius and drain his mana.

I advanced and attacked, only to be blocked by Caladrius’ staff. He redirected the force of my blow, and moved his staff to slam it down at me while he pushed me rapiers to the side. I moved aside, evading his staff and stepping past Caladrius to swipe at his side. He twisted to evade my attack and lashed out with a vicious kick. That was a new one, coming from a mage. Ferelden mages weren’t exactly taught how to fight in armed combat, rather than with magic.

I moved back to evade his kick and twisted sideways when he swung his staff at me again. He was too late to fully evade a swipe from Alistair’s sword, and took a shallow cut to his shoulder blades. It caused him to stagger before he swung his staff at Alistair, it connected with his armor, as he made no effort to move out of the way of the attack. He didn’t need to, and used the opportunity to grab at the staff. I leapt forward while Caladrius had his back turned to me and ran him through before he could start drawing on his own blood. I pulled my rapiers free and we let Caladrius drop to the floor to engage the remaining guards.

I blocked an incoming sword with one rapier and used the other to stab my attacker in his chest. I turned and took another with a high kick, sending him to the ground before jamming both my blades down and in his abdomen. I swiped at the third as I came up, forcing him back before kicking at the dying man’s hand while he reached for his sword. The next kick connected with his head, and he stopped moving. I stepped aside to evade the third attacker while he stumbled forward after being bashed by Alistair’s shield, tripping over his companion. I cut his throat. Sprinting at one of the remaining archers, I jumped and slammed into my target feet first before he could nock his next arrow. We went down, and I cut his throat too before he could reach for his dagger. The last Tevinter guard fell as I rose to my feet and marched to the cages to get to work on the locks. Meanwhile Alistair retrieved the, slightly bloodied, document Caladrius had offered.

“M- my Lady?” a young woman with wide eyes said uncertainly. She looked terrified, unsure of what I was going to do with them.  
“You’re going home, to your families,” I replied reassuringly, “we rooted out the entire slavers operation.” She sighed with relief, tears streaming down her cheeks as the tension left her body.  
“Thank you,” she whispered.  
“No need,” I replied as I worked, “this never should have been allowed to happen in the first place. You are Ferelden citizens, your ‘King’ should have protected you.”

“My Lady,” the girl said hesitantly, “I hope you don’t mind my asking but… have you seen my brother?” The lock clicked and I opened the door.  
“Killian? Young boy, blue eyes, messy brown hair?” I asked as I let the elves out of their confinements.  
“Yes!” she said hopefully, “have you seen him? He was at the hospice with my father and I, but we were taken first.”  
“We’ve already freed him and send him home,” I smiled, “he asked me to look for you, is your father here too?” She nodded and gestured at a middle aged man that observed us cautiously from a distance. I sighed and smiled a little wider.  
“Good.”

Zevran had picked the lock on the other cage while I worked on mine, and was letting the rest of the people out. An older man was shaking his hands vigorously and soon turned to me and approached. He introduced himself as Valendrian, Hahren of the Alienage. After briefly discussing recent events, I finally had a grasp of what had truly happened. Vaughan Kendells had caused the ‘riots’ when he came to the Alienage with his goonies to test their new swords, the elves had defended themselves. Howe had razed it in retaliation, and as a cover for imprisoning Kendells in his own dungeon.

There had never been a plague, it was a rumour the Tevinter slavers used to gain people’s trust. As Zevran had summarized earlier. We had the facts, we had proof, and the slavers had been taken care of. I decided that it had been a good day. We returned to the Arls of Redcliffe’s estate later that night. As Shianni and Valendrian insisted we share a drink before we left. Shianni had realised that it had been us who had freed her brother Soris from Howe’s dungeon, and it changed her attitude towards us drastically. Though she was very insistent I get rid of Vaughan Kendells, she even offered to take care of him for me. I didn’t make any promises, Shianni understood I couldn’t.

We implicitly agreed he would be taken care of after the Landsmeet, and Shianni wanted in on it. I would happily oblige. I was glad to have some friends in the Alienage, I hoped we could change a few things for the elves, some day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Mi querida"  
> "My dear" or something similar.


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group wraps up their preparations for the Landsmeet.

“What do you mean she’s gone, weren’t you watching her?” Alistair said angrily and glared at Eamon from across the desk.   
“She has simply vanished, we had people stationed at her door, none have seen her leave,” Eamon said with his hands spread in front of him.   
“All this worrying about what it might look like if something happened to her, what kind of story Loghain would spin, and you let Anora slip between your fingers,” Alistair said with his forehead resting in his palm.   
“It would seem we were never in control of the situation,” Eamon offered.   
“It would _seem_ you underestimated her,” Alistair barked.   
“It doesn’t change anything, you have proof of Loghain’s crimes, you don’t need her,” Eamon said soothingly.   
“I never _needed_ her, Eamon, I was keeping her close so we could _watch_ her,” Alistair snapped. I sighed.   
“Do you have anyone looking for her? She doesn’t exactly keep a low profile.”   
“Our spies are doing what they can,” Teagan said, “she’ll turn up.”   
“Oh yeah, she’ll be at the Landsmeet,” I said sardonically, “I’m retiring for tonight, I’m done.” I rose and moved to the door. Alistair rose as well and followed me to the door of Eamon’s office.   
“We’ll figure this out in the morning,” he said and followed me into the hallway. 

I sighed and shook my head when Alistair closed the door behind him.   
“She’s trying to get us to panic you know.”   
“I know,” Alistair sighed, “doesn’t make me any less frustrated.” We started walking towards our quarters.   
“Me neither,” I admitted, “but I don’t feel like fixing this fuck up.”   
“If she had wanted to leave, she could have just said so. We weren’t keeping her here against her will,” Alistair said with a shrug.   
“Which is exactly why she disappeared without a word, she’s tempting us to go after her,” I replied.   
“Why though?” Alistair answered.   
“Who cares,” I replied flippantly. Alistair chuckled.   
“Don’t want to think about her anymore?”   
“Precisely,” I answered.   
“I can help with that,” he whispered, resting a hand on my hip and pulling me a little closer as we walked.   
“Hmm, what did you have in mind?” I purred.

In reply to my question, Alistair stopped walking to pull me in for a kiss. It started tender, with his hand on one of my cheeks and his lips gently brushing against mine. Then his kiss became hungry, and his hand weaved through my hair while he pulled me firmer against him with his other arm. I brushed my tongue against his lower lip to urge him on, feeling my pulse quicken. My arms snaked around his neck and I pressed myself against his chest. His kiss became demanding, forceful, and I let out a little moan when our tongues met. In a flash of movement, I found myself pressed against a wall, being devoured. I ground my hips against his and dug my fingers into his shoulders. I wanted more, I wanted to get to our bedroom, _right fucking now._ Alistair seemed to have the same idea, he picked me up and I wound my legs around his waist. I’m not sure how we made it to our quarters without falling or walking into something, but we did. That did not mean, however, that we made it to the bedroom.

Alistair kicked the door closed behind him and set me down to unbutton my blouse while I unlaced his breeches. He pulled off his shirt while I kicked off my boots and let my blouse slide off my shoulders before getting rid of my breastband. Meanwhile Alistair went down on his knees to pull my leggings down along with my panties. I stepped out of them, and Alistair pulled one of my legs over his shoulder, trailing kisses along my inner thigh, one hand cupping my ass and the other brushing up against my other leg. He nipped at the spot where my leg met my torso while his fingers reached my centre.

I wound my fingers through his hair, sighing at his soft ministrations and closing my eyes. Then moaned when his tongue lightly brushed my clit and his fingers curled inside me. He set a slow, luxurious, rhythm. After the heated urgency from before, my attention was suddenly sucked to the sensations Alistair was eliciting from my body. It left me wanting for more, and I ground up against him subconsciously.

Absorbed by the heat and pleasure he was giving me, I soon found my leg starting to tremble while I rocked against his mouth, keeping a firm grip on his hair with one hand. The other was tangled in my own hair, I sighed and moaned with my head tilted slightly back with every thrust of his fingers and each caress of his tongue. He let me savour it, slowly building up to my peak. He kissed, licked, sucked, and caressed until I was barely able to stand. If not for Alistair supporting me, I would have slumped to the ground when I went over the edge, feeling my body contract around his fingers with waves and waves of delicious relief. My heart was pounding in my ears, and the edges of my vision darkened briefly before I caught my breath and came down.

Before I was fully recovered from the shocks the orgasm had triggered, Alistair hoisted me up and pressed me against a wall, keeping my body suspended between his, and the stone. I gripped a metal candelabra, bolted to the wall, with one hand and hooked my free arm around Alistair’s neck and shoulders while he kissed me hard and pulled himself free from his breeches. His cock brushed against my lips and gently against my clit, still overly sensitive from my orgasm. I moaned into his mouth, tasting myself on his lips and his tongue.

All other thought had gone out the window, the only thing I was still aware of, was Alistair and all the wonderful things he was making me feel. But that didn’t mean there was any coherent thought, all I knew was that I wanted more of him, now. Now, now, _now!_ Alistair rolled his hips, sliding in, filling me. An explosion of new pleasurable sensation shot though me and I gasped. Alistair bit my lower lip and groaned, pushing himself deep as he could go, savouring the feeling of my heat clamped around him, slightly spasming from the intensity of feeling him fill me so completely while still sensitive from the first orgasm.

Then he started moving, lightly, but deliberately. And I was once again lost in the pleasure he was giving me, my body was moving with him of its own volition. Alistair moved his kisses to my neck, and down to my shoulder, nipping and licking until he reached the muscle that ran from the base of my skull, to the top of my shoulder. There he bit down, as he kept driving me into the wall. The urgency of his thrusts increasing steadily until they became forceful, unyielding, and finally desperate.

His breath came in increasingly fast pants, and sweat beaded on his back. I clung on to him, desperately chasing our joint release. His mouth covered mine when I started to come, muffling the cries that came from my lips. I let go of the candelabra to wrap my other arm around his shoulders and return his kiss with abandon. I broke the kiss and tilted my head back as I a bolt of amplified pleasure shot through me, followed by waves of release. Alistair bit my neck and groaned as he reached his own climax, slowing to a stop and breathing heavily.

I let my legs lower to the floor, only to find I couldn’t quite stand on them. Alistair chuckled against my neck and kept an arm around my waist to keep me upright. He kissed me again, softly, and lovingly. No teeth. As he always did. No matter how dominant or demanding he got during sex, he always became gentle and affectionate afterwards. As if he was taking care of me after exerting me. Or to reassure me he always would.

He picked me up again and carried me to the bed, Put me down gently and got down next to me as he pulled the covers over us. I curled up against his side, barely managed to mumble, “I love you,” and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Alistair and I decided to speak to Riordan before Eamon and Teagan. Mostly because we figured Riordan had waited long enough, but also a little because we figured it would be a more pleasant conversation. Or at least, an enlightening one. We met him in the gardens, where he was playing fetch with Asher. The fact that my Mabari seemed to like the man enough to play fetch with him, spoke well of him. Asher was a good judge of character, as most Mabari are. The person doesn’t choose the Mabari, the Mabari chooses the person, as they say. Not that Asher had ‘chosen’ Riordan, he had imprinted on me when he was a pup and was fiercely loyal.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t like other people too, he got along great with Sten. In fact, Asher had many friends, and he had made them on his own. He flopped down on the ground when he noticed Alistair and me approach, panting with a wide doggy-grin. Riordan followed Asher’s gaze and smiled when his eyes fell on us.   
“Good morning,” he said and stood to shake Alistair’s hand and give me a slight bow.   
“I understand you have had a productive evening?” he continued and quirked an eyebrow.   
“We did,” Alistair said with a nod.

“I was hoping to talk to you about your recent activities in the city,” Riordan began, “I’ve done some asking around, and it would seem you are quite politically involved.” Alistair’s expression turned blank, the smile melting away with calculating caution.   
“What about it?” I asked, staring up at Riordan, daring him to criticise us.   
“Traditionally, Grey Wardens don’t involve themselves with politics, they remain a neutral party,” Riordan said, “now I understand things have been difficult, you were on your own all this time with no guidance from senior Wardens. I regret that, I honestly do, but making a Grey Warden King has serious consequences for the Order.”

I narrowed my eyes at Riordan.

“’Traditionally,’ you don’t leave stopping a Blight to two new, extremely under-informed, Grey Wardens,” I said acidly, “if you’re offering advice, Warden Riordan, I am willing to listen, Maker knows we have wished for some advice or answers a thousand times before, the Order just _loves_ its secrets, as we have discovered over the last year or so. However, if you are looking for a discussion on Grey Wardens involving themselves with politics, I must disappoint you.”   
“Making a Grey Warden King is hardly something we can overlook,” Riordan replied, “it doesn’t affect just you two, it affects Grey Wardens all over Thedas.”   
“Think _very_ hard about what you are doing here, Riordan, _who_ you are talking to,” I answered coldly.

If he thought he could swoop in and take over after we had gone through hell and back to fight this goddamn Blight, alone, without any information, any guidance, or support, he had another thing coming. The Orlesian Wardens had done _nothing._ We had been alone, left to fend for ourselves. And now this _asshole_ came to pass judgement? Alistair put a hand on my shoulder.

“We’ve done what we could with what little we had, Riordan, if you disapprove of our methods, that’s your problem. We have had no help whatsoever from other Grey Wardens, and we’ve come this far, we are not stopping now.” Riordan sighed.   
“You’ve accomplished an amazing feat, I am not discrediting that, but as Grey Wardens, we need to look out for each other. Your actions here reflect on the Order as a whole.” I let out a bitter laugh at that.

_“'Look out for each other!?'”_ I sneered, “has it occurred to you, Riordan, that this sort of thing works both ways? _Where were_ you _when we were fighting for our lives, when we faced_ countless _enemies alone!?_ Have you ever been to the Deep Roads? Gotten stuck in the Fade realm of a demon? Cleared out nests of darkspawn? A tower full of Maleficar? Fought a broodmother? Blood mages, abominations, werewolves, demons, hitmen, assassins, bandits!? We’ve been hunted like _animals! And still did our jobs!_ ” I lifted my shirt to show him my back, side and stomach, streaked with pale silver lines.   
“Do you know how many times I’ve been _ripped apart!?_ ” I hissed, “do you have any idea how much of my _blood_ I’ve spilled? How many bones I’ve broken!? Did you think we were on some storybook adventure where the hero becomes King? We have done what is necessary, _sacrificed_ what was necessary. What have _you_ done? Beside getting yourself arrested?”

The words had left me like mouthfuls of blood, my rage enveloped me and felt like it was radiating off my skin. I had been keeping this down for a _long_ time, and Riordan had made the mistake of making himself the main recipient of my fury by criticising our choices. Riordan set a step back at my outburst, holding my stare as I spoke. Alistair kept his hand on my shoulder, but didn’t stop me from chewing Riordan out.

The older Grey Warden stared at me with wide eyes, and took a few moments before he spoke.   
“Ah, lassie, I’m sorry,” he finally said, “we weren’t there when we should have been, we failed you in that respect. Politics… They are a necessary evil, we can’t send our troops into a country where we have been declared outlaws. You’ve done so much, it’s easy to forget you were only recruits when this Blight started.” I deflated a bit, and relaxed my stance.   
“We can’t change what’s in the past,” Alistair said, “and the Archdemon is drawing near.” We fell into a silence, we could all feel it, the song. It was always there, the siren call of the Taint in the background of our minds. Easy to dismiss, to filter out. But it was getting louder, clearer. Time was running out.

“Only one thing matters now,” Riordan said quietly, “we have to get this country ready to face a Blight. There is a secret armoury in the city, known only to Grey Wardens. There is not much I can do to help now, but I can at least see you and your companions are properly outfitted.”

Alistair nodded and Riordan continued to give him directions and instructions to open the cache. I hung back a little, scratching Asher behind his ears. Good thing Alistair controlled his temper better than I did, he would deal with Riordan for me. Like I dealt with the nobles for him. After we left Riordan, Asher had decided to side with his mistress, we made our way to Eamon’s office. Our intention was to discuss how we would handle Anora’s disappearance, but the time for that had passed. The last nobles had arrived, we were ready to call the Landsmeet.

“Alistair, Lady Cousland,” Eamon said as we entered his office, “I’ve received word that the Landsmeet will convene later today.” Teagan looked grim, a look we didn’t often see on him.   
“Well, I suppose this is it then,” Alistair said and ran a hand through his hair.   
“If you still have any business in the city, it would be best to conclude it as soon as possible,” Eamon replied. I sighed, and looked at Alistair.   
“We should get to that warehouse Riordan told us about then,” I turned back to Eamon, “we have the nobility and plenty of dirt on Loghain, we’re ready,” I added more confidently than I felt. There was still Anora’s disappearance, we wouldn’t be able to resolve that before the Landsmeet convened. We couldn’t drag her back to the Arl of Redcliffe’s Estate, that would mean playing into her hand. Whatever she was up to. Eamon nodded.   
“Teagan and I will go ahead to the royal palace, in the meantime, I suggest you prepare as well as you can.”

We gathered our companions to inform them the Landsmeet had been called. Zevran, Morrigan, and Sten would come with Alistair and me to the Grey Warden armor and weapons cache. Leliana, Wynne, Oghren, and Shale would go with Teagan and Eamon. Leliana and Wynne would go through all the nobles, strengthening our ties one last time while Oghren and Shale were to keep Eamon and Teagan safe. They were our foremost allies and would handle proceedings for us, that meant they both had a huge target on their backs. Having a healer and a bard handy would serve them well if anything should happen before we made it to the Royal Palace. Riordan would keep a low profile, but he would be present. Meanwhile, Alistair and I, plus Asher of course, led our group to the warehouse in the Market Square.

“Nervous?” I asked Alistair quietly as we made our way through the crowded streets of Denerim. He chuckled wryly.   
"You have to ask?”   
“No,” I replied, “I’m being polite.” He gave me a small smile and sighed.   
“I’m nervous, yes, my stomach is tied in knots, and I’m feeling slightly lightheaded. But… I think I’m ready. Whatever we are facing in the Royal Palace, it can’t be worse than anything we went through before. Though it’s just as likely to kill us.”   
“I’m nervous too,” I admitted and slipped my hand in his gauntlet. He squeezed it reassuringly. Sten, Morrigan, and Zevran all kept quiet and refrained from commenting. They felt the pressure too.

We continued the rest of the way to the warehouse in silence. Asher padded next to me, looking just as tense as we felt, he gave me a look that said, _please be careful._ I rubbed his neck with my free hand to reassure him that, yes, I would be careful. But there was the Warehouse first, I entered first, and was forced to duck behind a crate immediately when an arrow flew straight at me. Alistair used his shield to give Sten, Morrigan, and Zevran safe entry before they took cover behind more crates and boxes.

Zevran drew is his bow while Morrigan readied an ice storm spell, they would provide cover while Alistair, Sten, and I moved in. With a nod from Zevran, I crouched low and moved forward to take cover behind another crate. I had no way of seeing how many enemies we faced without risking an arrow between my eyes, so I trusted my companions to cover me as I kept moving forward, Alistair and Sten followed. When Morrigan’s ice storm spell hit, I took the opportunity to dash forward, leaping over crates and boxes and getting to the archers that had taken us under fire.

An elbow to the side of a head, blade slashing a bow string, the other thrust into an abdomen. Twist, kick, and duck. Lash out while getting up, advance, keep them on the defensive. It happened automatically these days, my body simply knew what to do. Alistair was next to reach me, he barrelled into a man with a crossbow before he could aim it at me. Zevran took another with an arrow in his throat while Sten slashed at the shield warriors that had advanced. When the last of our attackers were down, we had a chance to look at who they were.

“Loghain’s men,” Alistair said darkly, “they must have been waiting for us to come for the cache.”   
“That implies they knew the cache was here, why not loot it and leave?” Sten replied, as he went through the pockets of one of the dead men.   
“Because _this_ isn’t the cache,” Alistair said, gesturing around him.   
“Then what are we doing here?” Sten asked with a frown.   
“The backroom,” Alistair replied and moved to inspect a wall.

“What backroom?” came Sten’s brusque reply as he moved on to the next corpse to loot, Morrigan and Zevran did the same while I kept an eye on the door that led back to the streets.   
“It's hidden,” Alistair replied as he ran his hands along the wall to look for a false brick, “there should be… ah, here we go,” Alistair moved the brick and flipped a switch. The wall slid back and sideways soundlessly, and revealed the Grey Warden cache. I left Asher to watch the door, though I wasn’t expecting anyone coming in after us, and joined Alistair as he started to inspect weapons and armour, looking for anything he could use. Morrigan, Zevran, and Sten did the same.

There were no Sten-sized armors to be found, but he found a pair of silverite boots that fit, and a helmet. Zevran took silverite chainmail, two daggers, and an elegant sword. He was admiring his new look in Grey Warden rogue gear when my eye fell on a shield. A familiar shield, how did it get there?

“Alistair,” I called, as I picked up the shield and held it out to him.   
“That’s- that’s Duncan’s shield,” he said quietly.   
“How can it be here? He had it at Ostagar…” I said with a frown and trailed off. Either Duncan walked off that battlefield to bring his shield here, or someone else had found him before we did. The latter seeming the more probable option, perhaps Riordan?   
“Doesn’t matter,” Alistair said, and took the shield from me.   
“Thank you,” he whispered and gently kissed my cheek.   
“Well, you did say you would have liked to have something to remember him by,” I answered and brushed my hand along his arm. He chuckled.   
“I’m still not used to people actually listening when I talk.”

I smiled up at him before going back to looking for anything useful. Alistair tried to talk me into getting something with metal plating, so we compromised and I switched my ironbark armor for silverite chainmail. It wasn’t as comfortable as the ironbark I had been wearing since the Brecillian Forest, but it was a lot stronger. It didn’t feel as bulky as I had anticipated, and was pleased with the freedom of movement left by supple, leather arm guards. The chainmail covered my torso, and the reinforced leggings were a good fit. I wouldn’t have to worry about them sagging off my ass during a fight. I also took a pair of knee-high, hobnail boots, and a sash with eight throwing knives. I strapped Asher’s Gift and another silverite dagger to my hips, and belted my rapiers on my back. Sten had sharpened them for me when Alistair and I were passed out from Wynne’s potion.

He had also taken the liberty of cleaning, sharpening, and oiling King Maric’s sword. He had offered it to Alistair this morning, and said that it was fitting that he should carry his father’s sword. Alistair had resisted calling Sten out on his sentimentality, and the sword was now resting in the scabbard at his hip. Duncan’s dagger on his other hip, and his shield on his back. He had decided to wear Grey Warden plate armor rather than Cailan’s armor, as Eamon had urged. He wasn’t his brother, he wouldn’t present himself as someone he wasn’t. He wasn’t raised in luxury, nor was he raised a prince. He was a Knight, and a Grey Warden.

We walked out of the warehouse armed to the teeth, even Morrigan had taken Grey Warden battle mage robes and had a pair of daggers strapped to her hips. I had found a harness for Asher that protected his flanks, his neck, and the top of his head. It also featured a small pouch containing health, and lyrium, potions. Underneath, he still wore his war paint, though I had altered it to match his new harness. He walked proudly in it, not al all displeased to be wearing something on his body like most dogs would be. We turned a lot of heads as we crossed the Market Square and headed for the Royal Palace. As far as people could tell, five Grey Wardens and a Mabari strode down the streets. That only Alistair and I were truly Grey Wardens, was of little consequence. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop a contingent of Crows from ambushing us in a run-down alley.

A smug looking human stood atop a set of stairs, looking as if he had been patiently waiting for us. The large number of leg-hold traps were clearly meant to limit our movement, and there were archers on the rooftops. But the human leaned against a stone railing like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Zevran, my old friend,” he said jovially, “it’s good to see you.” Alistair and I looked at Zevran expectantly, his face was an expressionless mask, his eyes fixed on the man atop the stairs.   
“Mathiesen,” Zevran said lightly, though the slight change in his posture told me he was on his guard, “it’s been too long. What brings you to Ferelden during a Blight?”   
“I have come to offer you a second chance, my friend,” Mathiesen said with a wide gesture, “we can make up a story, convince them you fulfilled your contract, come home to Antiva.” Zevran shook his head.   
“I can’t do that, amigo. I pledged myself to the lovely Grey Warden here, I am aiding her in stopping the Blight.” Mathiesen looked aghast.   
“You mean you are here of your own free will? Toda esta ciudad huele a perro.”   
“Si, pero no puedo abandoner a mis amigos,” Zevran replied. Mathiesen’s face went from aghast, to disgusted, to angry.   
“Estos tontos!? Ellos seran tu muerte!”   
“Tal vez, pero valen la pena,” Zevran turned to me, “sorry about this, my friend, the timing is quite abominable.” Alistair frowned.   
“You’re going to have to translate, because this sounds bad.” Zevran smiled.   
“I stand with you my friends.”   
“Escucho lo suficiente,” Mathiesen sneered, “arqueros!”

I yanked Alistair and Morrigan behind cover at the command, and arrows started flying. Sten managed to get to cover on his own, and grinned when he smashed into the scaffold that held three archers. They went down with the structure. Zevran had leapt up the stairs to get to Mathiesen. Morrigan transformed into a giant spider to skitter up the wall and go after another group of archers. Sten was hacking at the archers that had fallen off the scaffold he destroyed, shouting for Alistair and me to get going.

I made use of my new throwing knives immediately, taking one archer in the chest to keep him from aiming at Morrigan while I sprinted across the cobblestones toward another scaffold. I leapt at one of the horizontal beams holding the structure up, and pulled myself up. From there I climbed onto the next beam, crouched and drew one rapier before leaning out and straightening to swipe at whatever I could hit. My blade found the calves of an archer, he stumbled, tripped, and tumbled off the scaffold. I moved across the beams to get to the other side of the scaffold. Leaned out again, and came up to thrust my rapier into another archer’s gut. He went down and off the scaffold. Morrigan took the third for me, she had reverted to human form and blasted the last archer with a fireball.

I jumped down the scaffold, rolling upon impact and sprinting after Zevran. He was fighting Mathiesen on his own, daggers flashing and bleeding from a cut to his forearm. His face was twisted in a mask of rage as they traded and blocked blows. I hesitated, I had never seen Zevran like this. He was snarling at Mathiesen and bared his teeth. Zevran forced the other crow back, relentlessly swiping, thrusting, and cutting. Mathiesen retreated until he had his back to a wall. Zevran didn’t relent, if anything his attacks were getting more vicious. He cut Mathiesen across the chest and thrust the other dagger just below Mathiesen’s ribs and twisted it, Mathiesen spat blood and cried out in agony. The other rogue lashed out weakly but found himself easily blocked by Zevran.   
“La mataste,” Zevran hissed as he twisted his dagger further, Mathiesen cried out again.   
“Nos traicionaste,” Zevran’s face was less than an inch away from Mathiesen’s, holding the dying man’s gaze.   
“Me das asco.” Zevran twisted the dagger one last time and yanked it out. Dropping Mathiesen to the ground.

Zevran stood motionless, staring down at Mathiesen’s corpse.

“Zevran?” I called, “Zev? Are you ok?” Alistair and Sten ran up the stairs behind me and stopped when they saw Mathiesen dead on the ground. Zevran still didn’t respond, staring down at Mathiesen’s body.   
“Zevran, estas bien?” I took a step forward, “hey, hablame,” I gently put my hand on his shoulder. He let out a deep sigh and finally turned to face me.   
“Necesito algun tiempo, estare bien.” I nodded.   
“Whatever you need.”

Alistair gave a look that meant, _are you going to translate that or what?_ I gave him a nod and a small smile, it meant, _later._

“Are we finished here, then?” Morrigan said impatiently, “we have a Landsmeet to get to.” Alistair shot her a dark look, Morrigan was never one for subtlety, though it was pretty obvious Zevran was upset.   
“She’s right,” Zevran said, switching back to the common tongue, “let’s go dethrone a King, shall we?” he hid his distress well, adopting his usual swagger without skipping a beat.

We continued the rest of the way to the Royal Palace without incident, and I found myself secretly disappointed. The knot in my stomach was so tight it hurt, we had been working towards this moment for a very long time, and now that it was here… This would be the turning point, our lives were about to change fundamentally, _again_.

So I got very busy denying to myself that it scared me and that my hands trembled while we made our way past the Palace Guards and up the steps to the grand oaken doors. Alistair wasn’t having a much better time of it, judging from the set of his jaw and carefully blank expression. The anticipation send me straight into a state of high alert, and it took a lot of willpower not to reach for my rapiers whenever a guard made some random movement.

We were in Loghain’s territory now, and we weren’t welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Toda esta ciudad huele a perro."  
> "This entire city stinks like dog."
> 
> “Si, pero no puedo abandoner a mis amigos,”  
> "Yes, but I can't abandon my friends,"
> 
> “Estos tontos!? Ellos seran tu muerte!”  
> "Are you mad!? They'll get you killed!"
> 
> “Tal vez, pero valen la pena,”  
> "Maybe, but they are worth it,"
> 
> “Escucho lo suficiente,”  
> "I've heard enough,"
> 
> “arqueros!”  
> "archers!"
> 
> “La mataste,”  
> "You killed her,"
> 
> “Nos traicionaste,”"  
> "You betrayed us,"
> 
> "me das asco."  
> "you disgust me."
> 
> "Zevran, estas bien?"  
> "Zevran, are you ok?"
> 
> "hablame,"  
> "talk to me,"
> 
> “Necesito algun tiempo, estare bien.”  
> "I need some time, I'll be fine."


	51. The Landsmeet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just that, the Landsmeet.

“You will go no further, Grey Warden,” a familiar voice called from the hallway that led to the grand hall where the Landsmeet was being held. Ser Cauthrien stood with her sword drawn in front of a small contingent of soldiers.

_Fewer than last time._

I approached silently, staring her down as I drew closer.  
“It’s come to this then, has it?” I said evenly.  
“You leave me no choice,” she replied unapologetically.  
“Choice… such a funny thing,” I replied, thinking of Flemeth, “you _do_ have a choice, Ser Cauthrien. You can let me pass, and allow this perfectly legal procedure to play out. But you don’t believe Loghain will emerge King from this Landsmeet, should you let it proceed, do you?” Ser Cauthrien’s face twitched, a flicker of shock crossing it. I had hit the mark.  
“There is nothing legal about slander, lies, and forged evidence,” Ser Cauthrien spat.  
“Your loyalty is commendable, but you are letting it blind you to a fault,” I replied evenly, “Tevinter slavers in the Alienage, a blood mage send as an assassin to poison the Arl of Redcliffe, the Templar transporting him imprisoned, tortured, and driven nearly mad by Lyrium withdrawal, Howe’s sick indulgences, his brutality to the people, the list goes on.”  
“False accusations,” Ser Cauthrien hissed, “baseless conjecture!”  
“Does believing that really let you sleep at night? Because if it truly was baseless conjecture, Loghain makes a shit monarch,” I answered.  
“I believe the man makes a shit monarch whether it’s true or not,” Zevran said with a shrug, “after all, his country is in shambles. In Antiva we simply assassinate those who aren’t up for the task. Of course, we also assassinate those that are, but let’s not get side tracked.”   
“Enough!” Ser Cauthrien shouted, “men, kill the Grey Wardens! Do not let them through!”

Ser Cauthrien lunged at me, her sword swung down in a low arch. I sidestepped, elbowed the side of her head, and drew my rapiers. She rolled away from me when I swiped them down at her, lashing out with her sword as she came to her feet before attempting the bash me with her shield, I sidestepped again, moving in close and slashing at her shield arm. My blades found metal plating before I spun away from Cauthrien’s incoming sword. I went down and continued the motion to land a kick to the side of her knee, causing it to buckle into an unnatural position. Cauthrien grunted and slashed at me viciously in retaliation, driving me back.

“Didn’t expect that from a girl in a frilly dress, did you?” I sneered, and hit her shield arm with a twist kick, continuing the motion and slashing my rapiers at the exposed skin between her helmet and cuirass. She managed to deflect the blow, but was forced a few steps back and lost some ground. Another wild swing of her shield, followed by her sword. I parried the attack and managed to puncture the chainmail protecting her shoulder just below her pauldron. A twist and a jab, and Ser Cauthrien cried out, kicking me in my stomach and away from her.

I let the blow send me into the ground, rolled into it, and was on my feet in time to block her sword, swung at my neck. I could tell by the decreased strength of the blow that the wound in her shoulder was hindering her. She noticed it too and attacked with her shield instead, swinging it at me in an attempt to hit my face with its edge. I bent back a little to let the shield move past me and jabbed one of my rapiers up into her armpit, where it wasn’t properly protected. She screamed, armpits are sensitive. The other I used to punch her in the face with my hilt, interrupting her cry of pain. She didn’t go down, but backed up and raised her shield in front of her to fend me off.

I wasn’t going to bash in a shield with my rapiers, so I went at her with kicks, aimed to disrupt her stance and create an opening for me to fully disable the shield arm. She staggered back, her shield arm tiring with the effort and the pain of the wound in her armpit. I was gaining momentum, relentlessly pushing her back, I heard her grunt with each impact. One last sweep kick, followed by a reverse kick, and her shield clattered to the ground, her shield arm in an awkward angle at the elbow. I knocked her blade aside when she raised it, stopping the attack before she could execute it. Two more blows to the base of her sword and it clattered from her hand. She lunged at me, her greater weight slamming into me. I went with it, let myself roll back and planting my feet against her stomach.

_Fuck that armor is heavy._

I used the momentum of our fall to push her up and over. She clattered to the ground loudly and let out a grunt. I had dropped my rapiers somewhere between Cauthrien’s body slamming into me and hitting the ground. Before Ser Cauthrien moved to get up and find a weapon, I rolled over, got up on hands and knees, and slammed my fist into her temple. She went limp.

I let myself drop to my back and sighed, taking deep breaths.  
“Fuck,” I moaned, dragging out the word.  
“Are you alright?” Alistair rushed to my side.  
“Yeah,” I panted, “kind of got body slammed by a woman in full plate armor…” Alistair chuckled.  
“You still got her though,” he said and looked at Ser Cauthrien’s limp form.  
“Oh, I didn’t kill her,” I replied and gingerly sat up with Alistair’s help, “just knocked her out.” I showed Alistair my slightly swollen hand and he arched an eyebrow.  
“Any particular reason?” I grinned, “yeah, help me get her up.” Alistair gave me an odd look, and called Sten over. Ser Cauthrien came to as Sten and Alistair hoisted her up, and groaned.

“Could you set her with her back against the door, please?” I asked curtly.  
“Why? What are you doing?” Sten asked.  
“Making an entrance,” I replied brightly. Sten and Alistair looked at each other for a second, Sten shrugged and they dragged Ser Cauthrien towards the door that led to the grand hall.  
“To the Void with you Warden!” Ser Cauthrien spat, “you’ll doom us all.”  
“Is that right?” I said in a low voice and leapt forward with a kick that had all my weight and momentum behind it. It send Ser Cauthrien crashing through the heavy wooden doors, slamming them wide open and I strode in with purpose. It was dramatic, yes, but don't underestimate the effects of an epic entrance on your audience. I was doing it to get everyone's attention, and it worked perfectly.

The room fell quiet and all heads turned to Alistair and me, entering with long strides.  
“Loghain Mac Tir!” I bellowed, “how many times is that you’ve send people to kill me? I lost count.” Shock flashed across Loghain’s face before he collected himself enough to snarl a reply.  
“And here we have the reason we are all here arguing instead of fighting the Blight! Tell me Warden, how much of Ferelden needs to fall?”  
“You’ve finally acknowledged the Blight then? About damn time, it could have saved half an army if you had caught on sooner of course, but let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth,” I sneered.

Loghain looked slightly taken aback at my open hostility. Last time we met, I had been trying to antagonise him by blatantly playing games with him. Right now, I was making an impression on a large number of nobles. Playing the infuriatingly polite, innocent, little Lady, wasn’t going to cut it. I searched through the crowd for Magnus, I hadn’t seen him since we had arrived in Denerim. _He’ll be here,_ I said to myself, _uncle Magnus will be here._ Eamon and Teagan were standing up on the dais with Loghain. As he met my eyes, Teagan nodded towards the nearest row of seats to his left. I met my uncle’s blue piercing gaze, and smiled.

“The Grey Warden’s failure has cost us our King!” Loghain spat, staring at me furiously.  
“From where I was standing atop the Tower of Ishal, it looked like you retreated after we lit the beacon. Abandoning our King and the Grey Wardens to be slaughtered. As I recall, we agreed you would _flank_ the horde after we lit the beacon, not run away from it,” I replied and came to a stop in the middle of the grand hall, a few feet away from Loghain. I saw his eyes briefly flitter at the Grand Cleric, she had been at the last war meeting at Ostagar, bickering with a mage from the Circle whether they could be trusted with the beacon when King Cailan declared he wanted Alistair and me to light it. I followed his gaze and gave him a little smile.

“I did what I had to for the _good_ of _Ferelden,_ ” Loghain said firmly.  
“Was freeing a blood mage, imprisoning and torturing a Templar, and having Arl Eamon poisoned good for Ferelden? Was the blood mage uprising you caused at Kinloch hold good for Ferelden? How about selling your own citizens into slavery?” I replied coldly, causing a murmur of whispers to sweep through the nobles gathered in rows along the grand hall.

“The Grey Warden speaks the truth,” came Alfstanna Eremon’s voice over the hum of whispers, “my brother Irminric was imprisoned by Rendon Howe, on Loghain’s orders.”  
“The Chantry cannot overlook this, Teyrn Loghain,” the Grand Cleric said sharply. Ser Gregoir had come to Denerim for the occasion, and stood, staring menacingly at Loghain, from where he loomed behind the Grand Cleric.  
“A lot of innocent lives were lost at Kinloch Hold, mages and Templars alike,” he said gravely.

“But what of the woman who killed a man in cold blood in his own keep!?” Loghain bellowed when the whispers rose to an insistent murmur. I arched an eyebrow.  
“Rendon Howe betrayed my father and sacked Highever when our armies had left for Ostagar, he killed my nephew and my sister in law in cold blood. As well as Landra and Dairren Lorren and both my parents, Bryce and Eleanor Cousland,” I said evenly, but clearly, keeping a steel grip on my grief and my rage, “on _your_ orders. He imprisoned Oswyn Sighard, and tortured him. He also imprisoned Vaughan Kendells to usurp his position as Arl of Denerim, like he usurped my father’s position as Teyrn of Highever. And let’s not forget his imprisonment of your own _daughter,_ Loghain, and she came to _me_ to get her out.”

“My son will never fully recover from some of the things that monster did to him!” Bann Sighard shouted before Loghain could open his mouth. Vaughan Kendells shouted out a string of colourful insults aimed at Howe and Loghain before being shushed by one of his friends. The murmur now rose to a steady hum of outraged voices.

“Speaking of _your Queen,_ what have you done with my daughter after you dragged her off to the Arl of Redcliffe’s Estate?” Loghain bellowed over the chatter of the crowd, “my daughter has done nothing but what was best for Ferelden, and you repay her by taking her hostage!”  
“I believe I can speak for myself, father,” came Anora’s cool voice from a side-door.

“Lords and Ladies of the Landsmeet,” she said, striding to the middle of the grand hall to stand with Alistair and me, “this man is no longer the hero you once knew. I pains me to say this, but I fear my father has lost his way.” Loghain’s eyes went wide with disbelief at his daughter’s words, the hurt in them briefly causing me to feel sorry for him.  
“A- Anora…” he stammered.  
“This is ridiculous!” came Bann Ceorlic’s voice, “the Blight is what’s important, I put my trust in King Loghain!”  
“South Reach stands with the Warden!”  
“Dragon’s Peak stands with the Warden!”  
“The Storm Coast stands with the Warden!” Magnus bellowed, and soon everyone was shouting, hurling insults, and throwing cups, shoes, and drinks.  
“Ferelden’s nobility at its finest,” Zevran whispered to Alistair with a sly smile.

I looked around the grand hall, everyone was shouting, Loghain, Eamon, and Anora included. Looking up at the balcony, I saw the Grand Cleric motion for Ser Gregoir to lean in closer, and saying something in his ear.

“Enough!” Ser Gregoir bellowed, silencing the bickering nobles and the Grand Cleric rose.  
“I call for a vote, to determine who will lead us against the Blight,” she said in her clear, cool voice.

The voting already kind of started when people started shouting out who they stood with, but certain protocols had to be followed. It was a technical thing, the proclamations of support would only hold merit if a vote had been officially called. The Grand Cleric had done just that, cornering Loghain and moving things along when it became clear the Landsmeet favoured us. Letting the shouting continue would only drag the meeting out. Wasting precious time.

Excepting Bann Ceorlic, one by one, every party gathered at the Landsmeet cast their vote in our favour. I felt more relieved with each vote, the tension in my muscles easing and my breath coming more freely. Next to me, I felt Alistair go through the same thing.

“Guards, take my father into custody,” Anora said evenly, though her eyes betrayed her. She took no pleasure in selling her father out. I almost felt bad about using her. But not quite. I met Eamon’s eyes, and gave a nod.

“There is still one more matter, your eminence,” Eamon said curtly, “Anora’s claim to rule.”  
“What-” Anora began, her gaze focussing on me with an outraged look, I interrupted her.  
“It is my honour, to present to the court, King Maric’s lost son.” Anora’s carefully composed face had twisted into a mask of rage as realisation dawned on her.  
“Our beloved King Cailan’s brother,” I continued, “who secured an army to defend you against the Blight. A good and honourable man, and the rightful King of Ferelden, Alistair Theirin.” Alistair immediately tensed again, straining not to look self-conscious as a whisper went through the crowd.

“I will not stand for this!” Loghain shouted and shook off the guards that were holding him, Anora raised a hand when the guards reached for their weapons, and Loghain took a few determined steps towards Alistair and me.  
“This Landsmeet is a farce! I cannot stand by and let our country be destroyed!” he bellowed, raising a hand to his sword.  
“Careful, now Loghain,” I said darkly, “there is no going back once you draw that sword.” I stared him down, daring him to raise his blade.  
“This is treason!” Loghain snarled, “my daughter, _your Queen,_ has ruled this country justly for years while your _King_ got himself killed playing hero! She has proven herself an able ruler. This… _Grey Warden,_ will _not_ be King while I draw breath!”  
“That actually works for us,” I replied in low, icy tones.

The crowd exploded, Magnus roaring over the noise of every noble in Ferelden shouting something or another about treason, bloodlines, and nug fuckers.  
“That traitor had my sister killed!”  
“He left our King to die!”  
“Traitor!”  
“Execute him!”  
“He betrayed King Cailan!”  
“He cost us half our armies!”  
“My father died at Ostagar because of him!”  
“Kill him!”  
“He betrayed his country!”

I held Loghain’s gaze as the shouts continued, staring up at his pale blue eyes.

_Y_ _ou reach for that sword, you’re dead._

“Order!” Gregoir bellowed, and the shouting faded to a soft murmur. The Grand Cleric rose from her seat.  
"I see only one fitting solution to this dispute. Teyrn Loghain, the charges against you and the strength of the prince’s claim leave me no choice. The matter of who will rule and lead us against the Blight will be settled by combat.”  
“I stand for Queen Anora,” he replied without hesitation, “and I accept whatever fate she sees fit.”  
“Father no, don’t do this,” Anora pleaded, guilt and grief plain on her face.  
“There is no other way,” Loghain replied stoically.  
“Father, _please!_ You could die!”  
“A father will always fight for his daughter, I would have it no other way,” he replied in a resigned tone. The Grand Cleric turned her attention to me.

“And who stands for the Grey Wardens?” she asked. I looked at Alistair.  
“Alistair, you should be the one to do this.”  
“Gladly,” he replied menacingly and stepped forward.  
“Then it is settled, whenever you are ready,” Eamon said motioned for everyone to clear a space and I took the opportunity to take Alistair aside before he faced Loghain.

I laid a hand on his arm, willing it to stop trembling.

“It will be alright,” Alistair said before I could speak and put a hand on my cheek.  
“I know,” I said with a small smile, “but I think I still get to worry. Loghain is no joke.”  
“I’ll be fine,” he replied and leaned his forehead against mine.  
“And careful?” I whispered.  
“And careful,” he agreed.  
“I need to hear you say it,” I confessed, I was afraid for him, afraid he’d get hurt or killed. My heart was racing in my chest, and my breaths came shallow.

“I promise I’ll be careful,” Alistair whispered in reply, “I love you.”  
“And I love you,” I answered.  
“Now go, I trust you,” I said and straightened, giving him a half-smile, “you’ll win.” He smiled in return before turning and approaching Loghain in the centre of the grand hall.

The crowd roared as the two men took their places opposite on another. Some shouting encouraging words, others calling for blood. Somewhere among the people organised on chairs and benches, someone drummed up a steady rhythm which others soon started to follow. Magnus barked something I didn’t quite catch, and another layer of stomping feet and fists joined the first. Building to an up-beat staccato. My heart drummed along in my chest, the rumble of fists and feet slamming into wood and stone oddly soothing, as I watched Alistair take long determined strides towards the centre of the room.

Both men nodded stiffly before drawing their weapons and shields and starting circling each other. Loghain came at Alistair hard, his shield raised in front of him and his sword held ready. Alistair caught the blow with his shield, redirected it and stepped past the older man, bringing his sword down at Loghain’s shoulder. Loghain twisted and blocked, leaving himself open to be knocked back by Alistair’s shield. Loghain stumbled back to put some distance between them, shaking off the blow. Alistair waited, letting Loghain come at him again to measure his attacks. He was getting a feel for what Loghain could do.

He caught Loghain’s sword on his shield, lashed out with his own and pushed Loghain back. Loghain quickly regained his balance and went back on the offensive. Alistair blocked, parried, and evaded every swipe and thrust, waiting for Loghain to tire. Knowing the older man would tire before he did. Alistair was young, had been at war for the better part of a year. In a drawn out fight, Loghain would be hard pressed to keep up.

So Alistair kept on the defensive, Loghain wouldn’t tire out soon. He was too experienced a warrior to burn through all his strength quickly. Long and extended battles had taught him that in the war against Orlais. I balled my fists to keep my hands from shaking when one of Loghain’s attacks came just a little too close to succeeding before Alistair twisted out of the way. Then I mentally head slapped myself, we had fought side by side countless times. I knew what he could do, he would be fine. But standing there on the side-line and watching, doing _nothing,_ I found myself near shaking with worry.

Alistair knocked aside another attack and punched Loghain in the face with the hilt of his sword. Blood squirted from his nose as he staggered back, and Alistair advanced. Hitting Loghain just between the pauldron and cuirass, he grunted when the metal pierced his chainmail and kicked Alistair square in the chest. He fell down on his back, and rolled, avoiding Loghain’s downward thrust. Blocked another blow as he rose to his knees, and lashed back at his opponent while he got to his feet. Alistair swiped at Loghain again, finding the space just beneath Loghain’s cuirass. He smashed his shield into Alistair in return, who took the blow. Loghain’s wounds were slowing him down a bit and his strength was weaning. Alistair pushed him back, lashing out with his sword. Loghain blocked, staggering under the impact of the blow. Alistair kicked his knee, rammed his shield into him and send him clattering to the ground.

Loghain rolled into it and got up quicker than I would have given him credit for, slashing at Alistair, who knocked the blow aside. Loghain lunged, and Alistair sidestepped the wild thrust of his sword and slashed at Loghain’s side. His cuirass caught most of the blow, but the space between the back-and front piece was left unprotected. Loghain cried out, spun, and was blocked by Alistair’s shield once more when he swung his blade sideways. Alistair kicked Loghain’s knee once more, and kicked his shield off his arm as he went down on his good knee. A sickening crunch marked the breaking of bones, despite the metal bracers. Alistair knocked Loghain’s sword from his hand next and held the edge of his blade to Loghain’s throat before the weapon hit the ground.

Both men were breathing fast, one staring up at the other. From the set of Alistair’s shoulders, I could tell he was just barely managing not cutting Loghain’s throat right then and there.

“I… yield…” Loghain finally said, sounding tired more than anything.  
“Father-” Anora gasped.  
“It’s alright, Anora, he’s won,” Loghain replied without averting his gaze from Alistair’s.  
“Then it’s settled,” Eamon said formally, “Alistair wins the duel.”

_T_ _hat means-_

The crowd exploded. A deafening symphony of cheers and cries of victory erupted. I could almost physically feel the force of it sweep through the grand hall The Grand Cleric bowed her head.  
“Lords and Ladies of the court,” she said when things quieted down, “the odds have favoured the Grey Wardens.”  
“No!” Anora shouted, “I was coerced!”  
“Everyone here has been coerced at some point,” Teagan said off-handedly. Meanwhile Alistair still held Loghain at sword-point, staring down at the man on his knees.  
“What will become of my father!?” Anora demanded. Suddenly, all eyes turned to me.

“We await your judgement, Warden Cousland,” the Grand Cleric said with a slight bow. Before I could answer, Riordan stepped forward.  
“If I may,” he said, “I think I may know of a solution.” I arched an eyebrow.  
“What did you have in mind?”  
“Conscript him into-”

“No!” Alistair and I shouted at the same time.  
“Are you crazy!?” Alistair added.  
“We would have to put him through the Joining first,” Riordan replied.  
“The Joining is often fatal, is it not?” Anora cut in, “and he would fight against the Blight, we cannot spare a single man, let alone a war veteran. He can still fight for his country, can you afford not using his expertise?”

_And put him in a position to send another army to its death? Great idea!_

“It is not a bad idea to put him to use,” Eamon mused.  
“No,” I said definitively, “as acting Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, I cannot allow a man who deliberately send our brothers and sisters to their deaths to join our ranks. He meant for _all_ of us to die, and he damn nearly succeeded. _During a Blight._ I will not risk it.”  
“Then what is to become of him?” the Grand Cleric asked patiently.  
“That, would be up to our monarch, wouldn’t it?” I replied and looked at her with a small smile. Anora opened her mouth to speak, but the Grand Cleric shut her up with a sharp gesture.

“Warden Commander Cousland,” the Grand Cleric began gravely, “this country already owes you more than it can ever repay. Your efforts in preparing our country to save the Blight are beyond anything anyone has any right to ask of you. We are _all_ in your debt.” She paused for effect. “The decision is yours, who will rule, and lead us against the Blight?”

I straightened, taking a moment to look around the grand hall.

“Alistair will be King,” I announced.  
“What? No, when did that get decided?” Alistair interrupted.  
“You heard him,” Anora cried just a little too eagerly, “he doesn’t want the throne, he abates in favour of me.” I shook my head.  
“No, Anora. Alistair will be King, and I will rule beside him.” A thunderous roar of applause and cheers shook the grand hall.  
“You lying, traitorous-” Anora began, her face dripping with venomous outrage, but was interrupted by Eamon.  
“Lady Mac Tir, have a care.” She stared at him furiously but held her tongue.

“That only leaves the matter of Loghain’s sentence,” Eamon continued when the cheering had lowered to a manageable volume.  
“Your Majesty,” I said with a slight bow.  
“Loghain Mac Tir,” Alistair said coolly, “for your crimes against Ferelden and its people, I hereby sentence you to die.”  
“No!” Anora shrieked, “no, please! _Please!_ ” Loghain let out a sigh, and a heavy load seemed to drop off his shoulders.  
“Hush, sweetling, it’s alright,” he said calmly.  
“Daddy, no…” she whimpered and sobbed.  
“There is something of Maric in you after all,” Loghain said to Alistair, “he would have been proud.” With that, Loghain bowed his head and Anora started sobbing uncontrollably. Alistair drew his sword, _Maric’s sword, and_ raised it high. Anora closed her eyes and looked away when Alistair swung it down.

I didn’t delight in putting Anora though this. The words I had spoken to my own father when I realised he was going to die came bubbling back to the surface of my conscious.

_We can get you to a healer, we have to try! Please, father! Please, don’t leave us!_

I mentally head slapped myself, this was Loghain. He had given Howe permission to attack Highever and destroy my home and murder my family. He send King Cailan, the Grey Wardens, and hundreds of other men to a battlefield, fully intending to let them be slaughtered there, leaving Ferelden terribly vulnerable to the Blight. He hunted Alistair and me like animals, sold people into slavery, allied himself with blood mages, this was a _monster._

I forced myself to see him as such, Anora’s distress was not mine and I dismissed it. I watched the blood pool on the floor, unaware of the noise around me. Loghain lay dead at my feet, Anora on her knees, sobbing beside him, and Alistair, _King Alistair,_ stood tall.

_One step closer, now we secure his reign and then we kill the Archdemon. We’re nearly there._

Alistair turned to face the grand hall full of frenzied nobles, he shared a quick glance with me.

_Are they always this excited to have blood spilled?_

The answer was, yes. Yes, they are usually excited to see blood spilled, especially when the source of the blood wasn’t well-liked. And Loghain had managed to make himself quite unpopular, even without our help. I gave an apologetic shrug. Eamon gave Alistair an encouraging nod to address the court. At the slight look of panic in Alistair’s eyes, I moved to stand next to him, for moral support.

“So it is decided,” Eamon said, shushing the murmur of the crowd, “Alistair will take his father’s throne. Anora, the Landsmeet has decided against you. You must now swear fealty to our King, and relinquish all claim to the throne for yourself, and your heirs.”  
“No, I will make no such oath to the man who _murdered_ my father!” she snapped.  
“ _Executed,_ would be the correct term,” Teagan said lightly.  
“We cannot leave Ferelden in a state of civil war,” I said calmly, “it’s very simple, Anora, are you going to be a threat?”  
“If she doesn’t swear loyalty to you and renounce her claim to the throne, she remains a threat to us all,” Eamon added sharply.

“You are both right,” Alistair said slowly looking at Anora, “put her in the tower for now, if we fall, she can have her throne. If not, then we’ll see.” Anora turned towards him with an odd expression on her face.  
“You would give me a chance for the throne? After all this?” she asked incredulously.  
“I said, ‘if we fall,’ Anora, _if_ we fall, then the throne falls to you. I’m not killing you while there’s a chance that could happen. One of us needs to think ahead and treat the Blight seriously,” Alistair replied.  
“That… is uncharacteristically wise of you…” Anora replied.  
“Yes, well… don’t let it get around, I have a reputation to maintain,” Alistair said dismissively and turned away from her.

“Very well,” Eamon said with a nod, “guards! Take her away.” Anora left the grand hall between four guards with her head held high. I’d have to make sure someone kept a close eye on her. Make sure she had no contact with anyone outside her confinements, no quill or paper. I stared after her for a while, going over the precautions we would need to take with her. Eamon startled me out of my thoughts.

“Your Highness, would you address the court?” After a brief silence, Alistair remembered the _he_ was now his Highness.  
“Oh, that would be me,” he said slightly embarrassed and stepped forward clearing his throat, “I- never really knew my father,” he began awkwardly, “but from what I understand, what defined him, was his commitment to this land…” he paused, muttering “Maker’s arse,” under his breath.

“Just tell them what to do,” I whispered.

“Right,” he replied and straightened again. He may not have had any practice giving speeches, but he had plenty of practice giving orders over the last year or so.  
“Everyone! Get ready to march! It’s going to take _all_ of our combined strength to survive this Blight. Get ready for the fight of a lifetime,” Alistair turned back to me, “we had better get going, time is running out.”


	52. The First March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the game, everything happens very fast after concluding the Landsmeet. I could do that, surely, but there are a few things that need to be wrapped up and a few transitions to be made. They aren't just leading their little band of armed lunatics anymore, they are at the head of a country now. So here is The First March. Also smut, there is always smut.

We were gathered in Eamon’s office, being briefed on the horde’s movements, and in the middle of planning to flank it.

“We have most of our forces already stationed there, with the nobility finally united, and the kingdom under your command, we have gained a significant army,” Eamon said as he leaned over a map on his desk and moved small, stone discs representing the Dalish elves, the mages, the dwarves, and the horde. Adding a few to represent the armies we had gained in Denerim by kicking Loghain and Anora off the throne.

“Has the Archdemon been sighted yet?” I asked with a slight frown. Eamon shook his head,   
“No sign of it yet, but it’s sure to reveal itself when we start attacking its forces. The horde is marching on Redcliffe as we speak, our scouts have confirmed it, the Archdemon won't be far behind.”

I looked up at Riordan, _would_ the Archdemon show once we attacked? It was no guarantee we would gain the advantage, we had _seen_ the horde, and it was frighteningly enormous. It could overrun Redcliffe by sheer force of number though, and I agreed marching west and flanking the horde seemed like a logical next step with the knowledge our scouts had gained us. But the glaring lack of knowledge about the Archdemon had me anxious. I wasn’t sure we should approach the horde as you would an army, an Archdemon didn’t seem like the kind of general that had a problem with sacrificing soldiers, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be careful. The creature was intelligent, yes, but to assume it was driven by anything we were familiar with… I had my doubts, but saw no need to delay any further when Riordan gave a slight nod.

“Alistair?” I asked, waiting for his opinion.  
“We will march, but we would be fools to leave Denerim vulnerable to an attack. Have Magnus oversee fortifications and preparations. I want ditches in the fields, spikes, barricades, whatever will add to the city’s defences. Have the Lords of the major cities do the same, any place with a large concentration of people needs to be manned, prepared, and protected. Riordan, I’ll need you to inform the leading officers on ogre’s, alpha’s, and emissaries, teach them how to identify them and give them tactics on how to take them down. Make sure you write all of it down so it can be passed along, you are coming with us to Redcliffe. Teagan, you’re in charge of provisioning the city, if we end up in a siege, I want to be prepared. Stack up on anything that’ll keep, fresh water, medical supplies, and organise any healers you can find, apostate or no. If any Templars give you trouble, you tell them you answer only to me and you are organising them on my orders. We can’t afford to forego any help we can get in this fight, whether the Chantry likes it or not. No blood mages though, I don’t want human sacrifices in the streets if and when the horde breaks through the walls. Even people who mean well will resort to the extreme to survive once they see what the horde can do, trust me on this. Oh, and uh, see that any storages are well guarded.”

Teagan, Eamon, and Riordan nodded in agreement.   
“Anything else?” Eamon asked while furiously penning down Alistair’s orders.   
“Tell Magnus we need anyone who can fight, man woman, young, old, if they are strong enough to hold a sword or dagger, they need to be taught to defend themselves, their homes, and families. Any who wants to join the fight are welcome and are to be trained for whatever time we have left.”   
“Yes, of course,” Eamon nodded and kept writing.

“Now, the matter of bringing in outside help,” Alistair began, “Riordan, contact your brothers and sisters in Orlais, the border is no longer closed to them and Maker knows we desperately need their help, late or no. Eamon, I’ll need you to draft a letter to Empress Celene. It’ll be too late to negotiate and bring in her forces now, but she needs to know about this threat. The Archdemon doesn’t care about borders. Send word to every monarch in Thedas. Inform them of what is happening here, and to prepare. If we fall, the rest of Thedas doesn’t need to fall with us.” Eamon smiled.   
“With pleasure, your Highness, this is a great opportunity to make a good first impression.”   
“Don’t invite them, though, we’ll all be far too busy not dying for that,” Alistair added.   
“Of course,” Eamon replied with a nod.   
“We march at first light, get everyone ready,” Alistair concluded, “now, Fela and I have some matters to discuss in our private quarters. You all know your jobs?” He received agreeing nods and replies, offered me his arm, and escorted me back to our quarters.

“Damn,” I said appreciatively when he closed the door behind him. Alistair chuckled.   
“I just might be coming around on this King thing.”   
“Oh, you’re coming around alright,” I said with a wide grin, “that was… so Goddamn hot I have no intention of ‘discussing any matters’ in our quarters with you at this moment.” Alistair laughed.   
“If that’s the reaction I’m going to get every time you think I did a good job, I’m going try a lot harder.”   
“That, is absolutely agreeable,” I replied, “everyone wins.”   
“So let’s get the boring part out of the way,” Alistair said, “you’re back in charge of Highever, you’ll be writing a few letters with instructions of your own.”   
“Already working on it,” I replied.   
“I also need you as an advisor for military strategy,” Alistair continued, “and as ambassador on my behalf for the nobles until I can get to dealing with them myself.”   
“Of course.”   
“Thank you. One more thing,” he replied.   
“Anything,” I said honestly.   
“No matter what happens, we stick together. Where I go, you go. I will not allow myself to be separated from you until all of this is over, alright?” he said earnestly, fear and worry clear behind his eyes. I shared it with him, it had always been likely that one or both of us would die in battle. We knew it, we’d talked about it, and we agreed that, even with all we had done, there was still a very real chance we would not live to see the Archdemon felled. For all we had gotten through in the past year, it was a joke compared to the Archdemon. Even with all our armies, preparations, and allies, it was close to suicidal. But we would stick together.   
“Yes,” I said firmly.

He swept me up and carried the last few steps to our quarters. Kicked the door open, and slammed it closed behind him, kissing me with a ravenous need. Deciding the bed was too far away, he settled for the sofa.

He sat and I moved to straddle him. We had both stripped our armor when we arrived back at the Arl of Redcliffe’s Estate, leaving me free to grind against him while kissing him possessively, my hands cupping the base of his head to tilt it up. His hands worked frantically on the lacing on my tunic before unbuckling my belt and lifting my tunic over my head, dropping my belt to the floor. I let go to lift my arms, and Alistair pulled my breastband off to nuzzle my breasts. I moaned and draped my arms around his shoulders when he gently sucked a nipple, gently rubbing the other with a thumb. I ground against him, the need growing with each stroke. I moved my hands down to get at the lacing of his breeches, pressing my breasts together for him with my arms. One hand moved to cup my ass and squeeze, the other went for the lacing on my leggings.

I stepped back to kick my boots off and shove my leggings down. Alistair did the same, getting rid of his boots and breeches. He gripped my hips to pull me back into his lap. I sat on my knees, my hands on his shoulders and lowered myself onto his cock while he ran his hands along my body, caressing and trailing scars. I took him in with a sigh, felt him twitch, and rolled my hips. We both groaned at the fiction, and settled into a steady rhythm. Alistair guided my hips with his hands, his grip tight enough to bruise. I had my arms draped around his neck, kissing him as I rode him, breasts pressed firmly against his chest.

One hand released its grip on my hip to slap my ass and take a firm hold. I yelped into his mouth and caught his lips again. I pressed myself down on him, taking him in deeper and grinding my hips against his. He groaned against my lips, nipping at my bottom lip. He pressed me down firmer, one hand on my ass and the other around my back, and thrust up as far as he could go and held me there briefly before we started moving again. Faster now, moving together, breathing faster. Alistair’s grip on me tightened, pulling me closer against himself and moving his kisses down my neck.

I drowned in the motions and the sensations Alistair was eliciting from my body. Moaning and mumbling nothing intelligible. One hand tangled in Alistair’s hair, the other digging into his shoulder. Alistair flicked his tongue against the hollow of my throat and nipped at the muscle that ran from my ear to the short end of my collarbone. It send a delicious tingle down my spine and a moan from my lips as I clung onto him. Heat was pooling in my abdomen, and the muscles had started tightening, signalling my climax as we steadily kept building towards it. My movements now urgent, and needy. My body slick with sweat against his. Alistair’s breath was hot on my skin, both of his hands on my ass now, urging me on. I threw my head back, moaning in ecstasy as I ground down on him.

“Oh, yes, love,” Alistair moaned, “like that, _yes!”_ I felt myself clamp around him, tense, and snap. I cried out as I came undone with him, writhing and spasming in his arms. He bit my shoulder as he held on to me, riding out the waves of pleasure.

We slowly rocked to a stop. I leaned my forehead against his shoulder as I caught my breath. Smiling stupidly without even knowing it. Alistair kissed the side of my neck, nuzzling the space just between the back of my ear and hairline. That was one of the best spots, and he had me sighing involuntarily and going limb in his arms. If not for the rapidly cooling sheen of sweat on my naked skin, I could have stayed in his arms like that for hours. I could already feel sleep creeping up on me. After the day we had, it was more than welcome. Alistair seemed to agree, taking me with him as he stood and walked to the bedroom. Laying me gently on the bed, and crawling under the covers with me.

“We are going to make it,” Alistair whispered, “both of us.”   
“I’m holding you to that,” I replied sleepily and snuggled against his side, my head tucked in the curve of his shoulder and neck. I had one arm draped across his chest, and Alistair reached up to entwine his fingers with mine.   
“Good,” he said, “your King commands it.” I chuckled.   
“I do as you command, your Grace.” Alistair burst out giggling.   
“Ok, that’s going to take some getting used to.”   
“Wait till I officially bend the knee in the morning,” I replied suggestively, “you’ll come around.” He chuckled and kissed my forehead.   
“I love you.”   
“I love you too,” I sighed and let myself drift off to sleep.

Early that next morning, in the privacy of our quarters, I bend the knee and swore fealty to Alistair as heir to the Teyrnir of Highever.

Nude, with my mouth around his cock. As a way of saying thank you for reinstating my lands and titles. And, of course, because it was way more fun than doing it the traditional way. Alistair agreed wholeheartedly. Even if we still had to make it official later. But the march to Redcliffe couldn’t wait, and so an _oral_ agreement, get it, would have to suffice for now. Even one made playfully during role-play.

It sufficed for us anyway, and we rode through the gates of Denerim before the sun was fully above the horizon, troops following close behind.

Leaving a large portion of the foot-soldiers to prepare and defend Denerim, we took mostly cavalry with us. It allowed us to make better time, and what better way to flank the horde than with mounted soldiers crashing through their ranks? It also made the frequent attacks easier to handle, as they were mostly executed by infantry led by alpha’s. Not only did we outnumber any attackers, we had an almost unfair advantage as a mounted force.

Wagons with supplies followed a few miles behind, protected and flanked by the foot soldiers that didn’t remain in Denerim. We made for Redcliffe as quickly as we could. The longer we delayed, the more the risks of suffering large losses at Redcliffe increased.

Leliana had taken charge of a small group of experienced scouts, setting up a messenger network between us, the Dalish, Denerim, and Redcliffe. Knowing what was ahead, and the Dalish forces joining ours along the way, _and_ being kept up to date about Denerim’s proceedings with the preparations, kept us quite busy. But it also meant being able to anticipate and calculate. Which in turn led to making good time and suffering barely any losses to our new troops.

I was making my rounds through camp, my cloak wrapped around me tightly against the chill in the air. The Blight did that somehow, where it penetrated the land, it practically froze over. I understood how animals and vegetation died from Blight disease, but how it affected the weather was beyond me. Some kind of magic, I figured. I knew for a fact that areas that had no life in it did not need to be cold. Orlais had a whole desert, complete with salt planes and acid lakes, nothing that I knew of could survive in those conditions. The rest, of what I considered a huge sandbox, had some life, but it was hardly abundant. Still, it wasn't the same. 

Land infected by the Blight didn’t have extravagant amounts of sand, it had snow and ice. And I didn’t see a link between the three, except that they tended to cover things. I was roused from my thoughts when reached a fire where men were sharing stories. They were talking about Alistair and me. So, I kept my hood up and slunk into the shadows cast by the dancing fire to listen. It’s great entertainment, hearing people tell stories about you when they aren’t aware you are listening. Watching them evolve and grow, especially ones you had planted yourself, or whenever you heard something new.

“So, Warden Cousland is facing off this werewolf, right, and now the Blighted thing is speaking. Now, most men with their marbles in one place turn tail and run at such an unnatural thing. Has to be demons, right? Werewolves aren’t supposed to exist, and definitely not supposed to talk. Things like that start happening, you got some nasty magic at work, let me tell you. Which is true, because the curse was created by a blood mage-”   
“That doesn’t come into the story until later!” someone complained, “they didn’t know it was blood magic yet.”   
“Doesn’t matter,” the storyteller snapped, “Cousland sees a talking werewolf and is unafraid. You know why _?”_

_Because she’s a freaking badass, that’s why_.

“Because she knows the mage is keeping secrets!” he continues, “observant lady, she is, can see straight into your soul if you meet her eyes. They say they are the darkest eyes that have ever looked upon the world, but I wouldn’t know, I wouldn’t risk finding out.” I frowned, when had _that_ found it’s way into the world?   
“It’s just charisma!” came another complaining voice, “she’s not a mage, only mages can read minds!”

_Oh god…_ I raised a hand to my forehead and winched.

“Are you telling the story or am I!?” came the storyteller’s voice, he continued when he got no reply, “it’s true, she ain’t no mage. She’s something else entirely. She’s got a drop of demon’s blood you see, just a tiny drop, helps her see the hearts of men.”

_Oh… right… I had almost forgotten about that one._

It had seemed funny at the time, suggesting I had a drop of demon’s blood and that it made me more powerful than normal humans, more intelligent, and insightful. But now, sober, I was coming to regret it. It wouldn’t take much for the Chantry to get suspicious and superstitious. And, regardless of my ego, I _did_ do a few extraordinary things. And raising Alistair to the throne could easily be taken as a grab for power. Which, _technically_ , it was. Just with good intentions and for good reasons.

“So, she meets this talking werewolf and thinks, maybe I can see into this creature’s heart too. And she can, for all the snarling, growling, and drooling, the werewolves truly want the fighting to stop. They’ve been mowing through werewolves like madmen, her and the King. Cutting them down by the bunch like rabid dogs.”

Never mind that the rest of our party was there and that I was still recovering from getting mauled by a werewolf. Which is a lot like getting mauled by a bear but worse.

“Now, Cousland is a strong fighter, and her King a powerful warrior, but that don’t mean they solve everything by killing it. They are clever,” the storyteller taps the side of his nose, “so they go with the werewolves, right, head held high and chest forward. They can smell fear you see, and you should never let them see it. And the werewolves take them to the spirit of the forest. She offers a great reward of power if they lift the curse that made the werewolves what they are. Dark blood magic from ages ago, and those it was meant for are long dead. The ones suffering now, are innocent.” As innocent as a werewolf can be, at least, they still attacked the clan viciously. Even if they were left with no other options.

“See, it’s wisdom that leads to victory, not just the strength of your arm,” the storyteller continued, “by listening to the werewolves, she has uncovered a great injustice and an opportunity for a powerful reward. Not only that, she can still save the people of the Dalish clan. _But_ , a sacrifice must be made…”   
“The life of the blood mage!” someone cried, “they need to kill the blood mage to lift the curse!”   
“No! You dumb sod, _they_ don’t kill the blood mage! They convince him to do the right thing, and _he_ does it himself willingly! See, the ritual that would end the curse can only be done by the blood mage who created it, but, as it is bound by his blood, he will die if he performs it! Now, I can hear you thinking, why would an evil blood mage be willing to give his life to lift the curse he created?” he looked around his audience, waiting for an affirmative response to settle down.

“He wouldn’t. That’s right, because he’s evil. But, Cousland already knows a great many things about this blood mage, she had heard it from the spirit of the forest, the talking tree, and the mad hermit. And that gives her power over him. Her kindness and soft words open many doors, she knows you can accomplish far more with a smile than with a frown. A lesson she has learned from her King, and she’s taken it to heart. She doesn’t threaten the blood mage, she doesn’t hurt or harm him in any way. She reaches out to whatever good is still left in him and convinces him to do the right thing. To do right by his people, and the innocents he’s made to suffer. Because she knows, deep in his heart, he secretly wants to die. Has wanted it for hundreds of years, but couldn’t because he was protecting people he loved. In his own twisted, evil, way.”

The audience sighed reverently, nodding respectfully and quietly waiting for the storyteller to finish his tale.

“When the curse is lifted, the werewolves turn into humans, and the sick elves all get better. So the spirit of the forest bestows upon the two Wardens armour made of ironbark. Light as leather, but strong as steel, enchanted to protect against any curse. It was a great gift indeed, for summoning the power to create the sets of armour drained the last of the good spirit’s power, and it retreated to the Fade. It was no longer needed to guide the werewolves, see, and with the curse lifted, her duty was done. Good spirits are like that, they help and then go back to the Fade.”

The man continued with a story about Fade spirits, and I lost interest. It was good to see the men enjoy a night’s entertainment, something to keep them occupied, and hopefully, inspired. Morale was high, we were making good headway, and would be upon Redcliffe soon.

_Too good to be true,_ came the little voice that had developed since my Joining, _it can’t be this easy._

I looked around once more, things were good for now. I would just have to be watchful, no use fretting about nothing. I sauntered back to the royal encampment, gave Asher a vigorous belly rub, and entered the large tent I shared with Alistair. I found him staring down at several pieces of parchment, just the right size to fit on a raven’s foot when rolled up. I moved to join him behind his desk, one hip resting on the polished wood.

“No sightings?” I asked.   
“None,” he replied, “Riordan has no clue as to its whereabouts either.”   
“I don’t like it,” I said as I twisted to read one of the messages.   
“Neither do I,” he replied, “I’ve send word to look for large concentrations of darkspawn instead. I don’t imagine it alone perched on a mountaintop, it’s out there with its troops.”   
“It’s presence has been… strangely absent lately… You remember what it felt like? The hum to its presence in the back of your mind? It’s weaker, like we’re going the wrong way,” I said while rubbing my temples, the song, where did the song go? Were we cut off somehow? Could that even happen?   
“Now that you mention it,” Alistair said, cocking his head and searching for the eerie song that had been with us since the Deep Roads, “I have been consciously filtering it out.”   
“It was weaker when we came back to the surface from Orzammar for a while too, but then… somewhere between the Dalish and going back to Redcliffe, it got stronger again,” I said thoughtfully.   
“You think it could indicate how close we are to the Archdemon?” he asked.   
“I don’t know, maybe? The song was like the pulses I get from individual darkspawn when I single them out through the Taint, it would make sense that the pulses from the Archdemon are somewhat more elaborate,” I replied and frowned, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

“We’ve had word from Denerim, they’ve encountered the occasional darkspawn while building fortifications and defences around the city, but no sign of the horde,” Alistair surmised. I gave a nod.   
“Let’s stick to the plan then… We can’t abandon Redcliffe.”

_At_ _this_ _point_.

“I do love it when you two talk shop,” Zevran stepped in with what looked like a bottle of Antivan brandy, “so dark and mysterious.” Alistair sighed.   
“Do you _ever_ not eavesdrop on us?”   
“At least this time ye’re not balls deep in your wife to be,” came Oghren’s slur, following close behind Zevran, carrying another bottle. Alistair blushed and glanced at the guards near the entrance of our tent, they shared no sign of having overheard what Oghren said. That didn’t mean they didn’t hear it though, and I chuckled behind my hand.

“You got a bun in the oven yet, or what, with all that humping,” he rumbled and sat down in one of the pillowed chairs.   
“Are you calling me fat?” I asked with narrowed eyes.   
“That’s quite enough, Oghren, thank you,” Alistair said curtly.   
“A timely save, mi amigo corto, though you should probably sleep with one eye open for a while,” Zevran said with a smile and popped the cork on his bottle.

“What are we doing?” I asked and joined my well-inebriated friends in the stuffed chairs arranged around a fire.   
“We never got to celebrate your success in the Landsmeet,” Zevran said jovially, “the girls and Sten should be here soon.” He poured a glass of brandy and held it out to me before doing the same for Alistair.

“To taking your slice of the pie,” he said, raising his own glass and drank.   
“To playing Anora,” came Leliana’s voice, she was followed by Shale and Wynne, carrying her lute.   
“To outplaying them all,” Wynne added, her cheeks slightly red from probably a fair amount of wine. She’d be fine in the morning, that lady had _no_ hangovers, ever.

It’s ridiculous.

I smiled and raised my glass to them again after Zevran refilled it. Sten stepped in as I downed my drink, followed by Asher, who was dragging Morrigan forward by the hem of her robes. Sten sat cross-legged on the ground, accepting a drink from Zevran, and petting Asher after he flopped down next to the large Qunari. Morrigan took a chair.

“So,” Leliana said and rubbed her hands together, “who has any good new gossip to share?”   
“I just heard a new version of what happened in the Brecillian Forest,” I offered.   
“Do you have demon’s blood in it?” she asked.   
“Yes, I do,” I replied and she laughed.   
“Do tell!” she said eagerly and set about tuning her lute.

“I have one too,” Sten said, and I looked at him with my eyebrows arched up.   
“Tell us!” I encouraged. I was curious to see what the big man-mountain had considered interesting enough to warrant retelling around a fire.   
“It’s about your Mabari, solving a mystery,” Sten said and gave one of his rare smiles. I laughed out loud.   
“Ooh, that’s awesome, I have to hear that,” Alistair said enthusiastically.

And Sten started telling his tale in a surprisingly animated manner. I retold the story I’d heard earlier that night, and Wynne shared one where Alistair took out not one, but _four_ pride demons. And it wasn’t at the Circle Tower, but at the Tower of Ishal. Zevran told one about us killing Flemeth the Shape Shifter and me having _dragon’s blood_ rather than demon blood. Apparently, in that story, Flemeth regrew two new heads every time we cut one off and we ended up cutting off so many heads, and causing her to regrow double that amount, that she couldn’t lift herself off the ground anymore and we cut her heart out. Wynne shared another one where Alistair heroically saved my life from crazy cultists who were planning some dark ritual to summon the demon that had given me a drop of its blood. We laughed at how out of hand some stories had gotten, trying to find the bones of the tales that we had so carefully spread. It was an evening full of laughter, friendship, and strong tales. But there was an undertone, a frighteningly sober one.

_Tomorrow evening, some of us might be dead._

We drowned that undertone, enjoying one last evening among friends. Free of the sorrow and grief that was to come. Before the sounds of metal on metal were deafening, before bodies started dropping to the ground in a steady rhythm. Before the Archdemon roared it’s terrible shriek and destroyed everything in its path. Before the smell of burning flesh filled our nostrils and the screams echoed endlessly in our minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "mi amigo corto,"  
> "my short friend,"


	53. The Siege of Redcliffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The army reaches Redcliffe. Fela and Alistair get some shitty news from Riordan. Enter Morrigan. Followed by smut, to make up for it.

“Go! We’ll handle the ogre!” I shouted at the mounted knights, led by Riordan, in front of me as I turned my horse and cut down another hurlock.

“Fela!” I heard Alistair call.   
“I got it!” I growled and rode down an emissary before steering my horse toward the ogre. I moved to crouch in the saddle, holding the reins with one hand and holding a rapier in the other. I send the horse charging past the ogre and jumped from the saddle, leaping at the back of the ogre’s neck while it was busy wrestling Shale. I slammed one rapier down in the space just above its collarbone and held on, twisting the blade deeper into it’s flesh while it shook in an effort to throw me off. I reached for my other rapier, still strapped to my back and jammed it into the creature’s thick neck, perforating its windpipe. Some twisting and jabbing maximised the damage. It spat blood as it roared and gurgled before sinking to its knees.

I pulled both blades free to clamper onto Shale before the ogre went down. I whistled as she put me down and I sprinted towards my approaching horse, hopped on and galloped after Alistair who was mowing down darkspawn in the town square.

Our soldiers had held well, had managed to evacuate the town to the castle. But the sheer numbers and the constant attacks from new waves of darkspawn had forced them to retreat and dig in, rather than attack. If darkspawn tired, I had never heard of it. But men did, and the fight had lasted for days for them. Our arrival gained them some much needed respite from fighting darkspawn non-stop.

“Head for the castle!” Alistair shouted, and I followed. Morrigan skittered ahead in the form of a giant spider, Leliana, Zevran, and Wynne followed a little behind, providing cover fire and support. I raced past Alistair and Morrigan, mowed down another genlock and crossed the draw bridge. I burst through the gates, spotting two emissaries further down the courtyard.

I spurred my horse and charged, pressing my body close to the horse’s neck and making myself a smaller target as the emissary shot bolts of electricity at me. One low swipe, and the first emissary went down. I pulled the horse to an abrupt stop and turned. It’s front hooves hit a genlock as we reared, trampling it, and charging after the next emissary.

Morrigan beat me to it, leaping onto the emissary while it was in the middle of casting a spell and sinking her fangs into its neck. She cast a web at a charging hurlock and skittered onto the castle wall where she resumed her human form to start casting spells. I had redirected my horse to charge a small group of genlocks with bows. Morrigan’s misdirection hex kept them from turning me and my horse into fast moving pin-cushions. They scattered at my approach, and I mowed down two of them before jumping off the horse and into the fray.

Spin with blades extended, lower to the ground, continue movement and lash out with a low kick. Move up, sweep kick, thrust left, swipe right, turn and swipe again. I let my body go through the familiar movements on its own, cutting down my enemies as fast as I could to control the numbers. Alistair was to my left, fighting a hurlock alpha. Wynne and Leliana were at the gate, and Zevran had switched his bow for his daggers and joined the hacking and slashing. Shale was outside the gate with Oghren, Asher, and Sten, keeping more darkspawn from pouring into the courtyard while our troops razed the town and cut off the darkspawn forces. So far our assault was a success, and the steady stream of darkspawn swarming the town was slowly being reduced to a manageable trickle. Unfortunately, that trickle included two ogres and an ogre alpha accompanied by shrieks, to make it a real party.

“Argh! Filthy nug humper!” Oghren roared as he swiped at one of the ogre’s legs in front of him. The height distance often being a problem for the dwarf. He lodged his axe into the creature’s knee and it howled a terrible roaring sound. The ogre went down on one knee, and grabbed at Oghren who as trying to pull his axe free from a ton of bone, muscle, and sinew. It grabbed Oghren around his rump and flung him at the castle wall and out of sight.

Sten leapt at the kneeling ogre with Ashala held high, plunging her into the ogre’s back. The ogre shook to get rid of Sten, who was determined to hold on until he gained his footing on the ogre’s writhing form, and used his leverage to pull Ashala out. The force of his pull send him back in a slight arch, and Sten landed far too lightly for a man his size before storming the kneeling ogre again as it struggled to get up. He lashed at its arm to make it buck and cause the ogre to lower its head enough for Sten to swing Ashala at its neck. The force of the blow was not enough to cut through the ogre’s massive neck, and Sten raised his sword again for a second blow. Oghren beat him to it, he had staggered to his feet, retrieved his axe, and delivered the killing blow.   
“Thanks mate,” Oghren panted.   
“Don’t mention it,” Sten replied.

Meanwhile Shale had been wrestling the other ogre while Wynne and Morrigan blasted it with ice, lightning, and fire. Morrigan also threw in the occasional spirit bomb on the shrieks that kept Alistair, Asher, Zevran, and me busy. Leliana was busy keeping shrieks off Wynne while they moved along the castle wall, their backs turned at the stone. That left the alpha ogre free to charge into the courtyard, where Zevran, Alistair, Asher, and me were scattered and vulnerable. Alistair rolled out of the way of its charge just in time, got to his feet and cut a shriek along its front before bashing it with his shield. He turned and engaged the alpha ogre, ducking under a wildly swung fist and slicing at the creature’s knees. Another slice to its side as Alistair moved around it and rolled again to evade a fist.

I ran one of my rapiers though a shriek while slicing at another, and sprinted towards Alistair, facing off the alpha ogre alone. I leapt forward and ducked my head, going into a roll to evade a set of claws from a shriek as I moved past. I heard a familiar crackling when the creature was hit by Morrigan’s spirit bomb spell and dashed forward. The spell would take care of it and I didn’t want to be near it when it did. The explosion set bits of bone and meat flying as the force of it swept through the courtyard. She followed it up with a paralysation spell, allowing Alistair and me to attack viciously before the ogre broke his paralysis. Morrigan and Zevran focussed on keeping the shrieks off us while we took down the alpha ogre. It wasn’t our first dance with one of these, thanks to the Deep Roads.

Alistair thrust his sword into the ogre’s abdomen while I shredded the backs of its knees. It fell to its knees as the spell gave out and Alistair got to work on the arms while I climbed onto its back. No easy job, this ogre was a lot bigger, the muscles thicker, and the skin tougher. On top of that, it wore a crude chest plate, bracers, and leg guards. So, as I used my rapiers as anchors to hoist myself up, I took care to cut through the leather straps that held the chest plate in place. It didn’t fully slide off immediately, still fastened to the other shoulder. But it exposed some of its chest and the dangling piece of armor hampered its movements. One rapier lodged behind a shoulder blade, I drove the other between the ribs just beneath its armpit where the chest plate would have protected it, pushing it in to the hilt in hopes of puncturing the heart, as well as ruin its lungs. I pulled the rapier back, struggling to get it out as I twisted and jerked it. The alpha flailed wildly, trying to get me off and stop me from shredding the inside of its ribcage. I held on for dear life, keeping its attention on trying to throw me while giving Alistair the opportunity to move in close. He hacked at the ogre’s neck, now within reach, furiously. It started to go down, falling facedown in the ground.

I hopped off, and set my foot against the dying creature’s side to finally yank my rapier free. Blood flowed freely from the creature’s mouth as it gurgled and choked. One last twitch of its arm knocked me over flat, but didn’t do any real damage. I rolled to my feet to parry a shriek while Alistair mowed down another. All ogres were down now, and seeing Wynne and Sten in the courtyard told me there were no more darkspawn approaching from the village. We made short work of the last remaining shrieks.

* * *

I sat down on the steps leading up to the castle, panting. Grey Warden stamina or no, we’d fought a long and hard battle. I had a moment to look around now, bodies littered the courtyard, dwarves, elves, humans, and darkspawn. Though the latter stacked much higher.

“Are you ok?” I asked when I saw Alistair approach. His armor looked more red than silverite by now, and from his movements I could tell he was tired too.   
“Yeah,” he said and sat down next to me, looking around at our companions, “you?”   
“I’m fine.” Wynne was trying to get it through to Oghren that he had to keep still, Oghren complained that it tickled when she healed him and let out bursts of laughter whenever she tried. Eventually she settled for a health potion. Dwarves being resistant to magic anyway. Morrigan was patching herself up, she had sustained some injuries to her arms and legs while in the form of a giant spider, hence why she went up the castle wall where she’d be safer. Leliana, Zevran, Asher, Sten, Alistair, and me, were reasonably fine, if tired. Alistair offered me a waterskin, which I took gratefully. I took a few good gulps and offered it back to Alistair, who did the same.

“I wish this were wine,” he said absently. I nodded and took the waterskin from him again.  
“Fuck this fucking Blight,” I muttered under my breath. Good men had died today, for something that shouldn’t have happened in the first place.   
“You said it,” Alistair replied blandly and taking another sip from the waterskin. I chuckled bitterly at his dry response.   
“Think it’ll get easier?” he asked. I shook my head.   
“Afraid not, but we get better at dealing with it, I think.”   
“I don’t think I really want to get better at it, I’d rather people just stop dying,” he answered, staring at the gate where a messenger was speaking with Leliana.   
“Yeah, me too,” I mumbled, staring at my boots.

We both startled when the doors to the castle behind us opened, and First Enchanter Irving stepped out.

“Maker’s breath Wardens,” he said with an exhausted sigh, “am I glad to see you.”   
“Good to see you’re alright, Irving,” Alistair replied, “how are your mages doing?”   
“Several casualties, I’m afraid, four dead, eleven more wounded. Our healers are working around the clock, the dwarves have suffered far more losses. As have the Redcliffe soldiers.” It may not have sounded as much, but if you take into account there were very few able mages currently with the Circle, around fifty or so, and that was including children older than fifteen and some Orlesian mages that Magnus had smuggled in, it was a lot. It meant that about a quarter of his people were currently unable to fight. Leliana greeted Irving warmly before tuning to Alistair and me.

“Urgent news from Denerim,” she said breathlessly, “the attack on Redcliffe was a diversion, the bulk of the horde is marching on Denerim, with the Archdemon at the head.”

_Fuck!_

“Oh for _fuck’s sake,”_ Alistair said grimly, “tell everyone to get ready to march on Denerim. I doubt we’ll make it in time but perhaps if we send a smaller mounted contingent ahead, we can buy them some time until we get there.”

_That fucking Archdemon!_

“Get moving,” Alistair said and made his way over to our other companions to inform them of the news. I got up gingerly, sighed, cursed, and went looking for my horse.

We decided to rest in Redcliffe for one night, sending Riordan ahead with half of whoever was well enough for hard riding and an even harder battle, and then order a forced march to Denerim the next day. My companions and I stayed in the castle, where we would at least be able to have one last bath and a soft bed to sleep in after a good meal. It was some sort of stew with potatoes, onions, carrots, and beef. A good, hearty meal, along with some bread, cheese, and dried sausages. The staff in Redcliffe was used to the Grey Warden appetite by now. We had dinner in the great hall, surrounded by townspeople. While it was kind of nice, it was far too crowded for me and I was almost relieved when Riordan asked to speak to Alistair and me in his quarters before he left.

Almost.

“You think this is about Grey Wardens being King again?” Alistair muttered under his breath as we made our way down the hall to the guest quarters.   
“Don’t know,” I whispered, “he seemed particularly grim though, so it’s probably nothing good.”   
“When is it ever,” Alistair replied with a sigh, “on a scale from nug to Archdemon, where do you think we are?”   
“Definitely somewhere in the big, dragony regions,” I replied, “his jaw was stiff.”   
“That tells you it’s bad?” Alistair asked.   
“Amongst other things, it’s a little like music. Several particulars give me information, like instruments playing notes, and together they make a tune. Sometimes only one or two are playing, sometimes there is a bunch of them. But they can play any tune, you just need to listen,” I explained, then frowned, “that isn’t making any sense, is it?”   
“No, it kind of makes sense,” Alistair replies, “Ï can see how that applies to reading people.” Huh, point for me.

Alistair knocked on Riordan’s door, and received an invitation to enter in reply. We entered silently and I pulled the door closed behind me.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Riordan said and stood to poor three glasses of brandy.   
“Have a seat,” he said courteously as he handed us both a glass.   
“I regret the way we left things last time we spoke, Warden Commander Cousland. I respect everything you have done in your efforts against the Blight.”   
“Thank you, Riordan,” I said as I accepted the glass he held out to me, “I know you meant well.”   
“We didn’t get to it during our last conversation, but there is something else I need to talk to you about,” he started looking down at the drink in his hand.   
“Alright,” Alistair said, “what is it?”

“It had not occurred to me to ask at first, but at the Landsmeet… Let me start with this, how much has Duncan told you about slaying an Archdemon?” Riordan said carefully. Alistair and I shared a look.   
“What do you mean? Like, do we cut its head off?” Alistair said with a confused gesture.   
“So you _don’t_ know,” Riordan said quietly and downed his drink in one gulp.   
“Why don’t you just explain how one slays an Archdemon,” I suggested, studying Riordan with a cautious eye. He sighed, and refilled his drink.

“Do you know why a Grey Warden is needed to slay the Archdemon?” Riordan started.   
“Because of the Taint?” I guessed, “that’s the point of the Taint, right? The connection it gives us.”   
“You are correct,” Riordan said with a nod.   
“So what is it about the Taint that you need it to slay the Archdemon?” I asked.

“When an Archdemon is slain, its soul will seek out the nearest blighted creature. If that happens to be darkspawn, soulless vessels, the Archdemon will take its body and be reborn. Thus, it cannot die,” he explained.

_Oh, fuck. No, no, no, no, don’t say it!_

“However, if it is a Grey Warden who slays the Archdemon, it will be attracted to the Grey Warden above all else, it being the nearest Blighted creature.”

_Goddamnit, fuck!_

“But a Grey Warden has a soul, can it take over a body with a soul in it?” Alistair said.

_Don’t you fucking say it, Riordan! Don’t_ fucking _say it!_

“We do, so, as the soul of the Old God is drawn to us, it is destroyed,” Riordan replied.   
“And what happens to the soul of the Grey Warden that slays it?” Alistair asked, mostly rhetorically.   
“It shatters,” Riordan confirmed.

“ _Goddamnit_ ,” I said, downed my drink and flung the empty glass into the hearth, it made the fire flare in a most satisfying way.   
“So, despite our armies, only three people can actually kill that Fade-fucked monster, us three,” I pointed at each of us, “being the lucky bastards who probably get to be eaten.” Well, maybe four if we count Avernus, but he’s really old.   
“Best case scenario, only one of us dies when the Archdemon is slain, worst…” I made a sharp gesture, I reached for a new glass, poured myself more brandy and downed it at once.   
“For _fuck’s sake…”_ I muttered, staring at the ground.

“Traditionally, the senior Grey Wardens pick one from their ranks to deliver the killing blow. As the oldest, that task falls to me, the Taint won’t spare me much longer,” Riordan said, somewhat reassuringly.   
“But if _you_ fall…” Alistair muttered.   
“Yeah,” I answered, “we’re fucked. Anora is happy, but _we’re_ fucked.” Now I saw why he wanted to put Loghain through the Joining, I definitely would have ordered him to take the killing blow, just for the poetry of it. I stood by my decision though, Loghain had to die. Alistair never would have been able to put it to rest if I had spared him, not without knowing we could use him as a human sacrifice at the time. A dick move that may be, but it was a romantic one.

“This is a lot for you two to take in,” Riordan said gently, “I’m sorry you had to find out from me.”   
“Yeah, uh,” Alistair began with a sigh, “this is…” he shook his head instead of trying to come up with a word and made a dismissive gesture. I scowled into my glass.

_Does_ everything have _to be so goddamn hard!? Can’t we catch a fucking break? Maker’s blood, we have given this Blight all we had over the past year, now it demands at least one of our lives!? Fuck this! Fuck this country! Fuck the Archdemon! Fuck this fucking Blight! And fuck the_ fucking _Maker!_ I stood.

“I need some air,” I said, putting down my glass a little too forcefully. It shattered between my fingers, cutting into my skin.   
“I’m fine,” I said before Alistair or Riordan could open their mouths, clutching my bloodied hand to my chest, “I’ll go see Wynne.” I practically fled the room.

_The walls are closing in._

My breathing started coming in quick shallow bursts and my heart hammered like mad in my chest. I walked down the hall at a brisk pace, snatched my cloak from our quarters and made my way outside and onto the castle wall.

I stood watching out over the military encampment, breathed in deeply through my nose, and out through my mouth.

_Easy now, panicking doesn’t get you anywhere._ In through my nose, out through my mouth. _Getting really fucking pissed might help, though._

I looked down at my hand under the light of a torch. A shard of glass glimmered in the flickering light. I pulled it out and flung it away from me. Glad for the opportunity to throw something. I reached for a rapier with my good hand when I saw movement from the corner of my eye. A black cat, with familiar glowing golden eyes. She shifted into the form of my favourite apostate.

“Fear not,” Morrigan said with raised hands, “’tis only I.”   
“Hey Morrigan,” I said with a sigh and leaned on the castle wall.   
“Are you hurt?” she asked, noticing the blood on my hand and stepped into the light of the torch.   
“Only a little,” I replied, “broke a glass.”   
“Let me see,” she reached out and took my hand in hers. A soft light shone through her fingers and I felt the pain of the cuts ebb away.   
“Thank you,” I said when she released my hand.   
“No trouble,” she said and looked out over the military encampment as I did. We stood in silence for a while, gazing at the lights cast by torches and campfires.

“So, this is it then?” I asked.   
“What do you mean?” Morrigan replied, slightly taken aback.   
“It just feels like this is your moment,” I said with a shrug, “when you finally tell me what it is you are after.”   
“I like to think I am here because I am your friend,” Morrigan said defensively.   
“You are, I know that,” I said soothingly, “but we both know that happened along the way, it’s ok, I don’t hold it against you.”   
“You seem oddly indifferent about that,” she replied.   
“If I do, it’s because I was just told that an Archdemon can only be slain by a Grey Warden, and that said Warden dies in the progress,” I explained, “everything else doesn’t seem like such a big deal right now in comparison.”   
“That… makes sense,” Morrigan said, if looking slightly puzzled.

I waited for her to begin speaking, Morrigan needed to be given her time with these things. They weren’t easy for her.

“What if I told you there was another way,” Morrigan said quietly.   
“I would say, please tell me more,” I replied.   
“There is a loophole,” Morrigan began, “a way out. When the Archdemon dies, its soul needs to go somewhere, that does not change.”   
“So, if it’s not going into a darkspawn or Grey Warden, where does it go?”   
“There is a ritual, it will need to be performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night, with one who bears the Taint.” She took a deep breath.   
“From this ritual, will come a child. When the Archdemon dies and the soul of the Old God is released, it will seek out this child, like a beacon.”

“What will happen to it? To the baby?”   
“The babe, if it can be called that at such an early stage, will not be harmed. There will not yet be a soul to be destroyed, and instead, the child will come to possess the soul of the Old God.” I bit my lip in thought.   
“Will the child be hurt?” I asked tentatively.   
“No,” Morrigan said reassuringly, “in these early stages, there is no body to hurt, and no ‘life,’ as such, to be taken.”   
“Would… would the child be…”   
“Evil?” Morrigan said tartly, “no more than any other child born to this world.”

It sounded like a good deal, the baby wouldn’t be hurt, nobody had to sacrifice themselves, and we could still end the Blight. But a child didn’t come from nowhere.   
“And the mother… would be you?” I asked. Morrigan nodded.   
“Could it… be me?” I already knew the answer, but I had to ask it anyway. Morrigan shook her head.   
“No, it would have to be me.”   
“And the father?”   
“There is only one who has been a Grey Warden shortly enough to still be fertile,” Morrigan said, with a distasteful frown upon her beautiful face. I sighed.

_Of course, it had to be… Odds are, he won’t be able to have any children with me, but_ Morrigan, _of all people, would carry his bastard._

I ran a hand through my hair and groaned.   
“So Alistair knocks you up, and then what? You’re not going to sit around in Denerim to let us adopt him, are you?” Morrigan shook her head again.   
“That is all I ask, the child would be mine to raise. I will leave, after the Archdemon has been slain, and you must not follow me.” I frowned and nodded.   
“I figured, so what do you want with the soul of an Old God? Surely you’d not be here proposing this if you simply felt the urge to procreate.”   
“You are right to ask me that question,” Morrigan said quietly, “but I will not answer it.”   
“So I’ll just have to trust you,” I replied softly.   
“Is it not worth a chance of survival? What if Riordan fails? It will fall to one of you,” Morrigan replied.   
“It is, he will, and it will,” I replied bluntly. Morrigan looked at me with raised eyebrow, eyes slightly widened.   
“You sound very certain.”   
“Just a gut feeling…” I replied darkly.

“So, you consent to this?” Morrigan asked, slightly bewildered.   
“I do, you have my blessing to have sex with my betrothed as a means to conceive a child that will keep us from dying when the Archdemon dies,” I surmised curtly. Morrigan frowned and looked at me inquisitively.   
“No moral objections? No inner conflict, no heavy weight upon your conscious?” she asked in a puzzled tone.   
“Morrigan, I tried really hard to make the right choices, I did all I could and gave all I had, and I’m still fucked. If this loophole of yours is slightly dubious, I’m beyond giving a shit if it gives me a chance at a life with Alistair after all of this,” I said unapologetically, “it also happens, Ferelden needs its King, and I promised him I would make it, King’s orders. Just promise me the child will be well cared for. That you’ll be its mom, not just the woman who carried it in her womb.” There was something unreadable in Morrigan’s golden eyes for a moment. Something… uncertain, but willing.   
“I will care for this child, and be its mother….”

“Will you kiss the booboos and hold it when it cries?” I asked with a sideways glance to gauge Morrigan’s reaction. Even in the middle of all this bullshit, I appreciated the priceless look on her face.   
“I will kiss what?” she asked incredulously.   
“The booboos,” I said in a tone that said anyone knew what booboos were, “kiss it and make it better.”   
“Kiss it and then… heal it? Quiet toying with me, Warden,” Morrigan snapped impatiently. I let out a snicker.

“Booboos are little hurts, like a scraped knee or a head banged into the bottom side of the table.”   
“Ah…” Morrigan said uncertainly, not sure if I was just making light of something as serious as dying from killing an Archdemon and conceiving a child to prevent that from happening, or had really lost it.   
“I’m messing with you,” I said reassuringly, “I just want to know the child will be cared for, _truly_ cared for, not just fed, changed, and kept warm. Alistair will ask you the same thing.” She nodded.   
“I can see him worrying about what I would do with such a child. At least he is not fool enough to believe everything will be as simple as ejaculating and surviving.”

I burst out in hysterical laughter, bent at the waist and my head resting on my arms atop the castle wall, snickering and snorting hysterically. It turned quite a few heads as soldiers patrolled the walls and castle grounds, I gave them a wave as a greeting and to let them know everything was ok. Morrigan had just broken the severity of our situation in a hilarious way, reducing our loophole to a load of cum, and she didn’t even know it. She stared at me first in horror, then confusion, and finally, one corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Thought that was funny did you?” she said and relaxed against the castle wall while I was laughing it out and trying to compose myself.   
“I needed that,” I said with a sigh and a snort, “not enough good laughs to counteract the bullshit these days.” I took a few deep breaths to steady myself.

“There is still the matter of convincing Alistair,” Morrigan said hesitantly.   
“I’ll talk to him, but, I cannot make this choice for him. I want you to realise that, if he refuses, that is his choice. I would gladly bed and impregnate you if it meant we had a chance at survival, but I lack the appropriate parts. And I will not force Alistair to do so,” I replied. Morrigan looked at me with a mixture of confusion and amusement,   
“If that was an option…” she replied with a smirk, “no matter, speak to him, then come find me. I will be in my chambers.” She shifted back into the form of a cat, and stalked off into the night. I looked back out over the military encampment again, and sighed.

_What the fuuuuuck… One minute we’re absolutely doomed, and the next… we’re still pretty fucking doomed, but maybe not all_ that _doomed._

* * *

I entered our quarters quietly, finding Alistair in front of the fire.   
“There you are,” he said as he rose, “I was getting worried.”   
“I just went for a walk… to cool off,” I said and crossing the room to kiss him.   
“Yeah,” Alistair sighed as the kiss broke, resting his hands on my hips, “I get that… After hearing what Riordan had to say…”

Alright, let’s get right into that.

“Alistair,” I began, resting my hands on his chest, “about that. Riordan said he’d take the final blow, what if he doesn’t live to take it?” Alistair held my gaze for a moment, struggling with wanting to believe Riordan would take the blow and everything would be alright, and knowing that counting on _one_ man we barely knew to survive the coming battle and live to kill the Archdemon was terribly naïve.   
“It will fall to us…” he finally said, “to me.”   
“Or me,” I said impatiently, angry at him for accepting that fate seemingly so easily, “but that’s not the discussion I want to have.” Alistair cocked his head.   
“We _should_ be.”

"Ok, wait, back up, let me start over. Let’s say, Riordan doesn’t make it, he dies before the Archdemon does and it fall to us to kill that thing. One of us will die,” Alistair opened his mouth to respond but I stopped him by holding my fingers to his lips.   
“I know, I know, but just hold on for a moment. What if I told you there was another way? So nobody has to die?”

Alistair stepped back a little, looking confused.   
“You say there is a way out?” he asked I nodded.   
“What about Riordan, does he know?” he continued, I shook my head.   
“So how did you… find another way?”   
“ _It_ came to _me_ ,” I said quietly, “or rather, she, did.”   
“What do you mean?” Alistair said with a shake of his head.

“You know I love you, right?” I asked and reaching out to take one of his hands.   
“Can you make it sound any more ominous? Just tell me already,” he urged. I sighed.   
“There is a ritual, that will… create a child. When the Archdemon is slain, the soul of the Old God will not seek out darkspawn or a Grey Warden. It will seek out the child instead, and the baby will be born with the soul of the Old God. It won’t be hurt, because there won’t really be anything to hurt, the ritual needs to be performed on the eve of battle, so the child wouldn’t have started forming yet.” Alistair frowned, deeply.

“Are you serious?” he asked, “because if it’s a joke it’s a bad one.”   
“No, I am quite serious,” I said apologetically.

Alistair ran a hand through his hair nervously.   
“Ok, give me the details, I at least want to know what is being offered.”   
“Riordan has been tainted for too long, and will likely not be fertile anymore. But you…” a light went up in Alistair’s eyes as I spoke, “you, most likely still are. So you would be the one to take part in the ritual…”   
“Alright, go on,” he encouraged.   
“The other one to take part in the ritual… would be Morrigan,” the light in Alistair’s eyes flickered and his face twisted to disgust, “as she would be performing it.” We stared at each other in uncomfortable silence for a moment. To say Alistair disliked Morrigan, would be a huge understatement, even though they had managed to find a way to work and fight alongside each other. And she would carry his baby, be the mother of what might be his only child. This was the point where the horror at that realisation could turn into outright refusal, but it would probably cost at least one of our lives.

Alistair let out a baffled laugh and ran a hand over his face.   
“Have sex with Morrigan, make a demon baby…”   
“I know, crazy, right?” I said I said with a slightly pained smile. Alistair walked over to the table and poured himself a glass of wine. Downed it, then poured himself another.   
“So, the cost of not dying when the Archdemon is slain, is knocking up a hateful bitch in some magical sex rite,” he said slowly, “and you are ok with this, you are _asking_ me to do this?” he asked, sounding surprisingly calm. I nodded.

“It won’t _really_ be a demon baby, will it?” he asked cautiously.   
“No, it’ll be just a baby. No different than any other child born into this world. His soul just happens to be that of an Old God, uncorrupted,” I replied. He groaned.   
“I’m not even sure if I can…. get off, with _her._ ”   
“Well… at least she’s gorgeous,” I said with a little shrug.   
“She’s not you,” Alistair replied.   
“Neither was Isabella,” I replied gently, “Alistair, I hate to ask this of you, I know you don’t want to and I wish it were different. But if Riordan falls, you and I both know we’ll be racing to get the killing blow to save each other. I don’t want to be put into that position, where it’s either you or me. I can’t let you die, Alistair.”   
“Nor I you…” he whispered and sighed dejectedly, “for you. I will do this for you.” He downed his remaining wine and groaned, “let’s find her and get it over with then, before I lose my nerve.”

I crossed the room and took his hand.   
“I love you, just remember that.” He pulled me into an embrace.   
“And I love you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”   
“I know,” I replied, “I trust you.”   
“I trust you enough to let you whore me out,” Alistair said with a small smile, “I’ll close my eyes and think of you.” I chuckled.   
“If you wish, but feel free to imagine whatever you want if it helps.”   
“It won’t change anything between us? If I… do… what you asked me to do…” he asked shyly. I shook my head.   
“No my love, I’ll still be here.”

“What about the baby? If it… if I…” he groaned something unintelligible.   
“Won’t change anything about how I feel, I want to marry you, and have kids, and be a family. And if your… firstborn, ever comes to us, I’ll gladly receive him with open arms. Because he came from you, and I would love him as my own. I don’t give a shit what the rest of the world thinks, I just want my life with you, magical sex rites and demon babies, and all,” I said firmly. Alistair closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.   
“Alright then, come on.”

* * *

I was pacing like a caged animal in front of the hearth.

I had never really been one for jealousy. I wasn’t worried Alistair would like Morrigan better and magically fall in love with her. But knowing they were just down the hall, Alistair’s response to the offer, I felt like the biggest ass in Ferelden.

Had I just forced the man I loved into having sex with a woman he hated? Was he being taken advantage off? Used against his will? How could I have _asked_ such a thing!? But he consented of his own will, didn’t he? Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned we would probably both be racing to kill the Archdemon.

‘Sleep with the witch or I will die for you.’ That doesn’t sound like emotional blackmail at _all!_ Maker’s arse. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

What did I send him into? I knew what it was like when someone wanted to take what you weren’t willing to give, had even suffered violence for it, and now… I snatched Alistair’s wine bottle and took a few deep gulps.

No, jealousy wasn’t really one of my problems, _guilt_ was. I kicked at a chair in frustration, sending it clattering across the room. Let out an annoyed sigh at the noise, and moved to pick the chair up.

_Save breaking stuff for when we reach Denerim._

I kept pacing. Maybe I should go get some fresh air? But I wanted to be there when Alistair came back. What would he think if he came in and I wasn’t there? Or maybe… it would be a good thing, that he be alone for a while… Should I ask for a bath to be drawn? Andraste’s tits… I was totally and completely at a loss. I sat down in the chair I kicked about sullenly. Fucking Blight, Fucking Archdemon, and fucking Old Gods… Fucking Tevinter Magisters busting into the Golden City, or whatever it was that brought on the first Blight. Assholes, the lot of them. I went right back to being angry at the world, useless as it was.

_The Archdemon put us in this position, now we can kill that motherfucker without dying with it. This,_ this, _is why I refuse to believe in a Maker. Because if there is some intelligence behind this all, it’s fucked in the head._ I stood, called a servant to ask for a bath to be drawn, just to be sure, and went back to pacing. 

It seemed like an eternity before Alistair came back into the room. He stood there for a while, silent, looking at nothing in particular.

“Are you ok?” I asked tentatively, unsure if I should approach him, touch him, comfort him.   
“Yeah, uh, I’m fine, I think,” he said and ran a hand through his hair.   
“I think it… worked, or whatever,” he said quietly.   
“Oh, ok, yeah, that’s… good, yes?” I replied awkwardly, then sighed, “I have no idea how to act right now.”   
“Neither do I,” Alistair admitted with a small smile.

“Are you angry at me?” I asked shyly.   
“Angry? No! I was worried you were angry with me!” he replied with a wild gesture.   
“Angry at _you?_ I’m the one who send you to Morrigan’s bed, I thought _you_ would be mad at _me_ , or disappointed, or disgusted, or whatever…” I answered and looked away.   
“So neither of us is angry with the other,” Alistair said, “that’s… that’s good.”   
“Yeah…” I said slightly relieved, “can I… hug you?” Alistair replied by crossing the room and take me in his arms.

“Ok, that’s good, this is good,” I whispered and relaxed into his embrace.   
“I want to take you to bed and just forget about this entire night,” Alistair sighed and kissed the top of my head.   
“Yes, let’s do that,” I replied, “I can definitely do that,” and felt him relax a bit. The tension in his muscles lessening slightly. I stroked his back gently as he held me, and I felt him relaxing further.

I gently guided him to the bedroom, my hands on his shoulders and pressing soft kisses against his neck. He sat down on the matrass when his calves hit the bed and pulled me into his lap. Letting his hands wander the curve of my waist and slipping under my plain linen shirt. I leaned down to kiss him gently, running my fingers through his hair and gently massaging his scalp.

I was going to make him forget all about Morrigan, giving him the complete opposite of what I imagine she gave him. So I was soft, gentle, and slow. Whispering in his ear that I loved him, that he was mine and I was his. I kissed, caressed, and sweettalked until I felt him relax fully. I raised the hem of his shirt a bit, watching for his response. To my satisfaction, he responded by taking the shirt off himself. I kissed him again, and gently pressed a hand to his chest, and he lay back on the bed. I took my time admiring him, I never tired of it. I knew every shape and every line, by sight and by touch.

I traced soft, wandering lines across his chest and stomach before moving to his shoulders and arms. Featherlight brushes across his wrists and back up along his forearms. Along the outer sides of his elbows, and up along the backs of his upper arms. Each touch was carefully measured, inviting but not demanding. I was carefully balancing between showing him I wanted him, and maintaining relaxed, unforced pace.

Alistair himself, did not remain passive. Deftly removing my shirt and breastband. He sat up with me in his lap to nuzzle my breasts, kissing, licking, and nipping his way along the tender flesh and kneading it gently. I let out a pleasured sigh, and ran my fingernails across his shoulders. Not to scratch, just to entice and make him shiver with the pleasure of it. I ran my nails from his shoulders to the base of his skull and along his scalp, drawing a soft moan from his lips.

Alistair rolled me onto my back, my legs wrapped around him. He settled on top of me and suddenly jerked up.

“Maybe I, uh… Shouldn’t I take a bath first? Or wash… or something?” he asked slightly embarrassed. I pretended to give it a moment’s thought.   
“We have two options, the first, is doing it _despite_ … her. The second, is soaping each other up nicely and _then_ do it despite her.” I gave him a lopsided grin and cocked my head. He let out a chuckle.   
“I’m glad to hear you don’t mind, but you have a _really_ good point with the soap there,” he brushed his fingers along the swell of my breast and took a handful.   
“On the other hand, having a bath drawn could take a while,” he said with a frown. I shook my head.   
“Nope, already taken care of, if you want it.” He looked up from my breasts and smiled before leaning down to kiss me.   
“Awesome, is it ready yet?”   
“I could go check,” I replied, “but I’d have to cover up my tits for a moment.”   
“Hmm… tough one,” he replied thoughtfully.

“Think of the soap,” I said huskily.   
“Mm-hmm,” came his distant reply as he went back to kneading my breasts.   
“How slick they would be in your hands,” I continued, taking great pleasure in his pained expression, “soft and slick and warm, rolling my hardened nipples between your fingers...” I sat up a bit to whisper in his ear, “how firm and round the flesh would feel, with your hands sliding over them, how they will move when you try to squeeze.” Alistair groaned.   
“You’re killing me, woman! Alright, go! Before I change my mind,” he rolled off and gave me a playful scowl as I hunted for my linen undershirt. I caught a pillow on my arm when I raised my arms to slip it on.

“What was that for?” I pouted.   
“Showing off your tits by sticking your chest out,” he growled. My mouth curled into a smirk, ruining my pout as I pulled down the shirt and shook my hair out.   
“So it worked?” I teased and dodged another pillow before ducking into the washroom where a servant was just finishing up, setting down two buckets of hot water next to the already full tub.

“Perfect timing, thank you,” I said with a broad smile. The woman bowed.   
“My Lady,” she said, “I have brought several scented soaps and oils, please let me know if you need anything else.”   
“That’s quite alright, you can take the rest of the evening off,” I winked, “I know where to find the pantry.”   
“It would really be no trouble my Lady, I could-”   
“Nope, you are getting an early night off, you should be with your loved ones, not taking care of people who will be just fine getting their own midnight snack to sate their ridiculous appetites,” I said brightly, making the servant girl’s lip curl with a small, shy smile.   
“If it pleases my Lady,” she said courteously.   
“Yes, it pleases the Lady,” I replied with a grin, “now go, be with the people you love while you can.” She bowed deeply before taking her leave and I turned to call Alistair. He was peaking around the corner when I turned.

“So,” he said, dragging out the word with a smirk, “you are getting the snacks the rest for the evening?” I chuckled.   
“Ass, you would have given her the night off too if it was you who checked.”   
“Yes, but it was not _me_ who checked,” he replied. I decided to answer that by taking off my shirt, stretching luxuriously and cupping my breasts with my hands. Alistair’s smirk had changed into a dangerous smile as he stalked towards me.

I crossed the last few steps lightly, jumping up with my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He caught me easily, one arm around my hips, hand firmly grabbing my ass, and the other around my waist. Allowing me to lean down, breasts pressed firmly against his chest, and catch his lips in an eager kiss, which he returned with vigour. He took a few steps into the washroom, I bit his lip and clung to him when he released his grip to lower me down.

“How am I going to get those leggings off like this?” he asked with his arms spread wide while I clung on like a monkey. I hopped off, shoving my leggings and panties down, stepping out of them, and darting back towards the tub.   
“Better?” I asked teasingly and dipping my toes in the water.   
“Yes, but not quite wet and soapy enough,” he replied as he took off the last of his clothes, and moved towards the tub, “we need to fix that.”

He held out a hand to help me step into the tub.   
“Very chivalrous,” I noted.   
“I have very unchivalrous plans, if it makes you feel better,” he quipped, setting a stool by the far end of the tub and gestured for me to lie down.   
“Not getting in the tub with me?” I asked as I lowered myself into the water.   
“I’m not just getting a bar of soap and groping you, if that’s what you were expecting,” Alistair replied as he sat down on the stool and looked over the oils and soaps the servant had brought, “which scents do you like?”

“Hmm, I like vanilla,” I said as I followed Alistair’s gaze, “if it’s not too strong.” Alistair smiled and picked up the bar of soap.   
“Never knew you had such exotic tastes.”   
“Honey, _Teyrn’s daughter_ , I had nothing but the best and rarest available,” I said with a slight smirk.   
“Hmm, that’s a lot of steps down to renegade Grey Warden, ” he teased.   
“And back up,” I countered innocently, “I recall you agreeing quite readily to my wishes.”

Alistair chuckled and shook his head.   
“You were very convincing, now lay back for me please,” he replied and gestured for me to lie down at the end where he was sitting on his stool.   
“So, what unchivalrous ideas did you have?” I asked as I abided.   
“We’ll get to that later, I want to take my time to enjoy you,” he replied as he gathered my hair in his hands gently and carefully started pouring water over it with a cup he’d found somewhere. I closed my eyes when he started to massage my scalp, pouring more water over the wavy mass until he felt my hair was damp enough to get the soap. I sighed contently, his fingers gently working the sensitive skin and the smell of vanilla light on the air.

“This is really nice, Alistair,” I said quietly while relaxing under his touch. His fingertips drew slow, swirling patterns from my hairline to the crown of my head. It send delightful tingles down my neck and shoulders and had me sighing more. He rubbed the space behind my ears and gently caressed the shells of my ears, ending at my earlobes and massaging them between thumb and forefinger. He moved his ministrations to the back of my head, and down to my neck next. Making sure to caress and massage each group of muscles carefully.

“Where, did you learn this?” I asked when his hands moved down to rub and knead my shoulders.   
“It was a tip from Zevran, actually,” he replied with a slight chuckle. I arched an eyebrow.   
“Really? Makes me wonder where this is going.”   
“Glad you like it so far,” he said and pressed a light kiss to my forehead. Eventually his hands moved down from my shoulders to my chest, and of course, my breasts.   
“Still good?” he asked while cupping both of my breasts with soapy hands.   
“Mm-hmm,” I replied very content with Alistair’s idea of ‘unchivalrous plans.’ He just gave me a wonderful massage before going for my boobs while he was running pretty damn hot before we made it to the washroom. It seemed plenty chivalrous to me, another example of how he managed to go back to being a perfect gentleman despite his arousal and need.

He kneaded, massaged, and caressed his way back to my chest, shoulders, neck, and finally my head. Taking the cup he had been using to rinse the soap from my hair.

“Why don’t you get into the tub with me,” I whispered invitingly as he went back to massaging my neck and shoulders. He replied with a kiss to my cheek.   
“Move forward a bit,” he said and stood. I scooted forward a little to let him step into the tub behind me. He pulled me back to lie back against his chest, I felt his erection press to the small of my back when I did so. He reached for the bar of vanilla scented soap when I settled, turning it in his hands before setting it down.

He took his sweet time fondling my breasts, the feel of the heavy mounts of flesh slipping from his hands. Meanwhile he nuzzled my neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin just below my hairline. I let out a moan when he gently pinched my nipples, letting them slip from his fingers. I felt him smile against my neck.   
“You like that?” he whispered and pressed my breasts up, letting his palms slide up with the soap. The feeling of his palms against the sensitive nubs had me gasp.   
“Yes,” I hissed and bit my bottom lip. A low chuckle rumbled though his chest and he let one hand slip beneath the water, trailing tingling patterns on my stomach. Slowly inching lower with each brush of his fingers, he continued playing with my breasts with his other hand.

I let out more quiet moans while he teased my thighs with his fingertips, and whimpered when he finally brushed them against my pearl. He nipped at my ear and started drawing slow circles with his fingers while kneading one of my breasts. I gripped his upper legs at either side of me and turned my head to be able to kiss him. He kissed me back with fervour, delighting in the little mewls and moans he drew from me.

“Does it feel good?” he whispered, and flicked his tongue against my bottom lip.   
“Yes,” I replied huskily, bucking my hips, desperate for more friction.   
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded. He pressed down firmer on my clit when I didn’t reply with more than a moan.   
“Tell me,” he repeated in my ear when I gasped.   
“I want you to play with my clit,” I managed, “keep going, ah, like that… oh _Maker…”_

It was almost unfair, how well Alistair knew my body by now. Knew just how to touch me, play with me, drive me to incoherent whimpering as I pressed myself up against his hand. I felt him shift beneath me to press his cock between my buttocks. The closeness of his dick to my tail end send a jolt of electricity up my spine, I arched my back involuntarily and let out a high pitched moan. Alistair pinched my nipple and kept rubbing my clit with steady strokes. My heart raced, my breathing caught, and heat pooled in my abdomen while I felt myself tense from my centre out to my limbs. I cried out when I hit the peak and went tumbling over the edge, writhing with the aftershocks before going limp in Alistair’s arms. He kissed my neck and held me while I came down from my high and regained control of my faculties.

I sighed and turned my head for a kiss, a slow kiss, not quite chaste but not demanding either. The kind of kiss that makes you sigh and relax, and make your heart beat faster at the same time. And leaves you wanting for more.

“I think I should let you play with soap more often,” I said with a hazy smirk and pressed another kiss to his lips.   
“I’m not exactly done yet,” he replied playfully.   
“Ooh, you have more ideas?” I answered and moved to straddle him. He flushed a little and chuckled.   
“Now that you mention it…”   
“Are we getting to the unchivalrous part?” I teased and was rewarded with a glare while he bit his lip. I arched an eyebrow expectantly.

“So, are you going to tell me what you want?” I asked, he let out a nervous chuckle that caught in his throat when he felt my hand around his cock.   
“Ah- I, have an idea, another idea, with the soap.”   
“Yeah, what’s that?” I purred and brushed my palm along his tip. A blush crept up his neck as he grit his teeth and groaned, letting out his breath through his teeth.   
“I haven’t figured out how to uhm, what- position, might… oh, Maker,” he threw his head back when I kept one hand with the palm on his tip while the other massaged his shaft.   
“Tell me what you desire, my love,” I whispered while nipping at his ear. He groaned again in pleasure.   
“My cock between your juicy, soapy tits,” he finally said.

“Ah,” I said with a smile and kissed his neck, “well, you could sit on the edge of the tub, and I’d sit in front of you. Or, I lie back, and you straddle my chest. The latter would give you more control, more room to play. The first, basically puts me in charge. So, take your pick.” I kept stroking his cock while I whispered my suggestions in his ear.

Alistair chuckled in between moans.   
“Well then, would you please lie back for me?” I caught his lips in a passionate kiss before doing as he asked, propping myself up on my elbows and cupping my breasts to press them up and together above the water. Alistair positioned himself over me, reaching for the bar of vanilla scented soap and dipping it in the water. I flicked my tongue at the tip of his dick as he rolled the bar of soap between his hands, causing him to buck and drop it. I giggled and gave him an innocent look, kissing the tip of his dick when he fished the soap from the water.

“You did that on purpose,” Alistair said mock accusingly and moved his soapy hands to my breasts.   
“Just getting a taste before it tastes like soap,” I said innocently.   
“Good point,” he assented and used a hand to press his dick between my breasts. Slippery as they were. He let out a sigh at the friction, with my hands holding them up, Alistair fully buried himself between the mounts of soft jiggly flesh. Standing on his knees, he was free to roll his hips and move between my breasts while kneading them.   
_“Maker,_ that feels good,” he groaned, moving back and forth at a slow but steady pace.

I rocked back and forth with him on my elbows, looking up at him as he took his pleasure. He looked down at me through half-lidded eyes, panting and groaning with the feeling of my slick flesh around his cock. From my point of view, his tip kept disappearing and reappearing between my cleavage, and it caused me to bite my lip to stifle a giggle. It looked pretty funny from that angle. Though, from Alistair’s point of view, it was an arousing sight.

I watched him as he worked towards his peak, listened to his breathing as it became ragged. I had to readjust my hands once or twice, the soap was making my hands slippery too, but that didn’t seem to bother Alistair. His eyes closed, brows furrowed, and teeth clenched, he build to his climax. He moved his hands to the edge of the tub while he kept thrusting his hips, seeking more friction as he started to tense.

I wasn’t prepared for a load of cum flying at my face, and it had me yelp, then giggle uncontrollably.

“Sorry,” I said between snorts, “I’m not laughing at you.” Alistair looked down, and chuckled, reaching down to help me wipe my face.   
“Oh, sorry love, I didn’t see that coming,” he said with a chuckle.   
“I did,” I snorted and burst out giggling again.   
“I’ll warn you next time,” Alistair quipped and wiped the last off my cheek, washing it off with a bit of water.

“Well, at least I didn’t get any in my eyes,” I said with a lop-sided grin, “that really stings.”   
“I wouldn’t know,” Alistair replied, “I’ve never hit my own eye before.”   
“You’ve hit other things?” I asked with a wriggle of my eyebrows, “Chantry boy?” Alistair joined in my laughter and sat back in the tub.   
“Do I _have_ to answer that?” I flashed a wicked grin.   
“Not if you don’t want to,” I said playfully, Alistair chuckled.   
“Then I choose to remain silent on the matter.”   
“Ahw,” I said with a pout, and leaned back for a luxurious stretch. I smiled and sighed, relaxing in the hot water. Enjoying the peace, briefly as it may last.

We were marching on Denerim in the morning, and I wanted to savour every second I got with him.

Every giggle, every kiss, the smell of vanilla, each time his cheeks flushed when I pried out of him what he wanted to do to my boobs, the look on his face… I drank it all in, carefully putting it all to memory. Whatever happened, I would still have this. The sound of his laughter, his pleasured moans and sighs, the taste of his lips. It was quite possible, this was the last time I got to enjoy this gorgeous, kind, goofball of a man. A man I loved so deeply that I could not bear the thought of being without him. I carefully filed the memories away, I would always have them.

No matter what happens… No matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously Alistair does not use the soap on Fela's puss, just the boobies. 
> 
> Soap is great fun. But I feel like I should warn you about using regular soap on your ladybits, and I don't mean your titties. If you really want to use soap to clean yourself, use the special kind like vagisil or lactacyd or whatever. Normal soap can cause a yeast infection. It's easily fixed with over the counter cream, surely, but people can be finicky about this. I'd rather spare you the discomfort. It's not an STD, it's a disruption of your skin hp levels that causes changes in your natural bacterial microflora. Totally normal, but itchy as fuck. 
> 
> Kisses.


	54. The Battle of Denerim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit has officially hit the fan, the group reaches Denerim.

I watched Zevran gallop down the road, out on another scouting mission. His knack for stealth served us well, as always.

“How are the men doing?” I heard Alistair ask one of his captains.   
“Tired,” a raspy voice replied, “but after our victory at Redcliffe, morale remains high.”   
“And those that were wounded?”   
“Looked after by those that weren’t, we’ve coupled those that suffered serious injury with men that haven’t been injured, having them look after each other. Dwarves and Dalish are doing the same,” the raspy voice replied.   
“Thank you, we’ll be upon Denerim soon,” Alistair replied, “let your men know to take their rest while we wait for our scouts to return, we might not get any other chances.”   
“Yes, your Grace,” came the reply, followed by the sound of hooves moving away and the clinking of armor.

“Are you alright?” Alistair asked and trotted his horse up next to mine.   
“Yeah,” I replied, “just scoping out the area a bit.”  
“Through the Taint?” he asked, and I nodded.   
“Any thoughts?” he asked when I didn’t reply. I was looking for the song, it was hidden among the whispers, but I caught pieces of it every now and again. Stronger, the pulses were more insistent, enticing almost.

“Archdemon is definitely out there somewhere,” I answered, “obscured by the horde, and… hushed. But it’s there, the pulses are coming from south-east of Denerim.”   
“So it’s currently not destroying the city,” Alistair said lightly, “just the horde.”   
“It would seem that way…” I replied.   
“Feels like a trap to me,” he answered.   
“It could flank us,” I said with a nod, “there are more single sources than I can count within reasonable time.”   
“We’ll be prepared,” Alistair replied reassuringly, he turned and shouted orders as he trotted off. I kept watching the road, preparing myself for the coming battle in silence.

* * *

I charged through a rain of arrows, pressing myself close to my horse and trusting in Wynne’s shields. We crashed into the first line of archers, the beating of hooves, mixed with the sound of steel hitting steel, cries of agony, shouting voices, and the occasional explosion barely heard as I mowed down as many bodies as I could.

The only way to go was forward. Toward the city, through the mass of darkspawn that was besieging Denerim. I gave my horse free rein, and focussed on slicing at every darkspawn within my reach. There was no room to go seek out alpha’s now, too many darkspawn, too many soldiers. Fights of this scale, were better fought if you stayed with your allies. Alone in the mass of hurlocks and genlocks, I would easily be overwhelmed. The formation turned right at my order, circling back and breaking up the darkspawn ranks. It allowed our infantry to follow, capitulating on the chaos the cavalry sowed. They kept them from regrouping while we broke the defences.

Sten had been given the job to flank the force flanking us, keeping them from breaking our ranks. Sten was a warrior first and foremost, and he had a lot more experience on vast battlefields like this than Alistair and I did together. He was also fiercely loyal and an adept rider. Shale would follow Sten’s charge, drawing as much attention to herself as she could. Meanwhile, the rest of us set to making quick work of breaking the force besieging Denerim. The longer we dragged the battle out, the longer we would have to leave ourselves vulnerable to the flanking force of darkspawn, being held up by Shale and Sten, leading a hundred riders. Overwhelm one, then crush the other.

I remained by Alistair’s side throughout the battle, never straying out of sight. Alistair learned how to ride but he hadn’t learned how to _ride._ The horse and I moved as one, it knew exactly where to go, which darkspawn I was targeting. I didn’t need the reins to tell the horse where I wanted to go. Merely shifting my weight was enough. We swept across the battlefield, leaving a trail of bodies on the blood sodden ground. It was exhilarating, cutting through the mass of bodies, moving through it at breakneck speed.

The Archers at our rear had started to regroup. I heard Alistair call out to turn and reform formation. We reared, sprinting back to Alistair. I fell in line as they started charging, evading the bodies already strewn about the battle field. The rush of battle had me grinning like a maniac, baring my teeth. We crashed into the archers before they could fire a second volley of arrows. The darkspawn scattered, they didn’t defend as units, each was on its own. Made them easier to pick them off, really.

We were quickly gaining the upper hand. Between us, and Riordan and the men we send with him manning the walls, the darkspawn were hard pressed to hold their ground. We came down on them hard, leaving a path of destruction in our wake. The battle raged on in a blur of steel and blood. My mind and body were focussed on killing, I felt a sense of control unlike any other. I felt fucking _invincible._

Then I felt it, the song, getting louder with each body I dropped to the ground.

_Good, we have your attention._

A shrieking roar pierced through the thunder of hooves and steel. I spun facing the direction of the sound, and the song. I saw it dive

“Alistair!”

The Archdemon roared and spit a plume of sickly coloured fire.

_How can fire even look sickly?_

Alistair spurred his horse, leaning away from the fire and sending the horse back around.   
“Get to the gates!” he shouted as the Archdemon soared higher towards the city. The darkspawn forces were falling to pieces around us, we had won this part of the battle.

Riordan met us at the western gate.   
“The city has been breached,” he announced, “darkspawn are tearing the city apart as we speak.”   
“Set the men to reclaiming the city, we’ll go after the Archdemon,” Alistair said with a nod.   
“We’ll need to ground it first,” I said while looking up at the scaly monstrosity swooping over the city.

“Fort Drakon,” Alistair said promptly, “it’s high, large enough, and has several ballista’s.”   
“That means we’ll have to carve our way through the city,” I replied and looked at Riordan, “we can’t simply go where darkspawn are thickest, we need a quicker route.”   
“There are several generals in the city, the Archdemon will call upon them for reinforcements when we ground it. Taking them out takes time but it’ll leave the darkspawn without proper leadership, you’ll be able to get through the city,” Riordan answered.

“Where?” Alistair simply asked.   
“The market square and the Alienage,” Riordan replied. Alistair nodded.   
“We’ll take out the generals first then.”   
“In the meantime,” Riordan said, “I will lure the Archdemon to Fort Drakon.” I frowned.   
“On your own?” Riordan gave me a rueful smile.   
“I may be old, but I still have a few tricks.”   
“It’s the best plan we have,” Alistair said, “we don’t have much time. We’ll take Morrigan, Wynne, and Zevran with us, the rest will hold the gates.”

We took a moment to say our goodbyes, I instructed Asher to keep Sten safe. He would lead the men holding the gates, an important job, so Asher was to watch his back and keep him safe.   
“Keep an eye on them boy, if things go bad, you come and get me.” Asher whined and pressed his shout against my cheek.   
“I know sweetheart, I’ll be fine, I promise. Now, who’s my big boy?” Asher barked.   
“That’s right! Now go tear out some darkspawn throats to keep your friends safe.”

“I had hoped to be by your side when you slay the Archdemon, Kadan,” came Sten’s voice from behind me and I felt a huge hand resting on my shoulder.   
“I know, my friend, but I need you here to hold the gate,” I answered and rose to face him.   
“I understand,” the big Qunari said stoically, though his eyes betrayed his emotion. He was afraid for me.

“Hey, listen,” I began, “if… if Alistair and I don’t make it back, I want you to take care of Asher.” Sten gave me a piercing look.   
“You will come back,” he stated.   
“Thank you Sten, for everything,” I replied. Sten took my arm in a warrior’s grip.   
“It has been an honour to fight by your side, Kadan, I owe you my life.”   
“Don’t mention it, it was the practical thing to do,” I said with a grin.   
“You have an odd sense of practicality, Kadan,” Sten replied.   
“I’ll explain it to you over drinks, and a mountain of cookies, when this is over,” I answered.   
“See to it that you do,” he said, and smiled.

“So, this is it huh,” Oghren rumbled, “you’re going after the big, ugly, monster dragon.”   
“Yeah,” I replied, “it’s my job.”   
“Don’t suppose you’ll take your old uncle Oghren with you?,” Oghren said with a slight smile, “I’ll hack its legs off for you.” I bent down to give Oghren a hug.   
“I need you here with Sten, you’re his second in command.” Oghren froze for a brief moment before petting my back awkwardly.   
“Just get back here in one piece,” he replied in his raspy voice, “I’m still saving some authentic dwarven ale for you.”   
“Don’t drink it before I get back,” I answered.   
“Be safe, Fae, we’ll be here to cover your way out of the city.”

Leliana hugged me before I could speak and kissed my cheek.   
“Return to us, my friend, we’ll be waiting,” she said with tears in her eyes.   
“Stay safe, I’ll need you to help plan my wedding,” I replied with a small smile and a wink. Leliana’s eyes lit up and she gave me another hug. Last to say goodbye, was Shale.

“It is off to fight an Archdemon then, it looks remarkably like a scaly bird.” I chuckled.   
“It flies, and I suppose it poops too.” Shale groaned.   
“Horrible creatures.”   
“The absolute worst,” I agreed.   
“I worry for its safety,” Shale said shyly.   
“Ahw, I’ll be ok, Shale,” I replied.   
“But it’s squishy and its body has limited strength and energy,” Shale countered.   
“We were always working towards this,” I answered reassuringly, “trust me, I’ll be fine.” Shale gave a nod and gently petted my head with a stone palm, which took some serious skill.   
“I’ll poke its cheek when it has a concussion and is hurting all over its squishy body again,” she said and gave me a smile.   
“I can always count on you Shale, thank you,” I replied.

Alistair, Morrigan, Zevran, and Wynne had already finished saying their goodbyes and were ready to leave. Riordan was already gone, and we needed to get moving.

* * *

The market square was burning, merchant stalls, barricades, and several buildings were ablaze. People were being slaughtered, I saw a woman crawling away from a hurlock, he pulled her head back by her hair and slit her throat without mercy. Then it laughed. A throwing knife to the throat shut it up.

“Stand your ground!” Alistair shouted, and blocked a swing from a mace with his shield. Some of the citizens were still fighting, desperately trying to keep the darkspawn at bay. Alistair was moving towards them, rallying them to fight harder and shouting instructions. I hacked at a genlock coming from my right, kicked at another, sidestepped a third and slashed its throat. With a loud crash, an ogre burst through the burning merchant stalls, sending flaming pieces of wood and embers flying.

I ducked behind a pile of debris to avoid being hit by burning projectiles followed by the massive ogre. Morrigan paralysed it and I took my chance to charge it. Using the debris as a ramp to leap high into the air, rapiers raised above my head, and slamming them down into the creature’s chest. I set my feet against its stomach, pulled my rapiers free and jumped back before it could break its paralysis and crush me against its chest. Missing my moving body with its arms by an inch.

Lightning struck it, stunning the ogre long enough for me to land on my feet and circle around. Clever, was never a word that I would use to describe darkspawn. I was out of the ogre’s field of vision, so instead of turning around, it went looking for a new target. And since Morrigan hurled a fireball at it, it went for her. Counting on this, she had cast several ice runes, which froze it mid-charge as it stepped on them, leaving me free to stick one of my rapiers into its spine between the first and second lumbar vertebrae, and the other into its thigh, severing a major artery. We left the ogre permanently paralysed from the waist down and bleeding out.

“Good work!” I called to Morrigan before spinning and kicking back a genlock that had been sneaking up on me from behind. A heavy heel drop to its throat crushed the cartilage protecting its windpipe. It took a while for the genlock to choke, by the time it did, I had cut down six others and was engaging a shriek.

It lunged at me, so I sidestepped and spun while drawing one rapier along its side and using the other to run it through. I twisted the blade before kicking the shriek off it. Heavy, pounding footfalls and the tremors in the ground told me there was another ogre coming from somewhere. It was going for Alistair, who had been mowing down darkspawn at such a rate that the ground around him was littered with bodies.

Alistair rolled out of the way of the charging ogre, letting it slam into a building where it briefly sat stunned on hands and knees among the debris of a collapsing building. It had knocked down one of the supporting walls of an already damaged structure, stone, wood, and rooftiles rained down on it. Alistair had managed to shield himself from the falling debris while I sprinted after the ogre, which had started to throw around the debris from the building it had just destroyed. I rolled out of the way of a large rock, sprinting forward and going down into a slide to avoid being hit in the chest with a support beam that came tumbling my way. I scrambled up what was left of a broken wall and leapt at the ogre’s face, jamming one rapier into its throat through its mouth and sticking the other through its eye and into its brain.

“Fae!” came a familiar roaring voice. Magnus charged from an alley, followed by a dozen Storm Coast knights, swinging his huge double-edged axe.

I had no time to respond, I was going down with the ogre I just killed, pulling free my rapiers and jumping off to avoid being crushed by it. I was immediately set upon by a hurlock alpha and an emissary. Grey Wardens killing off darkspawn like crazy maniacs tended to attract attention. I threw one of my rapiers at the emissary to prevent it from casting a spell and drew a dagger to replace it. I took down the hurlock alpha by ducking under its swing and sticking the dagger into its groin and lashing its throat with my rapier as I came to my feet.

Meanwhile the emissary had recovered enough to start casting another spell, I somehow managed to evade a bolt of lightning and slammed into the emissary feet first. I recovered quickly from the drop-kick and impaled it on my rapier while yanking the other one free and reclaiming it.

“Magnus! Get the alpha’s!” I shouted while going after several shrieks that were driving Zevran back. Wynne was aiding him with support magic but Zevran was so occupied with blocking, dodging, and evading, he didn’t get many hits in where it counted. I impaled two shrieks, one on each of my blades, twisted them, and pulled them free. The shrieks dropped to the ground as I leapt up and spun, evading a claw and lashing out with a reverse kick. My heel slammed into a shriek’s head while I lashed at another with both of my rapiers. Zevran took the opening to stab a dagger into the base of its skull and letting it drop to the ground.

“You ok?” I asked when the last of the shrieks that had been assaulting him fell.   
“Yeah, thanks, querida,” he replied and replaced his daggers with his bow.

I turned to see Magnus hack through the darkspawn surrounding him madly, like a hurricane of big, double-edged great axe. He’d gone berserk, and that was a good thing, it made him more lethal. Some might imagine some brute, frothing at the mouth and laughing hysterically. And while Magnus was indeed a bit of a brute, there was no foam on his mouth and no hysterical laughter. Grunts and roars, sure. But we all make those when we’re fighting, Magnus was no different, just a lot bigger.

He swung his axe with one hand and crushed a darkspawn skull against a broken wall with the other. He broke the back of another with the pommel of his axe and roared when he cut through the next. The darkspawn forces in the market square were thinning out quickly with our joint forces.

_So where is that General?_

I reached out through the Taint, if Riordan knew how to sense them, there must be something particular about them. It didn’t take me long to find it, now that I was closer to it than I was outside the city. There was an insistent pulsing coming from somewhere, something other than the song that came from the Archdemon. Then I picked up a second from somewhere north-west, where the Alienage was. The General charged through a gate leading further into the city, and it had brought reinforcements.

“Magnus! Keep them off us! We’ll take out the ogres first!” I shouted and sprinted toward a pile of debris that gave access to the roof of an adjacent building.   
“I got the ogres lassie, you get that big one with the plate armor!” Magnus roared and hurled his great-axe at one of the charging ogres, sprinting after it and mowing down darkspawn with his fists as the axe struck the ogre in the chest. The ogre went down while Magnus leapt on top of it and pulled his great-axe free. He ducked into a roll before impact with the ground and continued on his merry way.

_Ok then, Magnus has got the ogres handled. This is the man who turns battlefields into bloodbaths, after all._

As Magnus cut his way through darkspawn to assist Alistair with the ogre he was holding off, I got on with hunting the General. It had positioned itself with the city wall at it’s back, firing off a crossbow while surrounded by a ring of archers.

“Zevran, Morrigan! On me!” I shouted and sprinted across the rooftops to get closer to the General. Morrigan cast a mass fear spell and followed it up with a misdirection hex, effectively rendering the defensive ring of archers useless. Zevran picked them off with his bow while they scrambled in the direction opposite of Morrigan, leaving the General open for attack.

With a flick of my wrist I send a throwing knife flying while the General reloaded its crossbow. It took the knife on its metal bracer, after which it fell harmlessly to the ground. I leapt across an alleyway, ducking into a roll when the General fired off a bolt. It embedded itself in the stone of an outer wall behind me. I took my chance as it set to reloading the crossbow and leapt towards it with my rapiers held high.

I embedded them in the ground, the General had evaded my attack and drawn a vicious-looking mace, abandoning the crossbow. It swung its mace down at me with a roar, forcing me to abandon my rapiers and rolling to the side. I drew my daggers as I got to my feet. Another swing from the mace, and I jumped back. I ducked under the next swing, stepping in close and jamming a dagger between the General’s chest plate and pauldron. It hindered its movement a bit, but it didn’t seem to bother it much either. Before I could twist the blade, I was forced to twist my torso to evade a pommel strike to my ribs.

I abandoned the dagger, reaching for one of my rapiers instead and jerking it free from the ground. I lashed it along the backs of the General’s knees while twisting away from another blow of the mace. I buried my remaining dagger in the small gap between the General’s chest plate and back piece, this time I had time to twist it before yanking it out while sidestepping another pommel strike.

A lightning bolt from Morrigan stunned the General before one of Zevran’s arrows found its way into the General’s neck. It should have been a lethal shot, but the General kept right on swinging its mace around.

_Fuck this!_

“Morrigan! Spirit bomb it!” I shouted and sprinted for cover. The General chased after me of course, so I dashed over bodies and debris. It didn’t slow _me_ down but the darkspawn General was hard-pressed to keep up. I counted the seconds before the blast, ducking behind a wall before it blew up. _Of course,_ that didn’t kill it, but it was stunned enough for me to get close enough and behead it.

_That should do the trick._

As the General dropped limply to the ground, one of the sources of insistent pulses disappeared.

_Properly dead._

We cleared most of the darkspawn out of the market square easily after that, the rest fled to join larger concentrations of darkspawn. Like deep stalkers, they liked to attack in groups rather than alone. They understood there was safety in numbers. Or at least, better chances at killing more unblighted things. They went for anything really, people, their dogs, cats, cattle, horses. Darkspawn killed them all, given the chance. So we repaid them in kind, mercilessly hunting down those that fled, and killing them all without exception. Alistair pulled me aside as soon it was safe to do so.

“You ok? What were you thinking, going after that General alone?” he looked me over for wounds while he spoke.   
“I’m fine, you?” I replied while inspecting him in turn.   
“Yeah,” he said and wiped his forehead, then frowned at his metal clad arm.

“So, that General,” I said, “distinctive pulse, took a _lot_ of abuse to die. Beheading fixed the problem.”   
“Good to know,” Alistair replied and nodded toward Magnus approaching.   
“We got control of the market,” Magnus growled, “not sure we can hold it against a demon dragon though.”   
“We’ll get right on that, how are you holding up?” Alistair replied. Magnus gave a dark chuckle.   
“In my element,” he rumbled.

“Have you seen Teagan and Eamon?” I asked.   
“Last seen ‘em defending the eastern gate,” Magnus answered, “your arrival should have taken off some of the pressure on them, but it was already breached before you got here.”   
“We’d better hurry,” Alistair said, “Magnus, are you good here?”   
“Aye,” Magnus replied, “you go on now, let the devil out to play.” He winked at me before turning and shouting orders at his men.

“Let he devil out to play?” Alistair asked with a sideways look.   
“It’s uh, what we call _my_ version of going berserk,” I replied.   
“You’re not a berserker,” Alistair answered.   
“No, but I go into a focus,” I explained, “Magnus once said my eyes go darker when I do.”   
“Let’s go, next General is waiting.”

I retrieved my weapons, including the throwing knives I had used. Checked on Zevran, Morrigan, and Wynne, and led the way to the gate to the Alienage. We found it overrun. The remaining elves desperately trying to defend their homes. We rushed in, pushing the darkspawn back through the long street that led to the Vhenadahl. It was burning.

“Use anything you can find! We need to keep that gate closed!” Shianni shouted while firing off arrows at the attacking darkspawn. Behind her, several men and women were stacking up debris, and even furniture, to keep the gate shut while something was banging against it.

_Probably not a battering ram, unless they improvised it, but darkspawn aren’t that resourceful. Must be an ogre then. In which case..._

“That gate won’t hold!” I shouted while wading through the fight to get to Shianni.   
“Shianni! Get your people away from there!” The sound of cracking wood now accompanied the pounding.   
“Move! It’s an ogre! _Move, Shianni!”_

She and her people scattered, but not all of them were quick enough. The ogre charged through the gates, slamming them open and scattering debris everywhere. Some were hit by the ogre itself, others got hit by flying pieces of wood and stone. The ogre went through the square like a mad bull, going straight for the burning Vhenadahl.

I ducked, using a hurlock for cover by impaling it on both of my rapiers. Shielding myself from the rain of sparks and embers with a writhing body. A vicious twist of both wrists and it stopped squirming, and went limp. I kicked it off my blades and advanced on the ogre. Darkspawn had started to pour through the broken gate, capitalising on the chaos caused by the ogre. I bent back to evade a crude sword, lashing out at the arm that swung it with one rapier and stabbing the other through the genlocks chest. As I pulled my rapier free, I continued the motion to slice at another coming at me from my other side. I took the next by slicing at its throat as I dashed past.

The ogre had recovered from its collision with the burning Vhenadahl. Though I could see large patches of burned and scorched skin. It reeked. Darkspawn already stink to begin with, burning flesh stinks just as much, put them together and you get something truly vile. I went down in a slide to evade an axe, slicing at my assailant’s knees. It wasn’t dead, but it wouldn’t be following. So I bounced to my feet and continued my stride.

The ogre hurled a piece of burning wood at me when it saw me coming for it. I dodged left, letting the flaming debris pass me by. I felt the heat of it as it sailed past, but my eyes were on the ogre. I dove into a roll as it swung a fist at me, bouncing to my feet and lashing at the backs of its knees. I darted between its legs when it tried to grab me and cut into its thigh. The leg gave out and the ogre bent forward, going down on all fours. I ran both rapiers from where its bellybutton should have been to the hollow of its throat. That’s when it decided to let itself drop in hopes of crushing me. I had been counting on this, twisting out from under its shoulder and angling my blades toward its neck. The force of the fall caused my blades to sink deep into its neck and slice the jugular.

The blood spray would have bothered me more if I hadn’t been covered in blood and guts from head to toe already. Instead it was rather satisfying, and I let out a growl as I pulled my blades out of the ogre’s neck and moved on to smaller targets. Shianni had regrouped with several elves and had been picking off any darkspawn coming too close while I took out the ogre. I joined Alistair in pursuit of any alpha’s or emissaries. The General had yet to show itself, so we kept cutting them down. Alistair supressed the emissaries’ magic, covering my advance while I took them out.

Emissaries tended to wear little armor, so most of the sweet spots were vulnerable to attack. It was when I was at my best, making short work of my targets in quick succession. The fight dragged on, Alistair was rallying the people, shouting for them to stay back and protect their homes. But the people were tired, and afraid. They weren’t soldiers.

“We need to go after the General!” Alistair shouted, “this is taking too long!”   
“North!” I answered, “past the gate!” We got moving. Zevran, Wynne, and Morrigan followed. If we wanted to get past the gates, we would need to push our line. Dwarven reinforcements had come in from the east side of the Alienage, our infantry had made it into the city. They covered our advance and kept the bulk of the darkspawn off us.

This General, a bloody emissary, had taken up a far more strategic position. Not surprisingly, the average emissary was a bit more intelligent than the average alpha. Which isn’t to say it was smart, but it knew how to use a bottleneck to its advantage. And as a spellcaster, it didn’t need to get in close to attack.

Alistair dispelled a bolt of lightning before it could hit me, he started draining the creature’s mana next. Strangely, I could tell by the soft tingling in my left side, where he bashed a hurlock back a couple of feet. That was certainly new., but currently not important.

I swung one rapier at the emissary’s chest, using the other to block a swing of its staff. I kicked at its knee, and slammed the hilts of my rapiers into its chest. I lashed at its neck, spun, and jammed my rapiers into its chest again. I twisted them before pulling them free as the General sunk to its knees. I kneed it under the chin and thrust a rapier into its exposed throat. I pulled it back, and took off its head with a powerful swipe. Emissaries were very vulnerable without their magic, I had taken advantage of that. Alistair was the one who provided the advantage of course, it would have been a lot more difficult without him. Without their General, and most of the alpha’s already taken out, we managed to clear the Alienage.

People quickly set to dousing fires and tending to their wounded under Shianni’s guidance. I gave my party a quick look-over. They looked tired, but that was to be expected. I could tell Wynne’s pupils were slightly dilated from using lyrium. Her constant support magic was what had kept us up for so long, the battle might not be taking an overly large toll on Zevran, Alistair, and me, but on her it did.

“Are you good, Wynne?” I asked and touched her shoulder. She smiled warmly.   
“Yes dear, I am quite well.”   
“Alright, don’t overtax yourself,” I replied.   
“You mean, don’t use too much lyrium,” Wynne chuckled, “don’t worry dear, I know my limits. You don’t get to be this old if you can’t handle your lyrium.”   
“If you can handle your lyrium like you can hold your liquor, we’re fine,” Zevran quipped.   
“Morrigan?” I asked simply. To which she replied,   
“I am well.”   
“Good,” I answered. It had taken a while for the witch to get used to me checking on her well-being, but now she simply answered the question instead of questioning and dodging it. I found it delightfully efficient.   
“Zev?”   
“Si, cariño,” he replied with a broad grin, and downed a regeneration potion, “I can keep up.”

Alistair gave a nod and led us further into the city. We were about to cross a bridge when the Archdemon swooped down and right over us.

_Shit._

The creature roared, spat a plume of its weird fire and flew up to one of the city’s watchtowers. Alistair ushered our companions across while I watched a figure emerge atop the watchtower, it was unmistakably Riordan.

“No…” I whispered as I watched the Archdemon assault the tower with its blighted fire breath before soaring closely past it. Riordan crouched.   
“No,” I said just a little louder. Drawing Alistair’s attention towards me, he followed my gaze to where Riordan was now leaping at the by-passing Archdemon.   
“No!”

Riordan landed on a wing, his dagger went through the membrane, which wasn’t tough enough to hold against a dagger with a full grown, fully armed, man hanging from it. He slid down the wing while the Archdemon made a wild turn, caused by the injury. The angle threw Riordan sideways and against its torso. He scrambled and clawed, desperately trying to find a hold until he managed to get his dagger between the sharp scales just above the Archdemon’s left hip. He clung on, grabbed his other dagger, and thrust it into the Archdemon’s skin. Using both of his daggers, he climbed to the Archdemon’s back while the creature veered and rolled in the air to shake Riordan loose. The Grey Warden struggled to hold on, losing his grip with one hand when the Archdemon deliberately crashed its shoulder into a different watchtower. The Archdemon rolled again, mid-air, and Riordan lost his grip. We watched him fall.

The Archdemon roared, and made a sharp turn.

“Oh, shit, run. _Run!”_ I shouted as I dragged Alistair with me across the bridge in a mad dash. The Archdemon was swooping down again, and this time, it was going for us. We dove forward when the torrent of flame hit, destroying the bridge behind us. We scrambled to our feet as it kept crumbling away, threatening to cause us to fall into the river.

No matter how good a swimmer you are, if you are wearing a good thirty pounds of metal, closer to eighty in Alistair’s case, you’ll sink like a brick.

I grabbed Alistair’s elbow to drag him forward before the bridge could crumble away underneath him. He pushed me forward in return to get me to safety, but it caused him to lose his footing on the loose stones. I just managed to grab his arm, and pull with all my might.   
“Fuuuuuck, you’re heavy,” I groaned and felt myself being dragged closer to the edge by Alistair’s weight. I hooked my toes around a loose tile, but I was unable to fully stop myself from inching towards the edge.

In a flash, Morrigan and Wynne ducked on top of me and Zevran hurried to grab Alistair’s other arm and help him pull himself up. I had the wind knocked out of me by two bodies suddenly hitting me and was dragged to my feet by the other two women to get to cover before the Archdemon managed to turn and try again. I was shoved into an alcove in the city wall to catch my breath.

“That thrice cursed fool!” I panted as soon as I was able, “who tries to jump on a dragon in _mid-fucking-air_ , by jumping off the _tallest, fucking tower in the city_!?” Alistair looked pale and glanced at Morrigan.

“Well… You did say you expected him to fail,” Morrigan said dryly, “though perhaps not quite so spectacularly.” Four pairs of eyes fixated on me.   
“What? I’m going to trust _one_ stranger to solve all our problems? You people need to manage your expectations. And what he just did there, Maker take him to your side, was Goddamn _stupid!_ ”   
“Cannot be helped, this is why women live longer than men,” Zevran said with a shrug, “are we going?” Alistair gave a nod.   
“Follow me.”

We darted out of our alcove cautiously, Alistair and me looking toward the sky in search of the Archdemon, and the rest looking out for enemies on the ground. I spotted the Archdemon not far from where we stood, its wing was obviously giving it trouble. It kept leaping into the air, flap its wings to fly a short distance, and landing again to repeat the process, basically hopping across the city.

“It’s headed for Fort Drakon,” I said with a wry smile.   
“Well, at least we’re headed the same way,” Alistair replied equally wryly and he started leading us north.


	55. The Final Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. Showtime.

Denerim burned while we cut our bloody way through to Fort Drakon.

After hard riding for two straight days, and a day of constant battle, we were starting to feel the fatigue. Slowing down was not an option, _mistakes_ , were not an option. People were dying, the streets ran red. And yet we pushed on. Through fortifications, ogres, emissaries, shrieks, I don’t know how many genlocks and hurlocks, and even the occasional blighted bronto.

Battle weary as we were, we kept going, leaving a trail of darkspawn corpses through the city. We had help, the mages, the dwarves, and the Dalish elves had all reached the city and had been instructed to get us through the horde and to the Archdemon. But that doesn’t mean it was easy. Fort Drakon lay at the other side of the city, and under the guidance of the Archdemon, the darkspawn fought hard to keep us away from it.

Finally, we breached Fort Drakon, Dalish elves and mages pouring in after us while the dwarves would hold our only exit. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t send a shiver down my spine to be back there. We had gotten a _little_ too close to finally being caught, tortured, and executed in this place.

_We might die in Fort Drakon after all… or on top of it, at least._

Darkspawn had gone through the guards and soldiers like a mad bull might go through a busy market. Bodies, broken doors, pools of blood, nearly everyone had been slaughtered. _Nearly,_ everyone. We were looking for the fastest way to get to the roof when we stumbled upon Sandal.

I opened the door at the top of the stairs slowly, the metallic tinge of blood in the air was stronger there. As I peeked around the door, I saw darkspawn mixed in with the bodies. A _lot_ of darkspawn. Someone put up a serious fight here.

“Enchantment?” I heard a familiar voice ask and I snapped my head in its direction.  
“Holy- Sandal!” I rushed in to kneel in front of the young dwarf that, until now, had always been at Bohdan’s side, as far as I knew. He was covered in blood, head to toe, but carried no visible weapons.

“Hey buddy,” I said gently while inspecting Sandal for wounds, “got yourself mixed up in some sticky business, haven’t you?” I gestured around at the bodies and the blood. My companions came in behind me, and Wynne immediately moved to give the boy a check-over.  
“My, my,” Zevran purred as he inspected the room, “this must be the work of an artist.”  
“I see only one man left standing,” Morrigan replied with a curious look at Sandal. I looked at our implied artist.  
“Did you kill all these darkspawn, Sandal?” He nodded vigorously and beamed.  
“Good job,” I said and patted him on the shoulder, “you’ve done well Sandal.” His impossibly wide grin got even wider and he bounced up and down while Wynne tried to find any injuries.  
“It would seem none of this blood is his,” Wynne finally said, “he wouldn’t be this happy if it were.” Indeed, once in camp, Sandal had cut his finger while chopping carrots, he’d been so upset it took Bohdan half an hour to console him.

I nodded at Wynne’s assessment and looked back at Sandal.  
“Sandal, I need you to go down the stairs, and back to the entrance. There will be other dwarves there who can keep you safe, they can get you back to your dad. Can you do that for me?” Sandal nodded again.  
“Stay with the soldiers, alright, if there are too many darkspawn to fight, you run and hide. Understand?” Another nod. I pulled Sandal into a hug, which he returned with both of his arms around my neck, before sending him off. He had always been quite physical in his way of showing appreciation or affection. Nothing unseemly, of course, Sandal was too innocent for that. Like a child, sort of. The boy was a hugger. And while I was usually very territorial about my personal space, I found Sandal’s ways acceptable.  
“Be safe, ok?” I said as I released him. He patted my head gently before running off with a little wave.

I looked back at four pairs of raised eyebrows.  
“What?” Alistair and Zevran shrugged, Morrigan rolled her eyes, and Wynne gave me a grandmotherly smile.  
“That boy can obviously defend himself,” Morrigan said scathingly, “I do not believe you need to worry on his behalf.”  
“While I just _love_ taking my friends with me on a suicidal mission,” I replied curtly, “I’d rather see Sandal safe with his father. Not all friends are suited for Archdemon-slaying you see.”  
“I think the boy might surprise you,” Zevran snickered.  
“He’ll have to do that some other time then,” Alistair interrupted and motioned for us to follow him.

Sandal… was special. Socially, emotionally, and cognitively, he seemed to be at the level of a young child. And at the same time, he was a genius with enchantments. Something that should take decades of study, practice, and hard work, and to Sandal it came naturally. As did killing darkspawn it would seem. But given his gentle kindness, and the fact that he didn’t entirely seem in control of his emotional responses, I’d rather not put him through a fight. I wasn’t entirely sure Sandal could shield himself from the trauma that could cause. You wouldn’t send a five-year-old to kill darkspawn, and not just because he wouldn’t be able to fight, but because of the emotional impact. That’s why we keep children away from violence. Most of the time.

We hurried up the steps, and I felt my feet getting heavier with each step. I was dreading what would come next. We had come so amazingly far but we were still far from victory. We could still fail. We could still die, it was likely, even. But it had to be done. The Archdemon wouldn’t stop unless we stopped it. Riordan was dead, it was up to Alistair and me now. I halted for a moment at the top of the steps, reluctant to go for the door.

“This is it then,” Alistair said quietly, “the final battle.”  
“Yeah,” I replied sheepishly, “do or die.”  
“I vote for do,” Alistair answered awkwardly and I smiled despite what we were about to do.

“I love you, Alistair,” I chuckled and linked my fingers with his. I was wearing a glove and he was wearing a gauntlet, but it didn’t matter. He turned to face me.  
“And I love you,” he replied, “always.”

We stared at each other for a moment, my stomach tied itself into tight knots. I was afraid, afraid that I might lose him. This man had been by my side nearly all hours of the day for almost a year, what would be left of me without him? I could only hope the ritual worked, that we had a chance at survival. I had to. Alistair’s lips were on mine, gentle but firm, bespeaking his love and his desire to make sure I knew. I kissed him back with the same urgency, pouring into the kiss what I couldn’t put into words. I loved him more than I knew how to tell him, needed him as much as I needed to breath. I could not lose him.

The kiss broke all too quickly. Alistair stepped back with a pained smile.  
“Remember what you promised?”  
“Same as you,” I replied, “survive.” I glanced at Morrigan after emphasizing the last word. She looked at me with her golden eyes, a message unspoken but one well understood. I bowed my head at her respectfully, thanks to Morrigan, we had a chance. She returned the gesture solemnly.

That’s as close as you can get to having an emotional goodbye with Morrigan. No words spoken, no touching, no tears. And it felt… just right, to me. I would never see my friend again after this, it was how it had to be. With Morrigan at least, it was her way. I had promised not to go after her, or to search for her or the child. But that did not mean I was sacrificing my friendship with her, honouring her request actually meant I would always have her friendship. Just not her presence. Morrigan was much like a wild and exotic animal. To be her friend meant I had to let her follow her nature. She was rationally motivated of course, it wasn’t just some instinct. But I trusted her, I trusted her word.

Zevran reached the top of the stairs before Wynne did, he gave me a deep bow.  
“This is when we say our goodbyes, yes?” he purred with a charming smile, “it has been an honour to fight by your side, and an even greater honour to be able to call you my friend. And I would like for that arrangement to continue, so,” he gave me a sly smile, “I suggest you get that _fine_ ass out there, ‘let the devil out to play,’ and make that Archdemon your bitch.” I broke into a wide smile, shook my head and pulled him into a hug.  
“Stop eavesdropping,” I replied playfully and kissed him on the cheek, “first round is on me.” He flashed his most charming smile.  
“Excellent, let’s get this done and get to the drinks and cards, querida, all work and no play...” he winked at me. I let out a snorty laugh and gave him a smile. Leave it to Zevran to make light of a possible final goodbye and turn it into a flirt. Wynne was giving him the disappointed grandmother-look when she made it to the top of the stairs, opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and turned to me instead.

“Now, dearie, I was promised an Archdemon,” she said mock sternly. I could see her pupils were even more dilated than they were before. She must have been high as a kite by then. But she seemed to be enjoying it, and winked at me with a wide grin. I decided not to point out her intoxicated state and flashed a grin of my own.  
“Getting impatient? You still have some time, don’t you?” She chuckled.  
“Why yes, I could knit it a sweater! Or, we can tear that ugly motherfucker to pieces and dance around its corpse when I set it on fire, your call.”

My eyebrows climbed higher with every word and my eyes widened while I gaped at her. Sweet old Wynne, chasing the dragon like a homicidal maniac.

“Well, alright then,” I finally snickered, “right this way ma’am.” I gave her a quick hug, which she returned, before I turned back to Alistair. We were ready.

* * *

Alistair kicked the door open.

The sky had gone from dark and looming grey, to the dusty oranges and reds of dusk over a burning city. The Archdemon sat perched up on one of the towers, and let out a shrieking roar. I felt it reverberate in my body right down to my bones.

_T_ _hat fucker is challenging us,_ I thought darkly.

And of course it was sitting up too high to be within our reach. Arrows and magic were all fine and dandy but the impact wouldn’t be great enough to ground it. Then I spotted the ballistae, now _those_ had kick. I tapped Alistair on his elbow and sprinted for the huge mounted crossbows. He followed. I might need his muscle to help me load them. Zevran set off to provide a distraction with Wynne on support. Morrigan set to hindering the Archdemon’s attacks with curses and hexes.

Zevran sprinted forward.  
“Oye! Conjo!” he shouted.  
“Over here! Feo!” he waved his arms and did a cartwheel. Wynne was aiding him with speed and strength, allowing him to dance around and evade the gusts of fire that the Archdemon spat at him from atop its tower.

I skidded to a stop at the nearest ballista and inspected the weapon. Unloaded. I hurriedly started turning the wheel to brace the thick string. Alistair took over when he reached me and I set to searching for a bolt. I found a box of them near the short wall between us and a seven story drop. I loaded the ballista as Alistair gave the bracing wheel a last turn. He stepped aside to let me aim it and release the mechanism. The bolt was launched with tremendous force, striking the Archdemon’s side. I guessed it was the spot where its lower ribs would be. I imagined the Archdemon’s anatomy was similar to that of my dog, the spine and thus the ribcage, at least. It was a decent hit, hopefully it had pierced its liver or stomach. You know, if it… needed those.

I had no time to admire the shot, the Archdemon reeled, clawing at the rooftiles until it decided to just jump off and breath fire at Alistair and me.

We each ducked behind the battlements to avoid the flames and most of the heat. The ballista we had used exploded into a rain of fire and splinters. Alistair covered our heads with his shield, while we pressed ourselves into the ground. We scrambled to our feet, the moment the fire stopped.

Something else had attracted its attention, Dalish elves were pouring out of one of the towers and set to assaulting it with arrows, led by Keeper Lanaya. They had several apostate mages among their ranks, who used some kind of nature magic to throw up barriers and shields. The Archdemon had made it difficult for any fighters to come close by leaping and flapping away each time they closed in. Tiring myself out running after the Archdemon would be a waste of time and energy. I needed to fuck up the other wing.

We ran for the next ballista while the Archdemon was occupied with the Dalish elves. A single arrow from a longbow might not do much damage, but hailing down on the Archdemon in large numbers, they proved more than just a nuisance. It roared again, the sound send a vibration through the back of my skull. It was a command. Reinforcements were being called.

Alistair strung the ballista while I loaded it with a bolt. Darkspawn swarmed the fort while I took aim, waiting for an opening. Alistair kept any darkspawn away from me, letting out a war cry when he ran one through, and kicked it off his sword and into another. He took the next with a shield bash and followed with a wide swing of his sword. The Archdemon got ready for another spray of blighted fire, it spread its wings _just_ a bit each time it did that. Much like a person might spread their arms a little when they suck in a breath and get ready to scream. I fired the ballista, sending the bolt into the joint of its good wing. It screeched, and flailed its front claws around madly in an attempt to find the bolt stuck in the joint.

We didn’t bother waiting for a plume of fire to come our way, sprinting for cover the moment the loud ‘thump’ of the ballista signalled that it had been fired. The Archdemon destroyed it, like it had done with the last. Several darkspawn were killed when the ballista burst into flames, and the others paid no heed, they went straight after Alistair and me.

They chased us across the battlements to the next ballista, we wanted any advantage we could get before we went in close, and the ballistae could provide it. Wynne shouted for the Dalish elves to do the same, to use the ballistae first and injure the Archdemon as much as we could before going close to it. Those that did were viciously thrown back by either razor sharp claws or by the huge swiping tail. Equally deadly, considering the many sharp edged scales and long points.

I turned to meet the darkspawn giving chase, drawing my rapiers and lashing out with a high kick. It knocked the first hurlock to the ground and caused the next to stumble over it. Stabbing the first in the chest and cutting the second along the side of its neck while it fell. I sidestepped the next, spun and cut into its abdomen. I met the one after that with my elbow on where its nose should have been. Pretty much the middle. I gutted that one too and leapt for cover when genlock archers released their arrows.

I tackled another with a growl and cut its throat in the process. I quickly leapt to my feet and used the few seconds it took to nock and draw another arrow to pick up a crossbow bolt and hurl it at the archers as if it were a javelin. It was a little awkward, the tip being heavier than I was used to. And it didn’t nearly have the force of a ballista behind it, coming from me. But it got the job done. I spiked one of the archers in the chest while the rest scattered to get to cover while I picked up the next. They expected me to throw it, rather than turn and sprint for the ballista Alistair had strung. It took them a moment to realise there was no large projectile coming, long enough for me to mow down two more hurlocks with the bolt in my mad dash to the ballista.

I didn’t look back to see the genlock archers draw their bows, I slammed the bolt into the ballista and moved to take aim while Alistair gave me cover with his shield. It’s no easy job to aim a weapon as large as a ballista. I kept my gaze level with the angle of the bolt while moving the mechanisms that allowed me to adjust the angle of the shot. It left me terribly exposed. An arrow grazed my arm, right before I released the mechanism and fired the bolt. The shot had been meant for the Archdemon’s vulnerable belly, which lay exposed each time it rose on its hind legs to slam down its claws or breath more fire. Instead I hit one of its hindlegs.

_Good_ _enough_ , I decided.

And got ready for the next blast of fire. It never came, a team of mages, led by First Enchanter Irving, had burst out of one of the towers and send a torrent of fire, lightning, and ice for the roaring Archdemon. Even from a bit of a distance, I could see the blue shimmer of magical shields that protected the mages from harm. They withstood a gust of flame from the Archdemon, but the mages quickly moved to a safer position nonetheless. With the Dalish forming a protective line between us and the darkspawn, Alistair and I reloaded the ballista. This time the bolt hit the inguinal region, rendering the leg useless.

The Archdemon roared, emphasizing its fury with another plume of blighted fire. It wouldn’t be jumping away anymore now. It was dragging one hind leg, hindering its movement and its wings were useless for flying. We had it pinned down. But it was still deadly. It bit one of the Dalish elves in half, and ripped another to shreds with a claw while we reloaded the ballista. The next shot landed close to the base of its tail, where it was particularly sensitive.

It shrieked and blasted the ballista Alistair and I were using. Alistair let out a pained grunt when a burning piece of wood grazed his side. His armor protected him from most of the damage, but that didn’t mean he got away unscathed. A splinter had cut him along his jaw, and the heat was a lot more than uncomfortable. He dropped to the ground to avoid getting hit by more flying debris, covering his head with his arms.

I took cover behind a crate of bolts, fished one out and slipped it into one of my rapier’s sheaths before sprinting and pulling Alistair to his feet. There were no remaining unmanned ballista. And the Archdemon was immobilised. Without speaking a word, we moved to fight our way through the darkspawn and towards the Archdemon. Alistair bashed a hurlock with his shield before mowing it down with his sword.

Meanwhile I spun into a low kick, flooring two while gutting a third. I impaled both of the floored hurlocks with my rapiers, twisted, and jerked them back. I blocked an incoming mace with one and lashed out with the other. A sweep kick got one under its chin and I spun, turning it into a roundhouse kick. I followed it with my rapiers, slicing a throat and lashing a genlock along its chest. I sprinted forward before they could recover, I kneed one mid-dash and kept going without looking back. Alistair was right behind me. I went down in a slide to avoid an axe and slashed at the wielder’s legs with one rapier. The sound of steel hitting flesh and the thud that followed it, told me Alistair had taken it down.

An ogre climbed out of one of the crumbled towers and charged. I leapt up the battlements, sprinting along the narrow stone wall to meet the ogre. I jumped, slamming one rapier into its shoulder and letting the force of its charge throw me over its shoulder while I held on to my anchor. So I swung around the ogre’s shoulder and landed on its back, jamming the other rapier into its neck. The ogre faltered in its charge, stumbled, and fell down face first. The impact threw me forward, I was forced to duck into a roll to negate the impact.

I jerked the bolt I had picked up from the sheath I stuck it in as I got to my feet. With a slightly irritated growl, I bashed in the skull of a charging hurlock with a wild swing, and lurched at the ogre. It was sitting on all fours now, slightly dazed from its fall and swinging its head back and forth. I used a genlock as a ramp, and leapt at the ogre in a high arc with the bolt raised high above my head. I slammed it into the base of its skull, and it went limp.

I jerked the bolt free with a deliciously squishy sound Shale would have been proud of, and slammed it into a bypassing genlock’s ribs. I grinned at the crunching sound of ribs cracking as the genlock fell flat on its back. I stabbed it in the face with the bolt for good measure, and put it back in the sheath on my left shoulder. I yanked my rapiers from the ogre’s corpse and continued my mad dash towards the Archdemon.

Zevran was already attacking it, slicing at the Archdemon’s side and keeping just out of reach of its front legs and teeth. The hindleg I had crippled dragged behind it uselessly, forming no threat to the clever elf. From the slight glow of his skin, I could tell Wynne was still aiding him. And good thing she was too, the Archdemon may have been crippled, but it was still trying very hard to get to Zevran, dragging itself along. Zevran moved with it, and the Archdemon let out a frustrated shriek, setting fire to darkspawn and foe alike. We were losing people, and fast.

Morrigan cast a death hex on the Archdemon, and followed it up with several fireballs. She had joined the other mages with Wynne. A single mage is an incredible force, they command power I could only dream of. But a team of them, was nearly unstoppable. While the Archdemon was occupied with chasing Zevran, the mages assaulted it with everything they had. More than one of them high on lyrium, not counting Wynne. She seemed to have found the right flow, casting spell after spell.

I ran one rapier through a hurlock, spun, taking the creature with me before kicking it off my blade and sending it into another. Meanwhile I slashed at a genlock coming at my side. I ducked beneath a swing from an axe and moved into a low kick, flooring my assailant and slicing at its belly as I got up. I turned just in time to see Zevran getting hit by the Archdemon’s claw. The blow send him flying back a good twenty feet, he dropped his daggers and went down in a bloody heap. He didn’t move.

“Zevran!” I screamed and doubled my efforts of fighting through the darkspawn to reach my friend. The edges of my vision turned red, and my heart raced.

_Please don’t be dead._

To my left, I heard Alistair roar as he bashed his way through any darkspawn that stood in his way to reach Zevran. I followed in his wake, viciously ending any darkspawn within reach.

_He can’t be dead, Zevran can’t be dead._

My breath was coming fast, I had been close to losing a friend before, but this was the fucking Archdemon that struck him down. He was bleeding, and he still wasn’t moving.

Alistair reached him first, mowing down any darkspawn to close for comfort, and kneeling by Zevran’s side. Meanwhile Wynne broke away from the mage’s formation with four others, making her slow and violent way towards Zevran. I kept the darkspawn away from Alistair and Zevran while Alistair stabilised him and assessed his wounds. I lashed, swiped, cut, stabbed, and growled. Each second Zevran remained unconscious I felt my chest constrict tighter, and the fury in my belly growing hotter.

I let my body move on its own, instinctually evading, blocking, and killing. I left the ground littered with bodies around the men I was defending. Fury was taking over, focussing my mind on only one thing, killing as many darkspawn as I could. The Taint flared in my veins, fuelling the flames and lending my tired muscles strength. Alistair and Zevran needed to be kept safe, nothing else mattered until Wynne reached them. The Dalish and the mages, though dwindling, were keeping the Archdemon occupied.

I was vaguely aware of the Archdemon calling for more reinforcements, and sub-sequentially more darkspawn pouring from the towers. Their numbers forced our forces to go on the defensive, the mages were now casting area of effect spells to control the crowd and thus the battle. Wynne was hard pressed to keep moving, darkspawn had blocked her path and kept her pinned down.

Darkspawn kept coming at me in an endless stream, more and more with each wave. I was losing ground, Wynne couldn’t reach us and Zevran was defenceless. Alistair was forced to draw his weapon to fend off the darkspawn I couldn’t stop, having laid his shield over Zevran’s torso for some form of protection. Alistair and I together could hold the darkspawn, but Wynne was still pinned and Zevran was slowly bleeding out. His golden skin had become pale, and I couldn’t tell if he was breathing with all the chaos around us.

Suddenly, Morrigan crashed through the mass of darkspawn in the form of a giant spider. She tore them apart with clicking fangs and pinned the others with webbing. It gave Wynne the opening she needed and with a tempest of electricity she took out any darkspawn Morrigan didn’t get. The mages by her side did the same and with Morrigan’s help they managed to clear a path. Slowly they made their way towards us, incinerating, electrocuting, and freezing any darkspawn that stood in their way. Alistair cut down the last hurlock between us and Wynne, and she hurried to kneel by Zevran’s side and started to heal him. Her mages and Morrigan formed a protective barrier around them, but we were still hard pressed to hold them off. Meanwhile the Archdemon raged on, diminishing our forces.

Somewhere out of my field of vision a door was slammed open.  
“Control their numbers! Cut them off from the Wardens!” Teagan’s voice boomed across the battlefield. Redcliffe knights poured out from behind him, immediately joining the fray and cutting off the mass of darkspawn pressing our line.

Teagan was alive, and he seemed to be alright. His added force helped us regain the upper hand. In the meantime Zevran regained consciousness. It was enough for now, he was alive and breathing, protected by mages and knights while Wynne mended his wounds. The knights of Redcliffe provided a much needed reprieve, but that would only last so long. I turned my attention to the Archdemon, which crushed a Dalish warrior under a claw and breathed fire at a line-up of archers with a roar.

I crossed the last of the distance between the Archdemon and myself. It watched me with jet black eyes, and roared a challenge. Rows of crooked, razor sharp teeth were dripping with blood which evaporated as it spat a plume of blighted fire.

I didn’t wait for it to finish its display. I ducked under its chin when the Archdemon turned its head back to me, cutting at the skin just above the hollow of its throat. It made for some impressive bleeding but it was far from a lethal blow. I stepped between its front legs, and lodged one of my rapiers into the flesh just above its elbow. A twist and a yank with my bodyweight behind it, and I cut through scales, flesh, and hopefully, nerves. The wobble of the front leg told me I probably had.

I rolled to the side to escape from getting stomped on, and cut at what I hoped was the Archdemon version of an Achilles tendon. The scales were tick there, and it took me several slashes to get at anything that would impede the Archdemon’s movement. A gust of wind from its torn wing send me stumbling back. The wing wasn’t in any state to fly with, but it could still be used for attack. I went for the wing next.

The Archdemon flapped its torn wing to keep me away from it. So I used the hindleg it was dragging as a ramp, scrambling up its hip using my rapiers as anchors. Sharp scales cut through the leather covering my forearms and my leggings as I climbed the useless leg, the Archdemon shook and struggled to throw me off, but I grit my teeth and held on. When the opportunity arose, I jerked my rapiers free and leapt at the wing I was originally after. I tore through the membrane with my blades, shredding the wing further. I broke my fall with a quick roll, and lashed up at the wing again as I rose to my feet.

The joint was too high up to reach, but I got some of the remaining membrane. I cut at its belly next, lashing until I got through the scales and into the blighted flesh beneath.

Alistair had dropped his shield, and replaced it with a dagger. He stabbed and climbed his way up the Archdemon’s hip like I had done. His plate armor and the chainmail underneath protecting him from the sharp edges. Determined to get to the joint of the wing I had shredded, he kept climbing while the Archdemon struggled. I rolled away from a wild swing of the Archdemon’s good front leg. Unable to keep itself up on its wounded limb, the Archdemon bucked and fell on its side.

Alistair was thrown off by the impact. The Archdemon flailed and rolled to get its legs back under itself, twisting its neck to look at where Alistair had fallen. A fall from a high place is hard to break in plate armor, the added weight alone was enough to make the fall _hard._ But the restrictions in movement that came with plate armor made it even more difficult to fall _right._

Unarmed, Alistair was staggering to his feet. I saw the Archdemon spread what remained of its wings just slightly, and open its maul to breathe fire at Alistair. And I was on the wrong side.

I lurched at the Archdemon’s exposed neck, plunging both of my rapiers between the scales. The Archdemon shrieked and shook its head wildly when an arrow pierced one of its eyes. In my struggle to hold on to my rapiers, now slick with blood, I didn’t see Zevran make an obscene gesture at the shrieking and raging Archdemon before nocking another arrow. Neither did I see Redcliffe knights move in and rush to get Alistair to his feet and away from the Archdemon. Nor did I see him struggle and hear him shout for a weapon. I lost my grip and was flung away.

It was dumb luck that I crashed into a broken tower wall and didn’t tumble off of Fort Drakon altogether.

I went down, smacked to the ground among falling rocks and rooftiles. A searing pain told me something had hit my shoulder, and for a terrifying moment, I was unable to feel my arm. Then it blazed, whatever was damaged in my shoulder shot white, hot pain down my arm.

_Nerves,_ thought in a daze, _struck nerves._ I moved my fingers tentatively, gritting my teeth against the pain, I felt the stone beneath my fingertips as I brushed them over it.

_Still works._

I sucked in a breath and focussed on getting my bearings next, having no clue what was up or down in that moment. I was vaguely aware of skittering feet and clicking fangs as my vision swam while my brain tried to make sense of the stimuli of my surroundings. Then I felt the song in my blood, the burning of the Taint, and the shriek of the Archdemon. It all snapped back into focus.

I rose gingerly, on hands and knees first, looking up to see Alistair yank a broad sword from a corpse and shaking off the last of the Redcliffe knights. He charged the Archdemon, staying on its blind side. Meanwhile the creature blasted one of the Redcliffe knights that went after Alistair with fire. He disappeared from my vision when he reached its flank, but from the howling roars, I had a pretty good idea of what Alistair was doing.

I spat out a mouthful of blood and dust, growled, and rose. I felt for the bolt that was still in one of my rapier’s sheaths, and pulled it free. The Archdemon was still spitting fire and using its remaining useful limb and tail to fend off its attackers. It was _still_ killing people, good people, fighting for their homes and families. For honour, duty, for _survival_. To survive this Fade-fucked monstrosity that would _never_ stop destroying everything in its path.

Enough. I was _done._ Pitch black rage took over, burned away the pain of my injuries and the exhaustion of the battle.

Then I was moving, sprinting, leaping over corpses, up on the battlements, across broken walls. I flew, feeling the fire inside burn hot and high, fuelling my battered body. If anything stood in my way, I was unaware of it as I struck it down. Something in the back of my mind was howling. A feral and liberated feeling emitted from it. Bloodlust. I hurled the bolt at the Archdemon, striking it just behind the jaw.

I jerked a longsword from a corpse mid-dash and charged forward, cutting into the Archdemon’s throat as it lowered its head after the impact of my bolt. I skidded to a stop with the sword still lodged into the creature’s throat. I left it there, the Archdemon’s own weight pushed it in to the hilt as it dropped its head to the ground. I twisted away from under it, and yanked the bolt, still lodged behind the Archdemon’s jaw, free after using it as a step to climb onto the Archdemon’s neck. I raised it high above my head, and roared when I brought it down with all my might.

It breached the base of its skull, sliding in deep after breaking scales and bone. The Archdemon twitched, and stilled.

Bright light poured from the Archdemon’s wounds, enveloping it as it slowly bled out along its pointy scales. It soared up the bolt I was still holding, crept through my fingers, and up my arms and wrists. I gasped at the pain, it was as if a hundred hot knives were carving its way through my flesh to envelop me in the same burning light that was taking the Archdemon.

No. No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t taking the Archdemon, it was breaking free from it.

Someone screamed. I didn’t recognise the agonised wail, though I was vaguely aware it must be my own. The light had reached my neck, creeping up along my jaw to the corners of my mouth and eyes. Into my ears, down my throat and into my centre. I struggled to break free, to let go of the bolt. My muscles didn’t obey. I was dying. The light had completely taken me now too. It pulsed, almost tentatively.

_No!_

It came from somewhere deep inside. Somewhere not even this invasive light could breach. It was the same howl in the back of my mind that had broken free when rage had fully taken over. The implacable part of my being that had refused to break, the part that had spoken when I decided to go kill an Archdemon in front of Flemeth’s hut in the Korkari Wilds. Something ferocious, manic, and indomitable. It swelled, clenched, and broke free.

And then there was nothing.


	56. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I was going to leave you hanging, did you? Oh yeah, I'm switching the POV, you'll see why.

The soft glow of morning cast rays of golden light through thick curtains of dusk red velvet. Alistair lay staring at the ceiling.

After he’d collapsed, Teagan had called for healers. He had lost consciousness, then. Whatever had happened between hitting the ground and waking up with a monstrous headache and his wounds already treated, Alistair could only guess. He had tried getting up. Made it as far as the hall before one of the guards spotted him and had called for a healer.

He had waited a few minutes after they had taken him back to his room and urged him to rest, and then he had tried a second time. After the third, Teagan had decided Alistair needed someone to watch him. He had protested, demanded to know what had happened to her. He had shouted, cursed, threatened, but none of his questions were answered. He wasn’t allowed to see her, and he wasn’t allowed to leave his rooms. Now Sten was sleeping in a chair at his bedside, and Asher had curled up on the bed next to him. Alistair scratched the dog’s ear absently, going over what he remembered in his head.

She had killed the Archdemon, then there was a bright light and she screamed. He felt goose bumps rise on his skin remembering the sound of it. That _she_ was the source from which that terrible howl had originated. It had carried the jet black fury that slept beneath the surface. That thing that had compelled her to murder Rendon Howe. He had caught glimpses of it before, when she thought he wasn’t looking. She had shown it to him willingly for the first time when she had killed Howe. He was certain he heard it when the light had swallowed her.

Then there had been a flash, the force of it had swept them all off their feet. He found her lying sprawled on the bloodied stone, like she had been thrown. Loose waves of raven hair covering her face, obscuring it from view. She had been limp in his arms when he had gathered her up. Unresponsive when he called her name and brushed her hair from her face.

Wynne had been by his side then, and Zevran. Morrigan had vanished, as she had promised she would. Now Alistair had no way of knowing if the ritual had worked. Wynne had said she felt a faint pulse, she had still been alive. So why wouldn’t they let him see her now? Asher’s presence was somewhat comforting. He had asked Sten what he knew, but all the big Qunari had to say was that Wynne was with her.

He had also reminded Alistair that he would tie him to the bed if he tried to leave again, and Alistair believed he could. He was hurt, his shoulder throbbed, his head throbbed even harder, and he had several broken ribs. Numerous bruises, burns, and cuts added to his discomfort, they made it difficult to move, even with elfroot. Wrestling three-hundred pounds of Qunari seemed like a bad idea at the moment.

So he bided his time, gave his body time to heal. Albeit grudgingly. His thoughts kept wandering to her, to Fela. The woman who had slain the Archdemon. Raised an army, and had overthrown a man who called himself King.

Alistair sometimes still felt like he was just along for the ride. But she seemed to see something in him, she believed he would be a good King. It still baffled him at times, how a woman like _that,_ highborn, powerful, intelligent, and beautiful, saw something in _him._ And sometimes she even made him believe it. On top of that, she seemed attracted to him like a moth to a flame.

In the beginning he thought it was because he was the only other Grey Warden. But then she started making an effort to know him, she listened to what he said, because she was genuinely interested. And he had started to hope… He had expected rejection, instead he found encouragement. She confided in him, trusted his judgement, welcomed his affections and returned them. If she died…

He pushed the thought away. Fela trusted Morrigan, and he trusted her. She was alive. She _had_ to be. Her soul… She didn’t believe in the common concept of the soul, that it was something separate from the corporeal body. But Alistair did. He had to believe her soul was intact, that her essence was unharmed.

He spent the rest of the early morning brooding. Going over events in his head over and over again. Looking for ways to make himself believe she would be alright. She was alive. She had to be.

* * *

Zevran sighed and blew a leaf from his hair as he gingerly climbed the vines that covered the wall below the balcony that would lead him to Fela’s room.

He was in no state to be climbing walls, he should be resting in the sun sipping a cup of Antivan brandy while chatting up a pretty girl, or a pretty boy, Zevran wasn't choosy.

He frowned, what was Teagan thinking? No one was allowed into her room but Wynne, and nobody could tell him if she was alright, not even Alistair was allowed to see her. If Wynne was constantly in there with her, she probably wasn’t. But he was fairly certain that meant his Ferelden Rose still lived. Healers don’t tend the dead at all hours of the day.

Since Teagan refused to be helpful, Zevran had taken matters in his own hands. There was no Qunari watching _him._ It would do Alistair some good if Zevran could tell him his Queen was alive. And, hopefully, well. Zevran smiled a little, Alistair had given the palace staff quite a bit of trouble, trying to sneak from his rooms and find Fela’s, three times in one day. He would have to teach him how to sneak properly some time. For now, Zevran would break into Fela’s rooms, make sure she was still breathing, and tell Alistair he could let go of some of the worry.

Pity, Teagan had no interest in men, Zevran could think of quite a few ways to wrap the dashing Bann around his finger. Were he susceptible to such tactics from a man. He needed to let Alistair be with Fela, sharing her bed wouldn’t lead to any exertions just yet. Judging from Alistair’s state. Zevran believed the young King would rest easier if he could be at his Queen’s side. Those two were always stronger together.

He reached the balcony after twenty minutes of slow and careful climbing, and made his way over the balustrade. The doors were open, which was a nice surprise. It made this easier than expected.

Peering in, he could see his Warden’s shape in the bed. Wynne was reading in a chair next to her, looking like she had not slept since the battle. The old bitty was tough, Zevran acknowledged. Lyrium dragging, a forced march, fighting through a city and supporting the non-mages the entire time she was fighting darkspawn. Zevran was impressed. Not many old ladies could say the same. He wasn’t in ingrate or anything, he respected old ladies just fine. But he had seen Wynne do some things that had him looking at her with newfound respect. She had saved his life more than once with her healing magic, of course. And he knew her to be powerful, just not that she was _that_ powerful.

When Irving and his mages had joined them on top of Fort Drakon, Wynne had gone all out. No longer being one of only two mages in their company, no longer the only one who could heal them if they needed it. Didn’t mages have a finite mana pool or something? How huge Wynne’s must have been to fight so hard for so long. The lyrium helped, he had seen her use it before. But surely it wasn’t _all_ because of the lyrium. Zevran wondered, as he spied on Wynne, just how much there was he didn’t know about her.

“Pardon my forced entry,” Zevran said with a charming smile when he stepped into Wynne’s view, “I would have knocked and asked, but those palace guards won’t let me anywhere near these quarters. Not from their side anyway.” Her blue eyes flickered up from the book, and she clicked her tongue disapprovingly.  
“You want to know how she is doing,” Wynne said knowingly and glanced at Fela’s sleeping form.  
“Yes, I am concerned for the well-being of my friend,” Zevran replied curtly, “who also happens to be the woman who saved us all from a Blight and Ferelden’s next Queen. After all, she is an important person to many people, not the least of whom, is Alistair. They have Sten guard him now, because he kept trying to find her.” Zevran crossed his arms, “he worries. And so do I.”

Wynne sighed, she hadn’t agreed with Teagan to keep even their closest companions away. But she understood why he would do it. Zevran, however, did not. He crossed the room to stand by Fela’s bedside, gently brushing a lock of black hair from her lovely face. A dark bruise spread from her temple, and there were cuts, probably from getting covered in debris after being slammed into a wall. But she was breathing steadily, and looked to simply be asleep.

“Alive then,” he said quietly and sighed, “has she been awake?” Wynne shook her head. She had been watching the unconscious woman for two days now, she never once stirred.  
“She isn’t getting worse, but she isn’t getting better either,” Wynne replied, “I don’t know what happened when she killed the Archdemon, but she didn’t die.” And by all accounts, she should have.  
“So, comatose?” Zevran asked, and pulled up a chair to sit next to Wynne.  
“As far as I can tell, yes,” she replied.  
“Is she still in danger of dying?” he asked.  
“No,” Wynne replied, “no I don’t believe so.”  
“If that’s the case, what’s the harm in Alistair seeing her?” Zevran asked, “you realise he has been glued to her side for nearly a year, yes? He is climbing the walls.”

Wynne sighed again, Zevran would find out on his own anyway.  
“Grey Wardens,” Wynne said, relieved she was finally able to share the burden, “aren’t supposed to survive killing the Archdemon.”  
“And?” Zevran said with a shrug. As far as he was concerned, it was a blessing that she still lived, not a reason to isolate her.  
“When an Archdemon is slain, its essence will seek out the nearest Blighted creature. Darkspawn are soulless, so if the Archdemon takes one of them, it is reborn. This is the reason the first Blight nearly wiped us out, it would simply take over another body after being slain and carry on. But when a Grey Warden slays it, it will try and take over the Warden,” Wynne explained, Zevran’s jaw tensed a little when she told him the last bit.  
“Grey Wardens, are not soulless. And the body cannot hold two souls, so consequently, both souls are destroyed, and the Archdemon is dead for good.” Zevran watched her intently.  
“The Archdemon is certainly dead,” he said slowly, “we would have known by now if it wasn’t.” Wynne nodded.  
“I agree, and yet, Fela’s soul is not destroyed.” Zevran let out a sigh of relief, then realising the implications.  
“And neither is the Archdemon’s is it? So where did it go?”   
“We don’t know,” Wynne said, “all we know, that things have transpired differently from how they should have.” Zevran looked back at Fela, a tight knot settling into his stomach.  
“What does that mean for her?”  
“It means we need to be careful, we don’t know what happened when the Archdemon’s soul was released, we don’t know how this has affected her, we don’t know what still might happen,” Wynne replied. 

“What do you mean by ‘how this has affected her?’” Zevran asked in a low voice, not taking his eyes of the woman in the bed. Wynne’s face darkened a little as she considered the question.  
“There is no easy answer to that question,” she began quietly, “if a soul can be destroyed… it logically follows it can be damaged. If it can be damaged, it can be changed. Perhaps only by taking eliminating some aspect of it, perhaps not. The problem is, we don’t understand what happened, and we cannot afford to turn a blind eye. Not if it involves the soul of an Old God. Right now, Fela is the only source of information, our only link. That means we need to keep her safe.” And possibly contained.

Zevran gave Wynne a curious look, ‘keep her safe,’ could mean many things. It _implied_ many things, but none were spoken and none were certain. He didn’t like it. It made it feel like Fela was being considered a possible threat.  
“So,” Zevran said slowly, “you keep out the people she trusts, who would do anything to keep her safe, but you neglect to close and lock the balcony door. Which, I might add, is easily accessible by those thick vines growing on the outer wall.” Zevran clicked his tongue and arched an eyebrow, “does that mean you disagree on keeping people out?” Wynne gave him a sly smile.

“I am not one to oppose Bann Teagan, I am a healer.” Zevran returned the smile.  
“One who is aware of my current state, after saving me from bleeding to death atop Fort Drakon. And, who is aware of my particular skillset.”  
“Deplorable as I might find it,” she answered, “it has its uses.”

“So, what now?” Zevran asked, leaning back a bit and resting his feet on the side of the bed.  
“We wait, and try to convince Teagan to let at least Alistair and Magnus see her,” Wynne answered.  
“Why has Teagan given orders that no one is allowed in here anyway?”  
“He is trying to keep things under wraps,” Wynne replied, “so he ordered no one be allowed into her room, keeps the staff on a need to know basis, and has declared no one is to be allowed entry. To keep her safe from people asking questions we cannot give the answers to. He’s rather fond of our Fela.” 

Zevran thought about it for a moment. The Grey Wardens would certainly have questions. And Ferelden was currently weakened and half destroyed by the Blight and a civil war, vulnerable to an invasion. It wouldn’t be hard to spin events in such a way that an attack could be justified, if you are the Monarch of an adjoining country that once occupied these lands.

“Teagan is playing politics, hmm? I must say, in Antiva actions like his would immediately be taken as a sign of weakness,” Zevran said crisply.  
“He believes it’s what’s best for now,” Wynne said blankly. Not displaying any disapproval, but not agreeing with it either. Zevran was less inclined to defer to the Bann’s judgement. 

He leaned back in his chair, going over the political implications if the Grey Wardens, Orlais, or both had some sort of beef with the woman who saved Ferelden from a Blight and was to become its Queen. Not to mention what Alistair might do if someone tried to harm her. And then there were the common people, so fiercely loyal to her already, they had started revering her, calling her the Hero of Ferelden.

She was going to hate that name, Zevran already knew. His Ferelden Rose wasn’t quite comfortable being the centre of _that_ kind of attention.

And what would Zevran himself do, if there was truly an enemy out for blood? Would he remain by her side, or go out and kill himself some Orlesians? Warden or no. He looked down at Fela’s sleeping form again, watching her chest rise and fall gently with her breath. She was vulnerable, unable to defend herself. Without arms and armour, she looked small and delicate.

Of course, she always looked somewhat delicate. She had a grace about her, something that wasn’t in the etiquette and mannerisms of the nobility. A kind of predatory grace that bespoke her confidence in her ability to defend herself. In control and confident. But now, that delicate shape was still. Zevran glanced at the balcony, from which he had so easily slipped into the room without Wynne noticing until he announced himself. He would be here then, Teagan had acted fast, but not as thoroughly as he should. And he made the mistake of not including Alistair. He could be of more use to her here, Zevran decided, he would stay. Keep her safe. 

Zevran let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair.  
“Dearest Wynne, you should have informed Leliana and myself.” Wynne gave him a sharp look through narrowed eyes.  
“If you want to keep assassins and spies out, you need to think like them,” Zevran said with a shrug, “and you need to rest.”  
“I’m fi-”  
“No,” Zevran said sternly, “you are going to lie down on that bed right next to our Fela, and I will watch over you both. Then, when you’ve had at least a halfway decent rest, I am going to speak to a few people.” Wynne looked at him as if she was going to protest for a moment, then sighed and gave Zevran a slight smile.

“I was expecting some kind of inappropriate comment,” she said.  
“That can still be arranged, if you’d prefer,” Zevran replied slyly. Wynne rolled her eyes, but she moved to lay on the bed. She knew Zevran had suggested she sleep there because he knew she didn’t want to leave Fela’s side. She needed to be there if something happened. And she was exhausted enough to refrain from complaining. If she stayed awake for much longer she wouldn’t be any use at all. There was no sense in going delirious with sleep deprivation. So she lay down on top of the the sheets next to her sleeping friend, and let herself slip into the Fade.

* * *

Magnus was pacing his quarters like a caged animal.

No one could tell him where his niece was, and Teagan had been avoiding him. He spoke to the lad, Alistair, but he seemed just as much in the dark as he was. Magnus smiled a little when he heard the young King had tried several times to find her, ignoring his own injuries and Teagan’s urging that he should stay in bed.

He had asked the bard, the assassin, the Qunari warrior, even the drunk dwarf and the stone golem, Shale. None knew anything beside the fact that she had slain the Archdemon, and that Alistair had taken her to the healers before he collapsed himself.

He growled low in his throat. Something was going on, and it wasn’t anything good. And Teagan was an ass for not including him. He trusted the Bann enough not to worry that he might be an enemy. But he was more than a little angry that he was being kept out of whatever was going on. Fela’s companions felt the same, he knew. He was certain the Antivan would eventually go looking for answers. And Magnus knew him well enough to know he would probably succeed. If not, he pretty red-head would.

Unable to think of a way to pin down Teagan without actually pinning the man down physically, Magnus decided to visit Alistair. The lad could probably use a distraction from staring up at his ceiling, like he had been doing the day before. Magnus could use a break from pacing anyway.

He left his rooms and started down the hallway towards the royal quarters. People tended to move out of the way when Magnus approached, most did so because he was big and intimidating. Others because they knew him to be the Bann of the Storm Coast. And a few moved because they had seen what he could do on a battlefield during the battle of Denerim.

Magnus took stock of them all. An old habit, one he had developed during the rebellion against the Orlesian occupation. A war as long and bloody as that, you either learn to watch yourself, or you die. Especially with Orlesians, scheming and underhanded as they were. Magnus gave a polite nod to one of the servants, always make sure you befriend the people who serve your food, another lesson Magnus had learned during the Orlesian occupation.

Thing is, when you are a big and intimidating fellow, people tend to see you as a possible threat. They’ll dance around you, think twice before taking a swing. And most importantly, they will think you are stupid. An odd thing, but there it is. We rarely take a large man to be intelligent. It was an advantage at times, but it increased the chances of backstabbing techniques dramatically.

If you can’t match the bear’s muscle, you poison it. Simple as that. Magnus didn’t really hold it against anyone. It wasn’t their fault they weren’t as big and strong as him. And when you thought your life was in danger, well, you would do whatever it took to survive, didn’t you?

Not that Magnus was the kind of man who threatened people’s lives regularly, he befriended people rather than make an enemy out of them. As was his preferred method. For a berserker, he wasn’t a particularly violent man. Perhaps because there was simply rarely a need for him to get violent, people rarely gave him a reason to. Rarely attacked him openly. So, the preferred peaceful method was the primary one. But that didn’t mean Magnus assumed he had nothing to worry about. He was always careful. You don’t get to be as old when you’re not careful.

Magnus nodded to the guards and knocked before entering. Much as he had been expecting, Alistair was staring at the ceiling.  
“Morning,” Magnus rumbled, “what’s with the babysitter?”  
“To make sure I don’t try to get out of bed again and exert myself,” Alistair replied evenly without moving his gaze from the ceiling.  
“Heard anything about Fae yet?” Magnus asked.  
“Nope,” Alistair replied blandly.  
“Yeah, me neither,” Magnus answered and looked at Sten. Stoic as the big Qunari usually was, the slight twitch of his jaw spoke volumes. He had heard Sten call Fela Kadan, an honorary title for close friends and loved ones. A title not lightly given.

“What about you, they share anything with the babysitter?” Magnus asked him. Sten shook his head.  
“No.”  
“So why are you two moping instead of putting the thumbscrews on Teagan?” Magnus asked and crossed his arms.  
“Teagan’s orders,” Sten said with a shrug.  
“Teagan, is Bann of Rainesfere, Alistair, is King of Ferelden,” Magnus said pointedly.  
“And the King of Ferelden is currently barely able to walk to the privy on his own,” Alistair answered, finally turning his gaze from the ceiling and towards Magnus, “but he is certainly open to suggestions.”

“Summon Teagan and order him to tell you what’s going on,” Magnus said simply.  
“I tried that, he wouldn’t budge, just kept telling me everything was fine,” Alistair replied wryly, “I may be a bit high on painkillers but I’m not stupid.”  
“I talked to your friends,” Magnus said, “all but the mages. Do you have any idea where they are?” Alistair gave Magnus a flat look.  
“Morrigan took off, don’t know where or why, don’t really care,” he lied, “Wynne is supposedly with Fela. Because everything is ‘fine,’ of course.” Magnus frowned.  
“Tell me what happened at Fort Drakon,” he said with a sigh and pulled up a chair.

Alistair propped himself up on a pillow, careful of his broken ribs. He told them about how Fela took the final blow, how the light had swallowed her and how she had screamed. How he had carried her down the steps of Fort Drakon, how afraid he had been, and still was, that she might have been dying. He told about them waking up, not knowing where he was. He had stumbled his way from the bed to the hall to find anyone who could tell him where Fela was. After asking around some more, he had just started trying several doors and checking inside when none of the guards or servants could tell him anything. He had stumbled into Teagan while he was doing just that, and had argued with the man. Then he had asked a servant to try and find out where she was, but the girl had found no answers among her colleagues. After the third round of checking rooms, Teagan had decided to ask Sten to watch him. Asher had come with the big Qunari warrior, Sten had been taking care of him for Fela. He had tried to get the dog to try and find her, but Asher had no way of telling him where to find her unless he took him there. And sneaking wasn’t Alistair’s strong suit at the moment. And Sten was watching, so that didn’t work.

A knock interrupted Alistair’s retelling of events.  
“Come in,” he said a little surprised. He smiled when Zevran swaggered into the room and took a seat next to Magnus and put his feet on the bed.  
“I must say, you are looking better, amigo,” Zevran said with a wink and he folded his arms behind his head as he leaned back.  
“Thank you, I suppose,” Alistair replied, “what brings you here?”  
“Ah, yes. I have some news for you,” Zevran answered, “first, Fela is alive, but she has not woken up since the battle. Wynne is watching over her at the moment.”

The other men, and the dog, all let out a sigh of relief.

“That’s my girl,” Magnus whispered, “tough little lass. Is she going to be alright?”  
“I feel I owe it to all of you to give you the honest answer, though I wish I could give you a more satisfying one, we don’t know if or when she will wake up. We don’t know what happened when she killed the Archdemon, but it did something. And we have no way of knowing if it’s good or bad. Wynne told me,” Zevran said clearly and honestly. It wasn’t what he wanted to tell them, but he felt it was only right to be brutally honest. It seemed to be appreciated, even though the message had been grim.

“Where is she?” Alistair asked quietly.  
“Western tower, fourth floor, third room on the south corridor,” Zevran replied.

Alistair closed his eyes for a moment, relieved at finally getting a straight answer. At the same time, an ice cold knot settled in the pit of his stomach. Fela was alive. He knew where she was. But she wasn’t alright, there was something wrong. He sat up.

“Mind getting me some pants?” he asked Sten and the Qunari got up without a word to do as Alistair asked. Zevran smiled broadly and looked at Magnus.  
“You’re coming too.”  
“Damn right I am,” Magnus replied, “took you long enough to find her and come get us.”  
“Wynne needed a rest, I watched over them both while she got some thrice earned sleep,” Zevran replied with a shrug, “the lady is old, and she’s been awake longer than any of us.”  
“Mages, right?” Magnus rumbled.  
“A peculiar kind, aren’t they? Our Wynne has some serious vigour,” Zevran replied.  
“She’s something alright, do you know anything about that girl from the Wilds? Morrigan?” Magnus asked. Zevran shook his head, but it was Alistair who answered.  
“She left, as they agreed she would. But they parted on good terms, Morrigan would never do anything to hurt Fela.”

The comment took the other men, and the dog, off guard. They turned their heads towards him in varying degrees of surprise.  
“I was under the impression you had a great dislike for the swamp witch?” Sten said with a raised eyebrow.  
“I do,” Alistair replied, “but Fela and Morrigan are very close. You were there when Fela fought Flemeth for Morrigan, weren’t you? And Morrigan has saved Fela’s live back at Ostagar. I don’t like her, but I don’t believe Morrigan would do anything that would harm her. Not on purpose.”  
“What does that mean?” Zevran asked pointedly.  
“It means we don’t need to worry about Morrigan,” Alistair replied and ended the line of inquiry.

That didn’t mean Zevran didn’t file away that bit of information though. Too bad there was no way for him to track Morrigan. The woman could turn into a bird, or a wolf, or whatever. How do you track that? Besides, she was too smart to let herself be seen by anyone in human form. If Morrigan wanted to remain hidden, she would remain hidden. It was why Alistair trusted Zevran would get nowhere if he thought Morrigan had answers for him. He had called her a sneaky witch thief once, because she was one.

Four men and a Mabari strode down the hall. Well, Asher and Magnus strode. Zevran was still wounded, and exhausted after climbing up to a fourth floor balcony. Alistair leaned heavily on Sten, his injuries still made it difficult to move around. So they weren’t particularly fast, but, the King, a huge Qunari, the even bigger Bann of the Storm Coast, a big walking chunk of Mabari muscle, and an Antivan assassin, were intimidating enough to cause people to give them a wide berth.

They had no trouble getting to the western tower, but then there were the staircases.

“I did not think this through,” Alistair panted somewhere halfway the second stairwell, “give me a minute.”  
“Should I pick you up?” Sten asked stoically.  
“I don’t think my pride could take it, or my broken ribs,” Alistair replied.

Without a word, Magnus stepped up on Alistair’s free side and gently pulled the younger man’s arm around his shoulders. Held up between Sten and Magnus, Alistair was half carried up the rest of the stairs. And they stopped for a while to let Alistair catch his breath before they continued. Magnus was pleased at how determined the lad was to get to his niece. It spoke well of him that he bit through the pain and exhaustion the moving around caused him.

When they finally made it to the south corridor, Zevran suggested he and Sten wait outside to let Alistair and Magnus go in first. Asher looked up at him with pleading eyes, promising to be calm and on his best behaviour if he was allowed to go see his mistress. Zevran relented, he had a soft spot for this particular dog, even if he reeked.

Magnus supported Alistair the rest of the way and into the room where Fela slept. Without being asked, he took the new King to the bed so he could lay down beside her. Asher padded to the other side and put his head down on the bed, licking Fela’s hand and giving a whine when she didn’t respond. Wynne greeted them quietly, squeezing Alistair’s hand gently and giving him a warm smile.  
“It’s good you’re here, son,” she said and moved to pull up a chair for Magnus. Alistair didn’t pay attention, his eyes were on the sleeping woman beside him.

She looked to be asleep, breathing steadily. A deep purple bruise bloomed from her temple, spreading to her cheekbone and disappearing under her hairline. Small scratches and scrapes adorned the bruising. Her arms were bandaged, the wounds had been sustained while she climbed the Archdemon. Alistair remembered how bloodied her arms had been when he picked her up, it had been dripping from her fingers. There had definitely been a lot of darkspawn and Archdemon blood, it made it hard to tell how much had been hers. He didn’t have a chance to take a proper look at the wounds atop Fort Drakon, her bracers and gloves had covered most of them.

But judging from the bandages and the pungent smell of healing poultices, they had been worse than he thought. He traced his fingers gently along the side of her face. Warm, but not too warm. No fever then. Her breathing was deep and steady, and her pulse was normal when he pressed two fingertips against the side of her throat. She remained unresponsive when he leaned over her to kiss her forehead.

On a whim, Alistair reached out through the Taint, searching for the tell tale pulses that marked her as tainted. The mark of a Grey Warden. It was there, but it seemed… far away somehow. Alistair closed his eyes focussing on the soft pulsing, shutting out all else and listening intently. It had not been faint like this before, he could pick her out on a battlefield full of darkspawn during the battle of Denerim. He should easily be able to sense her now, as she was the only tainted creature in the room. He wasn’t.

Alistair frowned, it shouldn’t be this faint, it shouldn’t feel like… a melody. A song? That was not possible. The only song he had ever heard Grey Wardens and other blighted creatures speak of, was the Archdemon’s. But this wasn’t anything like that, it wasn’t soothing and lulling you into a sense of complacency when you listened for it for too long. This was… beautiful, but not enthralling. It wasn’t invasive and malicious, it was soft and gentle.

How could that be? Was it really the Taint he was sensing? Could it be anything else? Alistair wasn’t sure. But it didn’t feel wrong, or corrupted. And yet it seemed so similar.

Alistair was startled from his thoughts when Magnus spoke.  
“Ah, look at you lassie,” he mumbled, cradling one of Fela’s small hands in his. The one Asher had licked.  
“Went through hell and back and ye’re still breathing. I couldn’t be more proud,” Magnus continued, “I understand the need for a two day nap, after all you’ve been doing this past year. It’s alright. We’ll be here when you wake up.” Alistair gave Magnus a tired smile before settling down on the pillow and looking back at Fela.  
“Listen to your uncle, love. We’re not going anywhere,” he promised and laid his hand over her free one. He gingerly moved a little closer to her so he could rest his head against her shoulder, careful of her injuries and his own.

He was going to stay right there until she opened her eyes. To the void with duty, he had sacrificed and lost enough already. Not her. Not Fela.

Asher curled up at their feet on the bed, resting his head on his front paws. After a few minutes, Wynne called Zevran and Sten into the room. They quietly took up positions on either side of the room. Sten near the door, and Zevran by the balcony.

Zevran had already sent a messenger to Leliana to inform Shale and Oghren of where they were. Teagan would be here soon, he would hear of five people going into the tower that no one was supposed to go into. He was counting on it. If Teagan wished to avoid them, they would make themselves unavoidable. Unless he intended to ignore the whole thing, but Teagan wasn’t that kind of man. He would be there soon, and then they could come up with some sort of plan or strategy. They would deal with whatever was going on.

Whatever it was...


	57. Awake, But Not Quite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets weird.

Everything hurt.

Fela woke up in a daze, curled up in a foetal position and stayed there for a while. A white hot pain radiated from her bones, bleeding through her flesh from the inside out. Unable to form any coherent thought, she whimpered and groaned at the pain. She didn’t wonder at being alive, didn’t ask herself what had happened. There was only pain.

It seemed to take forever to subside, or maybe she was getting used to it, she wasn’t sure. Slowly gathering enough of her wits to wonder where she was, she began to feel terribly exposed. Her eyes snapped open, wide and wild with alarm.

Where was she? There was grass beneath her, that was a start. Now she also knew which way was up and which was down. The grass was slightly damp, as if from morning dew. The sky above her was painted in the colours of twilight. It took her a second to register that she saw trees, old, with winding limbs that swayed back and forth with a gentle breeze. She could hear it between the leaves, and there was the sound of running water in the distance.

Slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position she looked around the small clearing. Not such a bad place to wake up, she had woken up in weirder places. Fort Drakon didn’t even make it to the top ten. A result from the night terrors she suffered as a child. And a few from excessive drinking at a later age.

Fela inspected her wounds, cuts on her arms and legs, some impressive bruising, a pounding headache, and a throbbing shoulder. She remembered being slammed into a wall, debris raining down on her. She gingerly flexed her fingers and toes, relieved that they all worked properly. Wounds would heal, bruises would fade, and pain would eventually go away. She was alright, she decided. Things could have been worse, considering what she had been doing before she passed out.

She was fairly certain she wasn’t dead. For some reason, it seemed to her that being dead also meant no pain. Pain was a sign of life. It didn’t make sense, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t feel dead and that was enough. She stood, slowly, carefully finding her balance on shaking legs. One small experimental step, another, two more, and a short stride ahead. She could walk, if she was careful. She probably wouldn’t get very far before she needed to rest, but she could probably find some water before then. Fela turned towards the sound of running water, and froze.

Behind her, _right fucking behind her,_ stood a high dragon.

Close enough to be within striking range. She stared up at it, as it stood perfectly still and just watched her. Only when it blinked, was she certain it wasn’t frozen or something. Why wasn’t it attacking? After a long, tense moment, curiosity slowly crept up on her. If the dragon wasn’t attacking, and had not done so while she had been moaning and whimpering on the ground, perhaps it had no intention to. At the moment at least.

She considered her options, running and fighting were out. Unarmed, wounded, and battle weary, she stood no chance against a high dragon. So that left her with… what exactly? The staring contest was quickly getting old, if the dragon wasn’t going to do anything, she’d rather be sitting than standing.

_Fuck it, I’m sitting._

So she shrugged and, without averting her gaze, she sat down on the grass and crossed her legs beneath her. She raised both eyebrows in surprise when the dragon did the same, flopping down on the grass.

_Well then, perhaps I have met the first reasonable dragon ever._

She cocked her head at it, and looked at its current sitting position. It was oddly similar to how Asher sat, butt on the ground and supporting himself on his front paws. It even went as far as to fold its claws and putting its head down on them.

Fela let out a throaty chuckle, how strange to see a creature she associated with chaos and destruction and be reminded of her dog. She must have gotten hit on the head harder than she thought. Not being able to think of anything that actually made any sense in her situation, she took a deep breath, and spoke.

“You’re not going to eat me then?” she said in the same manner as she would talk to Asher, “that’s a relief.” The dragon didn’t reply of course, but it blinked and studied her with curious eyes.

She almost let out another laugh, this was ridiculous, why was she chatting up a high dragon? That was just stupid.

And yet, it seemed to understand her words, or at least it seemed to understand she wasn’t a threat. It looked at her with intelligent eyes, orange, with a golden ring around the pupil, and iris where it met the eyelids. It was quite beautiful, scales varied from a deep copper, to near red and gold. The arc of its neck was graceful. And it had wrapped its tail around itself. Now all it needed was to start panting with its tongue lolling out and the insanity of it all would be complete. She was admiring a friggin’ dragon while she was alone, wounded, and unarmed. And the creature appeared to be _listening_ to her. Fela fixed her gaze back on the orange and golden eyes.

“You’re just as confused as I am, aren’t you?” she continued, “sorry, I have no idea what happened either. I was killing an Archdemon atop Fort Drakon before I woke up here. But you’re no Archdemon, and this definitely isn’t Fort Drakon.” Fela looked around again and looked back at the dragon with a shrug.  
“This place is much nicer than Fort Drakon anyway. So, what are we doing? I’m pretty sure you are the one at the top of the food chain here, what happens when you get hungry?” The dragon cocked its head at her, looking slightly affronted.  
“I’ll take that to mean you don’t plan on eating me later. Sorry for asking, but the previous dragons I met have left a bad impression, you’re not going to kill me anyway, are you? You’re not just repulsed by the idea of eating human flesh? As opposed to… whatever you eat.” The dragon put its head back on top of its paws with a sigh.  
“Well, if it means anything, when _I_ get hungry I don’t eat dragon either. Or human for that matter, I bet we taste awful, unless we’re marinated in wine I guess but I don’t see any wine here. Glad we got that out of the way,” Fela gave the dragon a lopsided grin, “pardon my manners, I’m not familiar with high dragon customs.”

The dragon somehow managed to look amused as it studied her with keen eyes.

“So where are we anyway?” Fela asked, “the Fade?” The dragon made an indifferent sort of noise, somewhere between a sigh and a grunt.  
“Right, how would you even answer that,” she replied, “how about one blink for yes and two blinks for no?” The dragon blinked.  
“Right, that works,” she said, “so, _are_ we in the Fade?” The dragon blinked.  
“Well, fuck.” The dragon raised an eyebrow.  
“I’m not supposed to be in the Fade,” Fela explained, “I should be in Denerim.” She sighed, “well, I suppose my body is still in Denerim.” She trailed off, staring into the trees behind the dragon.  
“I’m going to have to figure out a way to get back,” she said absently, “I don’t even know where to begin.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head. Was it possible she was just sleeping? She hoped so, because that meant she could wake up, if she could figure out how. Her thoughts wound their way to Alistair, _Maker,_ she hoped he was alright.

A hand on her shoulder startled her from her revelry. Forgetting the pain caused by her injuries, she jerked up to her feet, her hands moving to find weapons that weren’t there.

A young man looked at her with wide eyes, startled by her reaction to his touch.  
“I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I- I didn’t mean…” Fela relaxed a bit, the shift in her shoulders bespoke the tension leaving her muscles.  
“No, it’s ok. I’m sorry for reacting like that,” she said quickly, “I’m just… jumpy, I guess.”  
“Why are you jumpy?” he asked.  
“It just sort of grew on me after fighting for my life every single day for a year,” she replied, “things are pretty bad back at… the world, I guess.” A flash of guilt crossed the man’s face. Fela looked at him curiously, then looked back at the dragon. Which wasn’t there anymore.  
“What the…” she mumbled and looked back at the man in front of her.

Amber coloured eyes looked back at her, _the same colour as Alistair’s,_ she realised with a shock.

“You’re…” he looked like him, the same jawline, and the same hair, though it was a deep brown.  
“Urthemiel,” he answered quietly.  
“Urthemiel,” Fela repeated slowly, tasting the name on her lips. She knew his name, she had always known it but never spoken it out loud. From the day she submitted herself to the Taint, she had felt his presence. She stared at him with wide eyes and took a step back.

“I killed you,” she whispered. He nodded.  
“Yes.”  
“You- your soul,” she stammered.  
“Is intact,” he finished.  
“And mine?”  
“Is intact as well,” he answered. Fela let out a desperate breath before giving a manic chuckle.  
“Well, this is awkward.”

“Awkward?” he asked, “why?”  
“Well, I killed you, you tried very hard to kill me, and you are the son of my lover and my apostate friend,” Fela said with a helpless grin, “oh, and you’re an Old God and a dragon too. I’m a mere mortal, this is all quite beyond me.”

Urthemiel gave Fela a befuddled look. Of all the possible ways he had expected her to respond, none had been even close to this.

“I wouldn’t say _mere_ mortal,” he said and smiled a little.  
“But mortal nonetheless,” she replied, returned his smile and extended her hand, “you can call me Fela.” Urthemiel gave her a curious look, then reached out to touch her hand, unsure of what to do.  
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispered, remembering what had happened when he had been released.  
“I know, it’s ok,” Fela replied, “I know you didn’t mean to.” His fingers entwined with hers.  
“I’m sorry I hurt you too,” she said, “but…”  
“I wasn’t in control,” Urthemiel said, “you did what you had to do. I am glad you ended it, you freed me.”  
“I could have destroyed you,” she answered.  
“And in doing so, I would have destroyed you too,” Urthemiel replied, “I’m glad you didn’t let that happen.” He offered Fela his other hand to entwine his fingers with hers like the other, “why didn’t you?”

“Honestly? I didn’t want Alistair or myself to die,” Fela confessed. Urthemiel considered that for a moment, she didn’t understand enough of what she did to know what she had given him. It didn’t matter that she had been selfishly motivated, her choice had given him another chance. He would be reborn, free from the corruption and the Blight. She had ended his suffering.

“When you struck the killing blow, you released my soul. I expected to be drawn to you, to be forced to destroy us both. But it wasn’t so, I didn’t understand,” Urthemiel spoke quietly, staring at Fela’s delicate hands in his. Delicate hands caked in blood, copper under her fingernails.  
“I will be reborn, untainted, pure,” he continued, “you _saved_ me.”  
“It wasn’t just me, Morrigan, your mother, came to me before the battle. It was her that made it possible for both of our souls to come out of this whole. And your father, Alistair,” Fela said as she studied Urthemiel.

The more she looked at him, the more she saw of Alistair in him. There was a gentle kindness in him, something that made her trust him. The Old God that was once the Archdemon.

“Alistair,” Urthemiel mused, “I like that name. Protector of men.” He looked back up to meet Fela’s eyes.  
“I wonder what name mother will give me.”  
“As do I,” Fela replied.  
“Will we meet? After I am born?” he asked. Fela shook her head.  
“I don’t think we will. I promised Morrigan I would not follow her.”  
“Perhaps we will cross paths, one day,” he said, “much is uncertain about you.” Fela gave him a small smile.  
“The last time I heard someone say that, I ended up stopping a Blight.” He returned her smile.  
“I believe it will be a while before the next Blight.”

“I’m glad,” Fela said, “that I got to see you as you truly are. I mean, it’s nice to know you’re like you are now. It’s… I understand now, you are not what that Archdemon was. You’re good.”  
“Good?” Urthemiel asked. Fela gave him a small knowing smile.  
“Yes, I think you’re good. You always were, I suspect, but the Taint drove you mad.”  
“How can you know?” he asked, staring back at the blackest eyes.  
“I _see_ you. I don’t fully grasp what you are exactly, a presence of sorts. The dragon is just one of your shapes, you need it to manifest yourself so you can interact with the Fade. Next time you meet a mortal though, I suggest you take the human form right away, we tend to be afraid of high dragons,” Fela replied with a lopsided grin. Urthemiel chuckled.  
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He released his fingers from hers to cup both of her hands in his palms.  
“You’re a strange one,” he said, “you see things you shouldn’t be able to. Why is that?” Fela shrugged.  
“I don’t know.”

Urthemiel looked at her thoughtfully. No _mere_ mortal indeed. Urthemiel was intrigued. What else could she see?

“So, how do I get out of here? How do I wake up?” Fela asked, looking up at Urthemiel. He shook his head.  
“I am uncertain, it’s not me that is keeping you here.” Fela bit her lip, thoughtfully staring up at Urthemiel’s features.

“You look like him, you know. Like your father,” she said quietly, “is this what you will look like when you grow up?” He nodded.  
“Most likely. I am not even an embryo as of yet, so I don’t have a corporeal form. This is an interpretation of what I will grow into.”  
“The girls will go mad for you one day,” Fela replied, “I know they do for your father now.”  
“Why would they go mad?” Urthemiel asked, “is there something wrong with this form?” He looked at himself with a critical eye causing Fela to chuckle.  
“You’re handsome, is what I meant. Women will be attracted to you because of that. Men too.”  
“Attracted to me,” he repeated with a thoughtful look, “because I’m handsome. These are good things?”  
“They are if you want them to be,” she replied.  
“Oh,” Urthemiel said and seemed to think it over once more, “how do I do that?”  
“Be kind to people, treat them fairly, that’s all,” Fela replied, “looks don’t matter all that much, it’ll just make people a little more likely to have a positive reaction to you. But that won’t last if you’re unkind.” Urthemiel nodded.  
“I see. Is that why you reacted positively too?”  
“It’s probably a part of it. But you forget I saw you in the form of a high dragon first, that was pretty intimidating,” she replied.

Urthemiel chuckled.  
“Sorry, I didn’t think that through.”  
“Don’t worry about it, you’ll learn how to human when you’re born,” she snickered and squeezed his hands before breaking the contact.  
“I wasn’t expecting you to take all of this with such easy stride,” he said curiously, “why aren’t you afraid, or angry?”  
“I’m actually pretty freaked out,” she replied, “but I’ve been pretty freaked out for over a year now and I’m also curious.” He seemed to consider her words for a moment, as if trying to figure out what she had said. It was much like the look given to you if you speak in a language the other doesn’t understand.

“But why are you calm?” he asked.  
“You have yet to give me a reason not to be,” she answered, “but I don’t think you are going to.” He shook his head fervently.  
“No, I’m glad you’re calm. I am… curious as well, I want to know you, the woman who set free an Old God.”  
“I think I should like to know the Old God who will be reborn in nine months,” Fela replied, “maybe we can have a drink when you’re grown up and I’m old.” Urthemiel chuckled at that.  
“I would like that. But you need to wake up first.” Fela nodded.  
“Does that mean you’ll still be around after I do?”  
“It does,” he said with a fond smile, “I can keep the nightmares away for you. Until I’m born at least, I’m not sure what will happen after that.” Fela cocked her head.  
“How do you know I have nightmares?”  
“I have been keeping them at bay,” he explained, “they are… insistent. They tell me much about you.”  
“Like what?” she asked.  
“Resilience,” Urthemiel said, “resolve…” he looked thoughtful for a moment, “defiance, and sanguinity.”  
“Flattering,” Fela replied with a lopsided grin.  
“They also tell me of something nebulous, and hidden. I glimpsed it, I think, when I reached out to you. Shadows cling to you because of it, it darkens your eyes and your features,” Urthemiel continued, “you let it out sometimes, but you have an iron grip on it. There is potential in you.” 

Fela remained quiet for a moment, considering Urthemiel’s words. There was truth to them, there were times when she let something dark take over. Magnus referred to it as ‘letting the devil out to play,’ she had always considered it her version of going berserk because of that. Maybe it was more than that.

She controlled it, that much was true. Letting it out didn’t mean losing herself. She had done so when she had struck the killing blow, it had flared when the light engulfed her. It made her stronger when used well, but the price was high. It was often the source of her melancholy, snaking its way into her mind and taking away feelings of joy and happiness. It wasn’t like that all the time, she controlled that too. Most of the time.

She tired sometimes, like when the first night terror since years had occurred at camp. It wasn’t anything alien, it was hers, part of her being. She wasn’t whole without it, she knew. It wasn’t something that fed off of her, it just belonged. Even while under control, it was always present.

“Now who is seeing things they aren’t supposed to see,” she quipped, “I keep it hidden for a reason you know.” Urthemiel smiled.  
“Your secret is safe with me, even if I don’t understand why it’s a secret.”  
“You may have noticed I am a bit different from most people, and while that isn’t a bad thing, it can frighten people,” Fela explained, “there is no need for them to be frightened of course, unless they harm me or mine. It’s a little similar to being the only one to wear a really impressive looking weapon in a place where all others bear none. Whether you intend to use it or not, it will make people give you a wide berth, they’ll be afraid because you have something powerful and they don’t. Maybe they will try to find or make a weapon of their own. Others will try to be your friends because of it, but it isn’t true friendship if they do it out of fear or because they think they can make your power theirs. It’s easier to let them think you are just like them, for everyone really.” Urthemiel nodded.

“I think I see, appearing unthreatening avoids a lot of unnecessary trouble.”  
“Exactly,” Fela replied, “and to many people, different equals threatening. People fear what they don’t understand and what they can’t dominate. It’s our nature, we can’t stand uncertainty.”  
“Can you?”  
“Most of the time, but I’ll admit to being wary of threats anyway. I just try to roll with it,” she replied.

“Roll with it?” Urthemiel asked.  
“It’s an idiom, it means I calmly wait to see what happens and adjust as best I can,” Fela explained.  
“Roll with it,” Urthemiel mused, “like when you can’t avoid hitting the ground because you’re falling and you roll to break your fall?”  
“Kind of, not dying or getting hurt is certainly a large part of it,” Fela answered.  
“I like that idiom,” Urthemiel decided, “roll with it. I think that’s what I will do when I am born.”  
“It’s all any of us can do,” she replied with a smile, “and it’ll take you a while to learn how to walk,” she added with a smirk, “you’ll be doing a lot of rolling in the beginning.” She laughed out loud when Urthemiel looked shocked.

“You’ll be a baby, you know that, right?” she asked.  
“Well, yes,” he sputtered, “but I thought… they have arms and legs, don’t they? Why don’t they walk?”  
“Babies need to _grow_ and _learn_ ,” Fela replied, “you’re not coming into the world as some miniature adult.”  
“But how?”  
“Your mother will nurture you, teach you what you need to know,” she said reassuringly, “and when you’ve matured the human way, you’ll look back to it as being the easiest time of your life. But of course nobody can convince you of that when you’re young and all you want to do is grow up.”  
“That’s… impractical, how can I be sure mother will do all those things?” he asked, “what if she doesn’t?”  
“She will,” Fela answered, “it’s our way. All mothers care for their children, you’ll be fine with Morrigan. Safer than most, I’d bet. She’s powerful, and possesses knowledge few people even know is out there. She knows how to keep you safe.”  
“How can you know?”  
“I know Morrigan, I even made her promise to kiss the booboo’s.”

Urthemiel’s face twisted into something hilariously confused, and Fela couldn’t help herself. She laughed out loud while Urthemiel sputtered about kissing booboo’s and not understanding what that meant.

“Another idiom,” Fela hickuped, _“Maker,_ you’re adorable when you’re confused. How are you a high dragon? Never mind. Kissing the booboo’s means comforting a child when they have a small hurt, like a scraped knee or when they fall on their face or something. Mothers often kiss the spot where it hurts, and that helps. It might take her some getting used to, but she’ll be the best mom she can, I promise.”  
“And if I get a big hurt?”  
“She’ll make sure you heal and take care of you, but she’ll also be protecting you from getting a big hurt in the first place.” Urthemiel considered it, and nodded.  
“Alright, I’ll have a mom, I think that’s good.”  
“It is,” Fela agreed with a nod.

“Let’s go find a way to wake you up, we can speak of idioms and the tasks of mothers later,” Urthemiel said, and he took Fela’s hand to guide her towards the sound of flowing water.

She followed, she was starting to like Urthemiel. He didn’t quite understand hand gestures, she had observed that when she held out her hand for him to shake it and he had touched it a little awkwardly before entwining his fingers with hers. And while he spoke the common tongue, he was unfamiliar with idioms and figures of speech. He was also tender, making sure his touches were gentle so as to avoid doing anything that made her uncomfortable. Though he had obviously deduced that hand touching was ok, given how much time he had already spent holding hers.

Morrigan was going to have a blast.


	58. Reunited

Leliana had taken off in a huff.

To think that Zevran had decided to sneak into Fela’s rooms without her. She had been shadowing Teagan of course, but at least she had told Zevran about it. There were some Orlesian Grey Wardens in the castle, and they were a bit too insistent on speaking to the surviving Grey Wardens. Teagan refused of course, telling them to wait for the King and future Queen to recover. But the Orlesian Wardens seemed to believe that, as junior Wardens, Fela and Alistair should defer to their seniors.

Teagan had little patience for their attitude towards the people who had stopped the Blight, and none for the demands the Orlesian Wardens were making. They even demanded to speak to Eamon, who had been wounded in the battle and was still recovering, since Teagan wasn’t willing to grant their requests and they figured Eamon outranked him.

In the meantime Teagan had been working non-stop to assess damages, have corpses collected and burned, making sure medical treatment, food, and blankets were available for the civilians as well as the soldiers, setting up a quarantine for people who had gotten sick, and sending out parties to deal with straggling darkspawn. It pleased Leliana to see Teagan work so hard to clean up the mess and grant her companions some well earned rest, but he was stretched too thin. He needed to delegate.

She had been about to approach him to tell him just that when a messenger had run up to her. The messenger had said Fela was alive, and she was being asked to collect Shale and Oghren and come to Fela’s room. That meant the others were probably already there.

She had suspected Wynne had been there the whole time. And Alistair and Sten had probably been led there by Zevran. It made sense that he went to the young King first, she didn’t blame Zevran for that, and Sten had been watching Alistair so that explained how the large Qunari got there. The dog too, she assumed. Asher was either with Fela, Alistair, or Sten. Seeing as the first hadn’t been available and the other two had been in the same room, naturally Asher had been there too. Her friends were predictable that way.

She smiled, she had many friends now. After leaving Orlais and starting over in Lothering, she had lost most of her contacts, not to mention they were across the border. The Chantry had been a safe haven, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t lonely.

Then the raven haired Warden had come to Lothering. Leliana remembered it fondly. Fela had displayed some interesting behaviour. Smiling sweetly at the men that were addressing her so rudely, her guile nearly persuading the brutes to sit and have a drink with her, rather than hauling her off to Loghain and collecting the bounty.

Most of them had been simple men, their thoughts were short term. They acted in response to stimuli, but their behaviour got never got quite past the simplicity of sating their basic needs as quickly as possible, there wasn’t much else beyond that. Their leader however, wasn’t as easily distracted from his task. And when the beast wouldn’t eat out of her hand, she had beaten it into submission. Aptly.

Leliana rounded a corner, stepping into the inner courtyard. She had last seen Shale there, crushing birds. Judging from the number of bloody and feathery blotches, Shale had been busy. She found her observing a cat.

“Shh!” Shale hissed, “I am watching it hunt.” Leliana smiled and took the last few steps to Shale quietly.   
“That creature over there, with the fluffy fur,” Shale whispered, “it hunts birds.”   
“It’s a cat, a young one from the looks of it,” Leliana replied as they watched the red tabby bend its knees and take a quiet and careful step forward, its yellow eyes fixated on the pigeon eating from a feeder.

“A cat, it says,” Shale replied, “I believe I can learn to like these creatures.”   
“They can be quite delightful,” Leliana answered, “soft, warm, purring.”   
“No,” Shale emphasised, “it’s _hunting the birds._ ”   
“They tend to bring their prize home you know,” Leliana said with a small smile.   
“It would bring me dead birds?”   
“Yes, mice and the occasional frog too. I once had a cat who managed to take down a bat, unfortunately it wasn’t quite dead when she brought it home to me, it was a difficult target to shoot” Leliana replied and giggled. The red tabby closed in on the pigeon now, shaking the tip of its tail in anticipation of the pounce.   
“Distasteful,” Shale answered without taking her eyes off the cat, “but I can overlook it.”

The red tabby pounced, pinning the bird down for a brief struggle before it escaped, leaving a dusting of feathers around the cat. It sat licking its paws and staring after the escaped pigeon.

“Hmm, not quite successful,” Shale commented.   
“Well, it’s a small cat, and that was a big pigeon,” Leliana replied, “it’ll get better at it.”   
“I should hope so,” Shale replied, “did it need something?”   
“We found Fela,” Leliana replied, “she’s alive.” Shale nodded.   
“Good, take me to it.”   
“We need to pick up Oghren first, the others are already there,” Leliana answered and started walking. Shale followed.   
“It is probably still drinking.”   
“That’s why we are going to the guest quarters,” Leliana replied, “he’s either there drinking, or sleeping it off.”   
“I do hope it is still in a state to form full sentences,” Shale remarked dryly, making Leliana giggle, “I am not going to carry it.”   
“I think he’ll walk well enough once we tell him we are going to see Fela,” Leliana replied, “or waddle.”

As predicted, they found Oghren diligently working at drinking himself into a stupor.

“Ladies!” he called with a bright smile, “why dontcha come on over and have a drink with your uncle Oghren.” He patted his knee and wriggled his eyebrows.   
“I have a better idea,” Leliana replied.   
“Oh? Do tell?” Oghren replied suggestively and leaned forward on the table, putting his elbow in a bowl with honeyed nuts. They stuck to the fabric of his tunic when he lifted it out and he plucked one off to pop it into his mouth.   
“We found Fela, alive, are you coming?” Leliana answered and watched Oghren stagger to his feet and grab the bowl of nuts along with a bottle of brandy.   
“Lead the way lassie,” he said simply and waited for Shale and Leliana to start moving. He let out a greasy chuckle, “better view when the ladies lead.” Leliana sighed and rolled her eyes, as did Shale.

* * *

Zevran could hear the ruckus outside.

It sounded like Shale was simply picking up anyone who refused to let her pass and putting them back down where they couldn’t hinder her. He smiled, having a golem around was marvellous, especially since Shale had free will and had no problem picking up palace guards like they were children having a tantrum.

She was gentle of course, she wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose if they weren’t an enemy. But it was hysterical to see how people expected Shale to do as she was told and how they reacted when they realised she did whatever the hell she pleased. It wasn’t long until the noise was close enough to be noticed by the others and Sten rose from his chair by the door. Not long after that, they heard a polite knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Sten asked brusquely.   
“It’s us!” Oghren replied, “open the damn door numb nuts!”

Sten swung the door open and Oghren and Leliana swept in. Shale put down another guard that had been blocking the door and ducked her head to get through the door without banging her head into the door frame. She frowned.

“Why is it that each and every palace guard insists on trying to block my way? It should know it can’t.”   
“Trying to do their duty,” Magnus grumbled, “it’s nothing personal.”   
“Hmm, if it says so,” Shale replied blankly. Meanwhile Leliana and Oghren moved to the bed to check on their sleeping friend.

“Damn,” Oghren mumbled, “girl took a beating.” He gently ran his fingers along the side of her face where it was still a deep purple, “how about you, blondie? You don’t look so great.”   
“You should see the Archdemon,” Alistair replied indignantly, shifting into a sitting position. Leliana gave Alistair a brief and gentle hug before leaning over him and kissing Fela on her cheek.

“So, pretty crowded in here, huh?” Oghren said, “what are we going to do? Divide shifts or something?”   
“Getting right to the point,” Zevran replied, “I like it. Wynne, what do you think?”   
“Well, I assume Alistair isn’t going anywhere any time soon,” she looked at him questioningly.

“After climbing all those stairs in my condition?” he quipped.   
“More like being carried up all those stairs like a big sack of potatoes,” Magnus said with a chuckle, “though in your defence, you got pretty far.”   
“Right,” Alistair replied dryly, “either way, I’m not going anywhere.”   
“And I assume you lot all want to be here to watch over her?” Wynne continued after giving Alistair a nod. The reply she got was unanimous.

“Alright then,” Wynne said, folding her hands, “here is what’s going on. The fact that she survived is nothing short of a miracle. We don’t know how it happened, or if it did anything to her, but by all accounts, she should be dead. Grey Wardens have never survived taking the killing blow before. The reason for that is that the Archdemon’s soul, when its body is killed, will pass to the nearest tainted creature. If it’s darkspawn, it will take over the body and be remade, as darkspawn are soulless. Grey Wardens however, aren’t. A body cannot hold two souls, so, both souls are destroyed. But that isn’t what happened, her soul is still there. Leaving us with the question of where the soul of the Archdemon went.”   
“Old God,” Alistair corrected, “an Archdemon is an Old God that has been corrupted by the Taint. If you kill the Archdemon, _successfully,_ the soul of the Old God is freed. It was _made_ into an Archdemon, not created as one.”

Magnus arched an eyebrow.   
“How many Old Gods are there? And which one was this one?”   
“Both are good questions, but they will have to wait until later,” Wynne replied, “right now, we aren’t sure what happened to Fela when she killed the Archdemon, which is why we must be cautious.”   
“It hurt her,” Alistair said quietly, “we know that much from her screams.”   
“But did it damage her, apart from the wounds she sustained before killing it?” Magnus asked.   
“Not that I can tell, physically that is,” Wynne replied.

The questions and half answers continued while Alistair’s mind drifted off. Something had been changed, he could feel it through the Taint, and he knew where the soul of the Old God went. But he wasn’t sure how much he should tell them. What conclusions they would draw. And yet, the information could help. He took a deep breath.

“I don’t sense the Old God through the Taint anymore,” he began, interrupting the conversation, “as far as I know, it’s not here.” True, though he left out a lot. He frowned and bit his lip before continuing, “there is something else though.”

“Well? Spit it out,” Magnus urged when Alistair didn’t immediately elaborate.   
“Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn, as most of you already know,” he began, “it actually goes a bit further than that, we can sense any Tainted creature, be it a person that got sick, the Archdemon, darkspawn, or another Grey Warden, even blighted vegetation. We are all connected through the Taint, but the Grey Wardens are something of an odd man out. We don’t go mad, and we aren’t compelled to do as the Archdemon wishes like darkspawn are. Neither do we have any ability to control darkspawn or other blighted creatures. We aren’t soulless like darkspawn, and our minds aren’t being eaten away by the Taint like with someone who contracted Blight sickness.”

“Great story,” Magnus rumbled, “get to the point already.”

“Each tainted individual, be it darkspawn, Grey Warden, Archdemon, or blighted person, has a sort of… signature mark. Fela had a very distinct one, I could pick her out easily while we were cutting our way through Denerim surrounded by Maker knows how many darkspawn. Or maybe it’s just because I was used to her presence and learned to recognise it more easily…” Alistair drifted off.   
“Had?” Leliana asked.   
“Yes, _had._ I still sense her now, but it’s much weaker. And… different. Her presence through the Taint has changed,” Alistair explained.

Silence spread through the room while he let that sink in. He just confirmed something had changed, though it was something the others couldn’t notice. Not without becoming Grey Wardens themselves, and then it would still take a while for them to learn how to sense and distinguish individual sources. Wynne pursed her lips, thoughtfully staring at Fela’s sleeping form.

“What do you mean, precisely, what’s different?” she asked. Alistair took a moment to figure out how to answer that.   
“Well… first of all, when we reach out through the Taint to sense other tainted creatures, it feels like a vibration in the back of your mind. Little electric shocks, humming a pattern. Darkspawn tend to feel like simple buzzing sequences. The more complex and powerful the Tainted creature, the more complex the sequence. Fela, has been mastering the Taint at an accelerated rate. She could do things she shouldn’t have been able to do for at least another two decades. Like scoping out the entire military camp at Ostagar,” Alistair paused to give Wynne and Sten a meaningful look, “consequentially, her signature was a powerful and complex one.”

“And now?” Magnus asked impatiently.   
“Now, it’s faint, very faint. And it changed, it has gone from a powerful and complex pattern of vibrations, to a soft melody. It has turned to more of a humming, a humming melody,” Alistair replied.

Wynne’s eyes widened.   
“You don’t mean…” she covered her mouth with her hand.   
“What?” Magnus demanded, “you don’t mean _what?_ ”   
“When we were in the Deep Roads, when we met Ruck,” Wynne said carefully, “he said something about a song, the song that lured the darkspawn away. That song, he meant the Archdemon’s call, right?” Alistair nodded.   
“So, if Fela now gives off… a humming melody… after killing the Archdemon…” Wynne continued, and was interrupted by Oghren.   
_“Of course not you daft old bat,_ does she look like an Archdemon to you?” he rumbled and looked around at the stunned faces around him.

“What? it doesn’t take a genius to understand what she’s getting at. So Fae feels different to blondie, I don’t see anything that spells doom and damnation. Sure as hell doesn’t look blighted and sick like that Archdemon did, I ’been up there to have a looksie. That corpse and this living body have absolutely nothing in common.”   
“Well, technically there are some similarities,” Shale remarked.   
“Don’t get me started, Shale,” Oghren groused, “gotta draw the line somewhere, I draw it at scales, teeth like swords, huge claws, wings, a tail, and that goop that was oozing from it. I see none of that here.”   
“He has a point,” Zevran added, “but perhaps we are jumping to conclusions. Alistair? Does she feel… I don’t know… Archdemon-y? You are the only one who can tell this difference.”

Alistair shook his head.   
“No, the Archdemon’s song was beautiful but malignant and demanding. Hers is… soft and soothing, a little sad but sweet all the same. It’s not intrusive and commanding, like the Archdemon’s song was. It feels like… _her,_ ” he replied.

The room fell silent again, it was difficult for his companions to understand what he meant. They couldn’t hear it like he could, didn’t _feel_ it like he did. It was her, like she had always been. It was Leliana who spoke up and broke the silence.

“Could you… hum it for us?” That got her some weird looks.   
“Why?” Sten asked with a frown. Leliana threw her hands up in the air.   
“I don’t know, he is the only one hearing it right? I want to know what it sounds like, or how it feels, or _something_. Do you have a better idea?”   
“No,” Sten replied simply and looked at Alistair expectantly.

He closed his eyes and listened closely to the rise and fall of the melody he felt coming from the woman next to him. It took him a while to memorise and interpret the humming he felt into sound, but he got there eventually. The others listened to him begin to hum, falter, and restart a few times before he found the right tones.

“This is so weird…” Leliana whispered, “and beautiful. I think… yes, I think I know what you mean. It suits her,” she looked down at Fela fondly. And joined Alistair in his humming.   
“It’s going to write another song, isn’t it?” Shale remarked dryly before being shushed by Wynne and Magnus. They all listened closely to Alistair and Leliana’s humming, trying to make sense of what they were hearing. Magnus felt a strange kind of recognition upon hearing the melody that was apparently coming from his niece. It wasn’t any melody he had felt before, but he understood why Alistair had said it felt like _her._ He added his bass to Alistair’s baritone and Leliana’s soprano and smiled. The others exchanged questioning looks when Alistair suddenly stopped.

“What? What’s wrong?” Oghren asked, “I liked that tune.”   
“I just realised something,” Alistair said, “you guys know how she is crazy empathic right? Has a way of reading people?” He got some confused nods and impatient looks.   
“I think… I have felt it before, this melody, before the Archdemon died,” he said. Wynne arched an eyebrow.   
“When?” “In the Brecilian Forest, what she… when she… you know, did that thing she does when she looks at you and seems to gaze right into your mind. Like she did with Zathrian. And again when Loghain and Howe came to pay a surprise visit. I was watching her, I’ve been trying to make sense of what she does to pull information from people. I think this is a part of it.”

“The Taint?” Magnus asked with a frown, “that can’t be right…”   
“Why not?” Wynne asked.   
“Because I’ve seen her do it as a little girl, it creeped people out, made her a loner. That was long before she became a Grey Warden.”   
“Could it be possible the Taint enhanced it somehow?” Wynne asked and looked at Alistair.   
“I don’t know, I only met her on the day she went through the Joining,” he replied.   
“So why are you sensing it through the Taint now? Isn’t that what the question should be?” Zevran added.   
“Maybe it was always there, but the Taint makes it possible to perceive?” Leliana asked, “we are definitely not perceiving it through regular senses, maybe the Taint gives you a kind of sixth sense.”   
“If he’s sensing things you can’t pick up on with normal senses, that means it probably does, right?” Oghren added.   
“Yes but is what Alistair is sensing now related to the Taint or is it something different? if so, what other things can Grey Wardens sense?” Zevran thought out loud.   
“That, or maybe the Taint has affected what was already there, thus made it perceivable for those who carry it?” Wynne countered.   
“That’s what Leliana said,” Oghren retorted.   
“I mean, that whatever makes her able to read people like she does has been Tainted too, rather than just being made perceivable through the Taint,” Wynne explained.   
“Is she still Tainted?” Sten asked.   
“Yes, but her Taint feels different now,” Alistair replied.   
“But is it really the Taint? Or something else?” Leliana added.

“Alright!” Magnus shouted, “enough about what is and isn’t Tainted. You people are all over the place with your questions, write them down or something, and finish answering one before you move on to the next, Maker’s ass…” Magnus glowered around before continuing, “in conclusion, the way she… feels? through the Taint, has changed. Physically, she looks the same. And the melody feels similar to something Alistair has picked up when she did her soul gazing thing, or whatever. We are unclear as to how that relates to the Taint. She is alive, and her soul is still there. Agreed?” Magnus summarised. A chorus of assenting replies went through the room.

“Now, where do we stand on her prognosis, is she going to wake up?” he continued. Wynne shook her head.   
“Impossible to say. It could be the head injury, it could be exhaustion, or whatever happened with that light when she killed the Archdemon, or any combination. There is no sure way of estimating if and when she will wake up.”   
“Then we should get to making an indefinite visitation schedule or something, it’s far too crowded in here,” he concluded. Sten and Shale, who had been quietly observing the conversation both agreed with a grunt.   
“That brings us to the hush hush policy Teagan is currently enforcing,” Zevran said and leaned back in his chair to stretch, carefully.

They had just decided on a system of shifts that would be taken in pairs, with Shale working doubles, when Teagan swept into the room.

“Took you long enough,” Alistair remarked, “want to tell us what’s going on now?” Teagan frowned.   
“I should have known you people wouldn’t wait for long,” he answered, “no matter, you’re all here now. We have a problem.”   
“And what’s that?” Alistair asked.   
“Nathaniel Howe has been seen getting off a ship from the Free Marches in Amaranthine,” Teagan replied, “on top of that, I’ve been holding off two Orlesian Wardens that have been asking far too many questions for my liking. I was hoping to buy you a little time to rest,” he smiled a little, “but we’ll get into that in a moment. How is Fela?”

“Unchanged as of yet,” Wynne replied. Teagan frowned.   
“Any idea why she won’t wake up yet?” Wynne shook her head again.   
“I apologise, this has never happened in the history of the Grey Wardens, I am at a loss.”   
“No need to apologise Wynne, we’re all at a loss here,” Teagan answered.

Teagan briefed them all on what had been happening in the city and why he had been trying to keep Fela hidden. Why it was important that she stayed that way for now, and how he had been handling recent affairs.

“I can handle the Orlesians for you if you like? Forgive me, but you don’t seem to have the patience for the Grand Game,” Leliana offered, “I believe I can also track down Nathaniel Howe if you can spare a few of your best scouts.”   
“Thank you Leliana,” Teagan answered, “that would be wonderful. I have little in common with these dandies, but I wouldn’t want to burden you.”   
“Not at all my Lord,” she answered, “I enjoyed playing the Game in Orlais, in fact, I’ve missed it a little.” Teagan flashed a charming smile and gave her a thankful nod.

“And why don’t I take over seeing to the city for ya,” Magnus added, “you need to rest a bit and be with your family.”   
“Thank you Magnus,” Teagan said, “I could use your help with the state the city is in, we need to start rebuilding as soon as possible.”   
“You got it,” Magnus rumbled with a nod, “best to give people something to do, I’ll see to it.”

“I feel I am needed here for now,” Wynne said, “but when we know Fela is awake and well, I can assist with organising medical help.”   
“Anyone up for some darkspawn hunting? When we know she’s awake and well of course,” Oghren opted. Sten and Shale both gave a quiet nod, like two cranky statues.

“And my fabulous self, will serve as your personal body guard, indefinitely,” Zevran said with a careful bow towards Alistair, “or until I get bored,” he added with a wink, “then I shall find a different way to make myself useful. How about it perro?” he said and turned to Asher, “are we partners on this?” Asher replied with a gruff and wagged his tail. “Good boy,” Zevran replied, and leaned back in his chair.

“Well then,” Alistair said, “glad we could sort matters out. Thank you for your efforts Teagan, truly. I wasn’t aware you were doing so much for all of us, I apologise for my earlier behaviour,” he flashed a lopsided grin, “but please, just tell me what’s going on next time.” Teagan returned the smile.   
“Of course, your Majesty. I apologise for my poor judgement.” Alistair frowned.   
“Can we not do that? I don’t like that.”   
“Only in public then, Alistair,” Teagan replied with a wink, “I am your uncle and I wanted to take care of you lot, Maker knows you’ve earned a rest. I am an old softie, and I regret nothing.”   
“That’s more like it,” Alistair replied and leaned back with a sheepish grin, “now, I love you guys but I’d like a little privacy now. _Not_ _for_ _that_ ,” he added when Zevran grinned and opened his mouth, “for fuck’s sake man, she’s _asleep!_ Pervert. I want to take a nap.”   
“Might wake her up though,” Zevran quipped, “I know, I know, I am disgusting,” he added when Alistair shot him a glare and raised his hands in submission. “I’ll get out of your hair,” Zevran stood and grinned wider, “and keep watch on the balcony.” Alistair sighed and shook his head but didn’t protest. The others slowly trickled out after saying their goodbyes, finally granting Alistair a moment alone with Fela.

He turned and rolled on his side, carefully cradling her and humming the song that emanated from her. He pulled her close against him, she felt soft, despite the muscle she had built up in the last year. Soft and warm and perfect, and Alistair let himself drift off to sleep.

He didn’t notice when she stirred in her sleep, and crawled a little closer against him.


	59. Old God Logic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela and Urthemiel continue to bond, he sheds some light on Fela's peculiarities, though it doesn't really explain anything.

Fela smiled, she felt Alistair’s presence. She wasn’t awake yet, but she counted it as progress.

“Is that him?” Urthemiel asked as he cocked his head, “my father?”  
“Yes,” she replied, “we must be going the right way.”  
“He has a comforting presence,” Urthemiel noted, “he comforted you a lot, didn’t he? When you had nightmares?”  
“He did,” she replied with a nod, “I think I might have gone mad without him.” Urthemiel gave a thoughtful nod.  
“Protector of men… it makes sense, he seems to banish some of the nightmares that are clawing at you, even now.”  
“He’s my Templar,” Fela said with a shrug and gave Urthemiel a lopsided grin, “makes perfect sense.” Urthemiel chuckled.  
“A man of faith... isn’t that, what did you call it, awkward?”  
“Not really,” Fela replied, “he’s trained as a Templar, and he has their abilities, but he is by no means sworn to the Chantry. Why?”  
“You called me an Old God,” Urthemiel said, “I don’t imagine the Chantry likes the idea of any other deity but their own.”  
“Oh, yeah,” Fela chuckled, “that is kind of awkward. Good catch.”  
“I’m getting better, aren’t I?” he beamed.  
“Definitely, we’ll work on sarcasm next,” she replied.  
“I enjoy learning how to human,” he said happily.  
“And you are a delightful student,” Fela replied, “where are we going?”

“East,” he replied simply.  
“Why east?” she asked.  
“That’s where the sun rises,” he answered, like it made perfect sense.  
“Okay,” Fela replied, dragging out the first syllable, “I think you are using Old God logic again.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said, “we are going east because that’s where the sun rises, when the sun rises, morning has come, and you wake up in the morning.”  
“Ah, see, you make all these jumps. I get your line of thinking, but that’s not how humans typically reason, we like to make connections between things, but we tend to think in terms of causality. So, my line of thinking leans towards finding some object, or spirit, or whatever that will get us more information or a way out. Yours is very associative, you figure people wake up in the morning, so you go in the direction of the morning,” Fela explained.

“That is tricky,” Urthemiel said, “your way of thinking doesn’t offer a direction.”  
“I know,” she answered, “we are idiots like that, it’s why we keep making the same mistakes and run around in circles so much.”  
“So, you think people need to learn to use different ways of thinking?” he asked.  
“It could offer many new perspectives,” she answered, “I probably still would have been investigating that clearing and coming up with nothing without you. I’m not saying one is better than the other, but I think we could benefit from learning to use both.”  
“Does that mean that you assume this is the right direction?” he asked.  
“I have absolutely no idea,” she replied with a bright smile.

“Are you still expecting to find something that will tell you more?” he asked.  
“Sure, perhaps not on how to wake up, specifically. But anything is better than nothing,” she answered.  
“So, you are just going along with it,” he concluded.  
“Correct,” Fela replied.  
“Good enough,” Urthemiel answered with a smile, “is it a human thing to do? Going along with it?”

“That entirely depends on what you are expecting people to do and what situation they are in. People have some sheepy tendencies but we can be stubborn as a mule,” she answered.  
“Can you give an example?” he asked.  
“Hmm, well, if the majority of people are, for example, ignoring a dying man in the street, the others are more likely to do the same. But should you ask a man to buy his daughter, he is _not_ going along with that. Assuming he is a good father, some fathers might actually sell their daughters for the right prize, but those aren’t the kind of people you want as friends,” Fela replied.  
“And what if the majority of fathers were willing to sell their daughters?” Urthemiel asked.  
“Then chances are, he just might,” she replied, “but that’s about statistics and norms as much as it is about the mortal tendency to follow. Morally, we should be compelled to help a man who is, say, dying on the street. But if the majority of people ignore him, the rest tends to follow. So we end up doing nothing.”

“And if the people who are ignoring the dying man, see someone helping him?” he asked, “will they continue to follow the majority or will they follow the lone one?”  
“Chances are that there will soon be a couple of people standing around the dying man to try and help once the first has taken initiative. But there are a lot of factors coming into play here, the motivations for stopping to help or moving on can vary wildly,” Fela replied, “maybe the dying man is a known criminal, they wouldn't feel particularly compelled to help a man who is known to have caused suffering. Maybe not. Or maybe he is elven, and racism comes into play. The situation can take numerous different forms. Maybe a man passing by is rushing home because his pregnant wife has just gone into labour, or a man sees eight others already helping and assumes he isn’t needed, others might just want to watch, or seem helpful to their peers. Others still might stop and help because that’s what they believe is the right thing to do. Even more might not even notice.” 

Urthemiel chewed on that for a bit.  
“So, going along with it, is something people _might_ do if what is asked of them is within their norms?”  
“Precisely, but people can always surprise you,” Fela answered, “we are predictable in some ways, and unpredictable in others. Things are rarely so easily defined as being one or the other. The world isn’t black and white, as they say, most of it is varying shades of grey.”  
“Because black and white make grey?”  
“Exactly!”  
“Metaphors and symbolism,” Urthemiel said proudly, “I am starting to get those.”  
“Give me five,” Fela replied and held up a hand. Urthemiel high fived her with enthusiasm and grinned, he had learned that barely an hour ago. But he found that slapping your hands together as a way of expressing happiness was an enjoyable one. Odd as it had seemed to him at first, it made him feel more expressive.

“You are enjoying my company,” Urthemiel observed.  
“Correct,” Fela replied.  
“But you are anxious as well,” he continued, “a little confused, and a little sad.”  
“Mm-hmm, keep going,” she encouraged. Urthemiel cast a glance at her as they walked.  
“You want to wake up to go back to my father, and you worry if he’s alright. You said you have no idea how to navigate the Fade, is that where the confusion comes from?”  
“It is, and a little from when we don’t understand each other, but that’s ok,” Fela answered.  
“You are afraid too,” he noted and stopped walking to look at her, “why are you afraid?”  
“Because I might not be able to find a way to wake up, and that means I can’t be with the people that became my family in the last year,” Fela explained.  
“That’s scary for you?” he asked and she nodded.  
“I had another family, my birth family,” Fela explained, “before I became a Grey Warden, we were betrayed, I lost my brother, my sister-in-law, my nephew, my mother, my father, my nanny, my tutor, many close friends, and loved ones.”  
“You felt alone, and terribly sad,” Urthemiel observed, “even talking about it now stirs your hurt.” Fela nodded.  
“Because I lost people I love.”  
“You say ‘lost’ past tense, but you say ‘love’ in present tense,” he pointed out.  
“Yes, I still love them, that didn’t change when they died,” she answered.  
“That makes sense,” he said, “it’s a good thing I think, that you still love them. Even if it hurts, it’s a good hurt.”  
“I agree,” she replied.  
“Don’t worry, we will find a way,” he said reassuringly, “you don’t need to be afraid with me and father here.”  
“I know,” Fela replied and embraced Urthemiel, “thank you.” 

Urthemiel stood awkwardly for a moment with his arms spread a little to his sides before he wrapped them around her shoulders. This was a soft gesture, Urthemiel deduced, embraces should be soft and comforting. So he gently held her against himself, one hand stroking her hair.

“Is this ok?” he asked.  
“Yeah, it helps. Thanks,” she replied and gently untangled herself.  
“I liked that,” Urthemiel mused, “it felt nice to hold you.” Fela chuckled.  
“Well, good. It was a very good hug.”  
“Was it comforting?” he asked, “I was trying to make it comforting.”  
“Absolutely, yes,” she answered with a smile.

“You feel softer than I imagined,” he said as they started moving again.  
“How so?”  
“Because of how you fought,” Urthemiel explained, “you were steel and controlled rage. Those are not soft things. I know, because I felt it.”  
“Ah, well, I’m more than what you saw on the battlefield, like you,” she replied, “people who fight like me can still be soft and kind.”  
“I don’t think there is anybody in Thedas who fights quite like you,” Urthemiel answered.  
“Flattering, thank you. Keep it coming,” Fela replied with a grin, earning another befuddled look from the Old God.

“You really want me to keep the flattery coming? Or are you using humour to hide that you are feeling shy,” he asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“That last one,” she admitted.  
“Do all people talk around facts like you do?” he asked.  
“Um, I guess many people do, yes. Some are more straight forward than others, believe it or not, I’m a lot more straight forward than most,” she answered, “but the degree of how subtle or blunt we can be continuously varies, depending on what we want to achieve and how we intend to get it.”  
“Why didn’t you just say flattery makes you shy?” he asked.  
“Because, it’s something a person could exploit if they wanted to. So, instead of saying, ‘your flattery makes me shy,’ I say, ‘keep it coming,’ so you might deduce from that it is not making me shy at all, if you’re not paying attention. That way, I can keep you from using that as a weapon against me.”  
“I wouldn’t exploit it,” he promised.  
“I know, it’s just that old habits die hard.”

“So, any idea what we will find once we travel east long enough? Am I going to have to fight a dark version of myself? Because I’ve already done that once and I found it terribly cliché,” Fela quipped. Urthemiel chuckled.  
“You are doing it again.”  
“Yes I am, but it’s the truth,” she answered with a shrug.  
“Why do you think you might have to fight a dark version of yourself?” he asked.  
“It’s one of the possibilities I have considered, yes,” she answered, “because of what happened when you reached out.”  
“Oh,” he said, “you are thinking within the bounds of causality again.” She nodded.  
“I suppose. That… thing, that makes shadows cling to me, the one that you saw when you were released… Could it have something to do with why I am not waking up naturally?”

Urthemiel thought on that for a moment. He did that sometimes, remaining quiet for a few minutes in the middle of a conversation to think things through. All she needed to do was wait for him to speak, so she let the question hang in the air. Until finally, he spoke.

“It had a hand in bringing you here but it’s not what’s _keeping_ you here,” he said.  
“I’m not sure to thank it or to be pissed,” Fela replied.  
“Good question,” Urthemiel replied slowly and went back to brooding.

They continued heading east in a comfortable silence. The sky was now more golden than the colours of twilight, whether that was because they were moving or because the Fade had something similar to a solar cycle, Fela didn’t know. What she did know, was that she wasn’t feeling any different yet. She reached out through the Taint. She was getting nothing from Urthemiel, as she had expected, and she went looking for Alistair instead.

She let her eyes fall closed while she kept walking. The Taint provided her with enough to know where she was going. That was new. There were no tainted things around her now, and yet she sensed her surroundings just fine. Fela frowned and bit her lip, her Taint had changed. No wait, it hadn’t changed, it was the same but more… no, _she_ , was _more_.

Avernus had spoken about unlocking more traits of the Taint, and enhancing others… was this what he had been talking about? She surged out, scanning her surroundings. They were malleable, soft, like pudding. This was what the Fade felt like, like dreams. Easily impressionable, slipping through your fingers when you try to focus on it.

She could feel Alistair’s presence through it, it was close… but not quite there. He couldn’t be pinpointed, because he wasn’t quite there… Did that mean she felt him from beyond the Veil? Was he with her? And was he… _humming,_ to her? Calling… he was calling her. But not through her mortal name.

_Shit_.

“Urthemiel,” she whispered, “can you hear it?”  
“Hear what?” he asked.  
“Alistair,” she replied, “he is calling me.” Urthemiel frowned, and looked around.  
“No,” she said, flicking his ear, “ _listen._ ” He briefly glared at her for the sudden jerk on his attention, then his eyes widened.

“You hear it?” she said excitedly and he nodded fervently.  
“It’s your name,” he smiled, “your _true_ name.”  
“I don’t understand any of that,” Fela grinned.  
“You do,” he said, “you recognised your own name, didn’t you?” She slowly nodded.  
“I never knew I had more than one name,” she said quietly.  
“Everything does,” Urthemiel replied, “your sleeping mind has been translating names without your waking mind being aware you were doing it. It’s where your _sight_ comes from.”

“My sight,” she mused, “it’s all connected, isn’t it? The Taint, the Fade, names, my sight, the shadowy thing?” Urthemiel gave her a knowing smile.  
“They are all things from beyond the Veil, yes. And you’ve been drawing upon them from the physical realm. You’re a strange creature. Had you been a mage, it would have been one thing. But you’re not, something resides in you, but it’s not magic as I’ve ever known it. It’s something else.”  
“I certainly can’t cast any spells, and I’m not usually conscious in the Fade. I have had plenty of problems with demons of course, but not in the same way mages do,” she replied, and looked thoughtful for a moment.

“There is one thing,” she said slowly, “I’ve encountered an abomination at Redcliffe that claimed it couldn’t quite see me. It was a desire demon that had possessed a young mage boy from the Fade. And before that, I came across a sloth demon in Kinloch Hold. It put us under a sleeping spell, wove dreams for us to lull us into complacency,” she paused, “I saw the dreams it spun for my friends, they were… carefully tailored. But mine… was off target, nowhere near as compelling as the other dreams. I traversed the Fade for… I don’t know… hours? Minutes? I interacted with it, learned from it, and it gave me strength, constitution, speed, and wisdom in return. And when we defeated the sloth demon, and we woke up, my physical body possessed all the power I had gathered in the Fade… I’ve been pretty intimate with it, if you know what I mean.”

“Demons have trouble seeing you,” Urthemiel said, “it’s probably why you were able to break free from your dream. The demon couldn’t tailor a proper one because it couldn’t see you as he could the others.”  
“You can see me properly, right?” she asked, “you’ve been reading me, you knew my name when it was called.” Urthemiel nodded.  
“I am no demon. Whatever it is that makes you burn so brightly, it doesn’t hamper me.”  
“Well, good,” she decided, “I wouldn’t want it to hamper you. You are the second person who has ever been able to _see_ me. It’s rare for me, to be known.”

Urthemiel chuckled suddenly.  
“The woman who burns so brightly, casts the deepest shadows.”  
“What now?”  
“You, you burn so brightly, you cast the deepest shadows,” Urthemiel repeated, “don’t you see?”

“Is this Old God logic again?”  
“Shadows cling to you when your darkness is released, I saw it, no, _felt it,_ in the physical realm. But here, you burn like a bonfire among candles. That’s why demons can’t see you very well. Your duality is what lets you draw upon the Fade, why you have the sight. It’s what enabled you to master the Taint, it’s why you are so remarkably clear headed in the Fade even though you’re not a mage. Do you hear it?” he asked, beaming with enthusiasm he grabbed both of her hands.

She listened, it was all in the melody Alistair was humming, all that she was, her very definition, was in her name. She chuckled.

“Yes, I hear it. There are no words for it in language, but I hear it.”  
“ _That’s_ your true name, a name that isn’t spoken, a name that the waking mind cannot comprehend,” Urthemiel replied.  
“And my mortal head is spinning again,” Fela replied with a lopsided grin.  
“That always happens, in the beginning,” he answered.

“Beginning? What beginning?” Fela asked.  
“Your sleeping mind,” Urthemiel said, “is awakening.”  
“So, you’ve seen this happen before? Are there others like me?” she asked.  
“Not quite like you, no. I have never seen this process in a mortal before,” he replied.  
“But you _have_ seen it, in… immortals?” Fela deduced.  
“Yes,” he replied, “in the ancient elves.”  
“They are not the same as elves are today?” she asked. Urthemiel shook his head.

“Legends of elven immortality, are not just legends. They were true once. And yet, you are no elf.”  
“Is there such a thing as ancient humans then?” she said with a shrug. Urthemiel gave a soft chuckle.  
“No, your species is still very young. But so were the ancient elves once.”  
“So, even an Old God isn’t sure what I am,” Fela summarised.

“What you are is not easily defined,” Urthemiel said, “you are many things, is it so strange there is no single word for it?” Fela chuckled.  
“I suppose not.”  
“Don’t overthink it,” Urthemiel said, “you are still you, who you’ve always been.”  
“I feel like me,” Fela said with a nod, “mortal, female, human, non-mage, a little weird. I feel pretty good.”

Urthemiel smiled, this human was not done making her mark on the world. Not by far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the idea of names and true names as opposed to mortal ones, comes from the ancient Greek philosopher Plato. The allegory of the cave would probably explain it best if you're interested. I tweaked and changed it a bit, but the idea is that what we experience in the physical world is sort of incomplete. There is more than what we perceive with our senses, they limit us in our understanding of the world. 
> 
> Very metaphysical, I know. I studied philosophy once, though I didn't finish it. So that's where that comes from. 
> 
> So, I guess; consider Urthemiel Plato and Fela Aristoteles. Sort of.


	60. Getting Reacquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela gets to work on finally waking up.

Alistair didn’t wake up for his meal, and he slept through the night.

Zevran took it as a good sign, he probably hadn’t gotten much rest before. Zevran had gone back into the room when night fell and sat quietly by the bed. He had a good view of the balcony doors from there, and he didn’t really expect anyone to try and come in that way anyway. It felt like a bit of a voyeur, watching Alistair and Fela sleep like that.

He chuckled at himself, he had never once felt like a voyeur before, when he listened to them at camp. Though he didn’t really have a choice then. His ears were sensitive, and they were loud. And there was that one time when he had come to call them for dinner. Most of the interesting bits were covered then, though. Save for Fela’s long shapely legs, which had been locked around Alistair’s hips Watching them like this held a different kind of intimacy, he was watching _over_ them.

Zevran stretched, the sun was creeping up the horizon. Leliana would come and take over for him soon. The bard was probably already up to write missives and instructions for her scouts. He liked Leliana, there was a ruthlessness about her. But she was just and compassionate all the same.

She had also had a crush on Fela, Zevran knew. Though the bard had made no move to come between Fela and Alistair, and Zevran didn’t believe she ever would. Leliana kept her head held high, and treasured the friendship she shared with Fela and Alistair. Zevran respected that about her. She was a close friend to him. She stomped each and every flirtation into the ground of course, but there was no malice to it. It was a kind of game they played, a product of their dynamic. Zevran wasn’t even trying to get her into his bed, anymore, but it was a part of how they interacted. What he had with Leliana was what he imagined a platonic relation was like. They often drank together, played cards, discussed attractive people, entrusted each other with the things that kept them lying awake at night, and just enjoyed each other’s company.

Zevran never had many friends among the Crows, not only was it actively discouraged, it often got people killed. Either because a master was afraid one of his slaves would break their isolation, or because they ended up betraying each other. Shared loyalties got you killed, simple as that. What he had with Rina and Thaliesen was enjoyable, but fragile and fickle. And in the end, it had cost Rina’s life.

But he wasn’t among the Crows anymore. It had taken him a while to learn to let his guard down around the people he had travelled with for this last year. And he still didn’t let it _completely_ down with some of them. But he had formed connections he never thought possible. He had never realised how isolated he had been before, and how poorly that suited him.

A soft knock on the door jerked him out of his revelry, Leliana quietly stepped into the room and gave Zevran a smile.  
“Good morning,” Zevran whispered.  
“Hi,” she whispered back, “how are they doing?”  
“Still fast asleep,” he replied, “no changes.”  
“Anything out of the ordinary?” she asked, and Zevran shook his head in reply.

“You should get some rest, Shale has already relieved Sten, we got it from here,” Leliana said and Zevran gave a nod and a yawn.  
“Thanks, querida,” he whispered as he stood, “I’ll be sleeping on the sofa in the other room, if you need me.”

Shale was quiet, and the sofa was soft. It didn’t take long for Zevran to fall asleep.

* * *

Alistair awoke tangled in sheets and limbs.

Either he moved Fela in his sleep or she moved on her own, and the latter seemed more likely. Seeing as he could only move his toes and fingers at the moment without moving her. It was comfortable anyway, and it made him feel like she could wake up any minute. So he stayed where he was and didn’t move until he heard Leliana’s quiet chuckle in response to the growling of his stomach.

“Good morning,” Alistair replied in a whisper.  
“Good morning, Alistair,” she answered, “did you sleep well?”  
“Much better than the last few days, yes,” he said and gently moved one of Fela’s arms so he could move to sit up.

Fela mumbled and rolled onto her other side at the nudge he gave her. Leliana stared at him wide eyed.

“That’s… that’s progress, right?” she asked.  
“I think so,” he answered as he looked down on the sleeping Grey Warden. He wasn’t sure what she had said exactly but he distinctly heard the words ‘piss off’ and ‘twat.’  
“I’ll call Wynne,” Leliana replied and rushed out of the room. Shale stepped in shortly after.

“The bard is running to get the mage,” Shale said in her low, raspy voice, “it something wrong?”  
“No, not wrong. Good, I think, she uh, responded to me pushing her off myself,” Alistair said as Zevran poked his head around the door.  
“Why, what was she doing?” he asked with a grin.  
“She was lying on top of me and I couldn’t move,” Alistair said flatly.  
“Uh-huh, and what else was she doing?” Zevran winked and licked his lips. Alistair rolled his eyes at the assassin.  
“Mumbling something about ‘twats’ that need to ‘piss off,’” he replied with a meaningful look. Zevran snickered and moved to step inside.  
“Our beloved Fela has always been very eloquent, hasn’t she. So, she responded? Responded how?”  
“Rolled onto her side and cursed at me a bit,” Alistair replied and smiled fondly as he looked down at the cranky looking woman sleeping by his side.

“Like it does when it dreams?” Shale asked Alistair, “it paws at its nose and mumbles incoherently,” she imitated the motion and mumbling, providing a hilarious sight to Alistair and Zevran.

“Yes, like that Shale,” Alistair snickered after recovering from a fit of laughter that send jolts of pain through his battered body.  
“Why is that funny?” Shale asked.  
“Some things are just much funnier when a golem does it,” Zevran quipped, “you make us look very silly.”  
“Because it _is_ silly,” Shale retorted, “am I also funny when I squish little flesh creatures into pools of blood and gore?”

“No, not really,” Zevran answered.  
“Why not?”  
“Because pawing your nose and mumbling incoherently is something you would never do,” Zevran answered, “smashing things is something you do all the time. It was pretty cool at first, but you get used to it, you know?” Shale considered it for a moment.  
“Fair enough, I see its point.” She turned back to Alistair.

“The bard is getting the healer because it displayed behaviour that is normal for sleeping flesh creatures?”  
“Well, when you put it that way it sounds rather silly, doesn’t it? But, maybe this means she is somehow closer to waking up, maybe Wynne could,” Alistair explained, “either way, it’s a change.” Shale nodded.  
“I agree with its reasoning,” then crossed her arms and surveyed the room quietly.

Meanwhile Zevran moved to sit in one of the chairs beside the bed and brushed a lock of hair from Fela’s face.  
“She looks better, doesn’t she?”  
“I think so, yeah,” Alistair replied, “feels a bit warmer too, she was a little cold when I got here.”  
“Can you listen for her melody?” Zevran asked, “maybe see if it’s getting stronger?” Alistair smiled and nodded.  
“I believe so, yes. I have to listen closely but I’m having nowhere near as much trouble finding her as before.” Zevran gave a hopeful smile.  
“These things sound like they could be good signs.”

Alistair nodded and looked at Fela again, the woman was practically indestructible. Mostly out of an astounding need to give the entire world the finger. _Why,_ exactly, Alistair might never understand, she seemed to get along with it well enough.

They had started out pretty much clueless, two new Grey Wardens, alone during a Blight, in a country on the brink of civil war, while there was huge bounty on their heads and they had been declared outlaws. And then Fela had said, ‘fuck it, let’s go kill an Archdemon,’ and the crazy bitch had _actually_ pulled it off. She set things in motion that had determined the final outcome, and she _survived_. She played it so they both could. It shouldn’t have been possible, but she made it so anyway.

Wynne swept into the room, followed by Leliana, and quickly made her way to Fela’s side of the bed.

Though, as far as the sleeping Warden was concerned, all sides were her side of the bed. She protested a little when Wynne tried rolling her onto her back, mumbling more obscenities and frowning. The older woman pulled up her eyebrows.

“This is certainly a change,” she said thoughtfully.  
“You sleep next to her all the time, does she normally do this?” Wynne asked Alistair.  
“Uh, yeah. She gets a little cranky when she’s sleepy, doesn’t like to be bothered. Though cuddling is fine so long as you don’t try to move her, look,” he said as he put an arm around her and she scooted a little closer to him.

“That is adorable,” Leliana giggled, “I wonder if she knows it’s you.”  
“Possibly,” Wynne said, “it could be your scent, she’s used to that.”  
“Yeah, maybe,” Alistair replied, “maybe we should try using the smelling salts?”  
“I’ve tried it before, it didn’t work,” Wynne answered, “but we might get a rise out of her now… she was still unresponsive then…”

Wynne got up to find the smelling salts amongst her supplies, which were laid out on top of a nearby dresser. She rummaged through them for a bit and returned to the bed. There was a sharp intake of breath when Wynne held the salts under Fela’s nose, and then she slapped Wynne’s hand away.

Zevran burst into laughter at the response.

“Ok, then,” Wynne said curtly, “she does not appreciate the smelling salts.” Alistair chuckled a bit.  
“It was still worth a try. We got a rise out of her, what do you think?”  
“I think,” Wynne said slowly and hesitantly, “her chances of waking up are increasing.”

A hopeful sigh swept through the room, whatever was going on, for whatever reason she wouldn’t wake up, Fela was working on it.

* * *

Fela and Urthemiel had taken a short rest, they had been walking for a long time now and they didn’t know how much further they still had to go.

Oddly, Fela found that she didn’t need to eat in the Fade, she simply didn’t get hungry or weak and woozy like she would when awake. She probably didn’t need to drink either but she did that anyway. Making a cup of her hands to scoop some water out of a clear and shallow stream.

She wondered how her body was being sustained, was Wynne using magic or were they feeding her somehow? Unconscious people shouldn’t be able to swallow, so how were they doing it? Then again, she didn’t know how long she had been unconscious. She shrugged at the thought and looked up at Urthemiel, who was washing his face and hands.

“How much further do you think we should travel,” she asked. He looked at her.  
“Why do you ask?” Fela shrugged.   
“Just wondering how much longer it will take.”

She was reminded of a discussion she once had with Sten in Haven, ‘ _do you intend to go north, until it becomes south, and attack the Archdemon from the rear?_ ’ She had replied that the Archdemon would never see it coming, and that settled it. Right now, it was her turn to wonder whether they would just keep going east until they found it had become west.  
“Not long, I hope,” Urthemiel replied, “I wish I could say more or that I had any certainty, but it is not so. I don’t want to give you false expectations.”  
“I know, thank you,” she said with a smile, “let’s get going, my body is wasting away somewhere. And just when it was in such fine shape after a year of running and fighting.”

“Sorry about that,” Urthemiel said shyly, he opened his mouth to continue but Fela cut him off.  
“Listen, I know you feel a staggering amount of guilt for the death and suffering you caused when the darkspawn corrupted you and you became the Archdemon. But you weren’t in _control_ ,” she emphasised, “you didn’t _want_ to raise a Blight. When an army breaks the gates of my keep I don’t blame the battering ram, I blame the ones that send the soldiers there. And don’t forget about Loghain’s antics, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to dispatch some band of mercenaries, or thugs, or bounty hunters, his soldiers, even desperate civilians looking for some quick gold, you had nothing to do with those.” She took his hand to make him look her in the eyes.

“I don’t resent you for it, I don’t blame you for it. I know that sounds a little too easy, and you were expecting me to hold a grudge. But I told you before, I _see_ you. All of it.” He gave Fela a sad smile.  
“I know that, but it doesn’t change how I feel about my part in all of this.”  
“That’s understandable,” Fela replied with a nod, “but I need you to know for a fact that I don’t hold it against you. You don’t need to be afraid to tell me of your thoughts, or memories, or the things the Taint made you do. You don’t need to hide parts of yourself from me,” she smiled, “it would be futile anyway.”

“I… am not sure if I deserve that,” he replied hesitantly, “after the things I did… to you, to innocent people, your land… I’ve left a trail of destruction, that won’t just go away.”  
“I don’t care what anybody thinks you do or don’t deserve,” Fela answered, “when I look at you, I can tell you have suffered just as much, if not more, than I have. It’s going to take a while to get over that, and for the coming nine months, I’m pretty sure I am the only person you’ll be talking to.” Urthemiel bit his lip and looked away.

“You don’t have to confide in me if you don’t want to, and if you decide that you do, you can do so in your own time and at your own pace, you are in control of that,” she added, “I just need you to know that, as far as I am concerned, we’re fine with each other. Alright?” He gave another nod and squeezed her hand briefly.  
“Alright,” he replied.

They continued their trek quietly. Fela figured Urthemiel needed some time to put things to rest. She was fine with walking in silence, she enjoyed her conversations with Urthemiel but silence was good too. 

Fela cocked her head and seemed to be listening intently as she walked. Urthemiel watched her from the corner of his eye, she was slowly becoming more and more aware of her surroundings on the other side of the Veil. She had mentioned sensing several others, people close to her, two of them had been calling her along with Alistair for a time. But the calling had stopped after a while, which was a bit of a relief if Urthemiel were honest.

The idea of being called non stop without a way to stop it was maddeningly frustrating. He figured that they must have been calling her out directly from beyond the Veil, he wondered how they did that. Fela suddenly jerked, snorting and wrinkling her nose.

_“Ah!_ Wha- fuck this!” she made a slapping motion with her hand in front of her face, then stood still with wide eyes.

“I think I just slapped Wynne’s hand,” she said.  
“Wynne?” Urthemiel looked around just to be sure, “beyond the Veil?”  
“Well, that’s where she is, right? I felt it, the contact I mean, like I _actually_ hit her hand, resistance and everything,” Fela repeated the motion and mimicked being blocked by something solid.

“Good,” he said, “we must be getting closer to waking you up.”  
“How do you figure?”  
“You’re becoming more aware of the surroundings of your corporeal body, and now you’ve interacted with it,” he said excitedly, “do it again!”

“Uh- how? She just shoved something under my nose, smelling salts I’d guess, that was a direct stimulus I reacted to,” Fela replied, “perhaps even just a reflex.”  
“You have to start somewhere,” he replied with a shrug, “try to find something to respond to.”

Fela smiled at Urthemiel’s enthusiasm and his playful encouragement, and closed her eyes. Fela let herself slip into the meditative state Sten had taught her, blocking out her surroundings from the Fade. Through the Taint, she carefully sifted the things that felt like Fade, from the things that didn’t. Which left her with a few vague impressions.

She was lying down, and there was a warmth beside her. Alistair, she immediately knew. And there were others, these she hadn’t sensed before, since they weren’t tainted. One was solid, firm, like rock. That must be Shale, it felt distinctly different from the other, softer, sources. Four of them, besides Alistair. She singled out a second, it differed a little from the other three. It was… lighter, delicate, in a way. And firm in others, more in tune with… something. Zevran, she guessed. Maybe because he is elven. One felt particularly familiar, more so than the others. Asher, she decided. Somehow it felt like dog, maybe it had something to do with that dead weight on top of the blanket at her feet. That left two others, one was… powerful, it felt like it held potential somehow. Magic? That would be Wynne then, Morrigan said she would leave after the battle. So, who was the fourth?

She studied this one for a while. It held secrets. Fela wondered what they were, it said a lot that they actually _felt_ like secrets to her. But there was a gentleness too, and warmth, musical laughter. This was Leliana. She smiled.

“Alistair, Shale, Zevran, Asher, Wynne, Leliana,” she whispered.  
“Those are the other people with you?” Urthemiel asked. She gave a nod without opening her eyes.  
“Try calling them,” Urthemiel encouraged.  
“How? Through the Taint? Only Alistair has it.”  
“No, I mean, try calling them in the way they called you. If you can hear, you can speak,” he said.

Fela concentrated, they had called her, through her true name. Did that mean she could call them through theirs? But how could she articulate them? They were patterns, vibrations and hums.

She singled out Alistair, blocking out the rest and narrowing her focus. They figured out how to articulate hers somehow, no reason she couldn’t do the same. One at a time. This was tricky work, it was no use trying to imitate the buzzing she was getting from Alistair. His name wasn’t a melody like hers. Or maybe it was, but she needed to find it underneath. She let the tingling fill her mind, and focussed until she could hear it, felt it on her skin, and tasted it on her lips.

The name she spoke was heard but not remembered by Urthemiel, it was soft and fleeting, not like the blunt tools people call words. Something more subtle and unbound by the system of language. His name might not sound the same, the next time anyone speaks it. It was something perpetual, something that changed all the time. Not static like the words of our language. Names underwent perpetual change, they couldn’t be grasped by one sequence of sounds, it didn’t work that way.

As a result, the waking mind couldn’t make sense of it. If anyone had heard Fela speak, they wouldn’t be able to recall _what_ exactly she had said.

And neither did she.

* * *

“Alistair,” Fela mumbled.

All heads turned the whisper’s direction.

“Alistair,” she repeated a bit more clearly, though her speech was a bit slurred from sleep. Alistair had jerked up at the first whisper of his name, and looked down on her with wide eyes as he reached for her hand.  
“I’m here,” he replied. She smiled a little in her sleep. Alistair gently squeezed her hand.  
“It’s time to wake up now love,” he whispered, “hey, aren’t you hungry?” Fela’s sleepy smile widened a bit, but she didn’t respond to his question.

“Asher,” the dog perked up when he heard his mistress whisper his name, and moved so he could reach her hand, and lick it.  
“Do you think she’s aware you’re here or is it just a coincidence?” Leliana asked.  
“I’m… not sure,” Alistair replied. Though the next whisper changed his mind.

“Shale.”  
“Ok, now I’m starting to think she is,” Alistair said as the golem hurried to the side of the bed to poke Fela’s cheek.  
“What are you doing?” Wynne asked.  
“I promised it I would poke its cheek when its squishy body was hurting all over again,” she replied. Wynne frowned, then raised an eyebrow, and apparently decided it made sense and gave a nod.

“Zevran,” Fela whispered.  
“This is getting spooky, guys,” the Antivan elf said, but he moved around Shale to plant a kiss on her cheek anyway.  
“Wynne,” came the next whisper.  
“Definitely aware then,” Alistair said while Wynne touched the hand Asher had slobbered on.

“Leliana,” the bard had moved past Shale and Zevran before the whisper had finished, and kissed Fela’s other cheek tenderly.  
“Good job, my friend,” she whispered in her ear, “just a little further.”

* * *

Fela breathed out slowly.

“Ok,” she said, “that was pretty intense.”  
“You did well,” Urthemiel said with an excited twinkle in his amber eyes, “better than well, did it work?”  
“I think they understood I was trying to reach them,” Fela replied, “they reacted to it, answering me and touching my hand and such.”  
“Did you understand what they said?” he asked eagerly.  
“Most of it,” she looked thoughtful, “they want me to wake up, Alistair thinks I’m hungry.” Urthemiel flashed a lopsided grin, much like Alistair’s.  
“You probably will be when you wake up.” Fela chuckled.

“I suppose. So what now?”  
“Now we walk a bit more and then you try again when you’re ready,” Urthemiel replied cheerfully and took Fela by her hand. 

* * *

After whispering their names, Fela had gone back to just sleeping.

They had tried rousing her, speaking to her in low soothing tones. But Fela had just rolled onto her other side and snuggled up to Alistair. They had given up after that, taking it as a sign she was done doing whatever it was she just did. But it seemed she was trying to get… through? It couldn’t be coincidence she had spoken all of their names. Alistair held her and absently stroked her hair.

_What kind of crazy shit are you up to now?_

Where ever she went, she did things nobody saw coming. He had heard over a hundred different stories about her in taverns and inns along the year of constant travel. And a surprising number were things she actually did. Slaying Flemeth, clearing out a village of crazy dragon cultists, finding a single sword lost on a battlefield, beating the crows, _twice,_ slaying countless darkspawn, and more.

He never would have dreamed he would do half the things he had done in the last year on the day he met Fela. Not all of that was because of her exactly, she just tended to do something about extraordinary circumstances because she could. First you need to be in them, and there were a _lot_ of extraordinary circumstances these days. Even now, he was certain of it. She knew they were there, and she was trying to reach them.

* * *

“Alright,” Fela said and stopped walking, “I want to try again.” Urthemiel nodded.  
“What do you want to do?”  
“When you wake up, you suddenly become aware of all your senses, right?” Fela said, “so that’s what I’m going to try. My body should still be picking up sounds and smells and such, if I can get through to those, maybe I’ll wake up?” Urthemiel smiled.

“Now _you_ are using Old God logic.” Fela gave him a sheepish grin.  
“I learned from the best.” Urthemiel nodded thoughtfully.  
“Are you ready?”  
“Yes,” Fela replied and she sat down on the ground and closed her eyes.

She started with sound, that’s usually one of the first things she noticed right before waking up. She was little uncertain on how to approach this, so far, she had been singling out individual things. People, mostly. But sound, is very different. She needed to focus her attention differently. So she repeated the process of separating things of the Fade from things beyond the Veil, and looked for sound. Any kind, a voice, or an object, it didn’t matter. She needed a starting point. The Taint wouldn’t pick up on sounds, sounds couldn’t be Tainted. So she would have to rely on her connection with her corporeal body, she decided. Her ears, specifically.

To her surprise, the first thing she picked up from her ears, wasn’t sound. It was a feeling, her head was resting on something warm and firm. One side gave off a warmth and firmness, and the other didn’t give anything off in particular.

_I_ _must be on my side then,_ she thought after a while.

It was the only way she could make sense of only feeling something on one ear. She focussed on what she felt there. A… rhythm, a pounding. No, a _heartbeat,_ her head was on Alistair’s chest, she realised. No wonder his presence had been strong ever since she picked up on it, she was probably in the same bed with him. Since touch seemed to come easier, she continued to explore what else she felt to determine what position she was in, though she had a pretty good guess.

It was a strange experience to feel her body lying down and sitting up at the same time, it wasn't quite right. Her mind had trouble making sense of it. 

She held still for a moment, filtering out the Fade experience of sitting up. She was indeed hungry, and she was in pain. The pain she had forgotten when Urthemiel had startled her returned, but better now. Not as sharp as before, she was healing. She was lying in a bed, snuggled up to Alistair. She felt him, where his body touched hers. Against her chest, under her arm, against her legs, which she had pulled up to curl into a ball. A comfortable one. She had curled up like that against Alistair because it was comfortable, not because of any pain of fear.

Well, maybe a bit out of annoyance at her companion’s attempts to wake her up too. They couldn’t _pull_ her from the Fade, she had to come out of it herself. And she was working on it. Now aware of the mattress, the sheets, Alistair, and Asher by her feet, she tried sound again. She had the soft pulsing of Alistair’s heartbeat to latch onto, if she could feel it, she should be able to hear it.

Urthemiel watched as Fela’s face twisted while she focussed. He was eager to know how it was going but didn’t dare break her concentration. She was close now. It was numbing the nightmares he had been holding back, they receded as she got closer to waking up by sheer power of will.

She was performing a diabolically tricky mental exercise, unifying her sleeping and waking mind by separating the stimuli she got from each, and then exploring the side she wanted to reach. He could see Fela start to sweat a little with the effort. She had grit her teeth and clenched her jaw too. All Urthemiel could do was wait, she would either remain, or wake up.

Fela was slowly becoming aware of voices around her. She couldn’t quite make out what they said, and she had trouble recognising which voice belonged to whom. Alistair’s voice was easiest, it resonated in his chest, she could both hear and feel that.

It took her a while to get her focus just right, it was a bit like getting into a hammock, balancing and swaying until she found the right point of gravity and relaxed into it. After Alistair’s words cleared, the other voices became increasingly easier to pinpoint and identify. They were talking about using smelling salts again, since she seemed to be trying to wake up. Fela wasn’t sure if she agreed with that, it might break her focus. Time to work a little faster then, smell was next.

As Fela got reacquainted with her body, she could hear Wynne move to get the salts again. She regretted not choosing taste or sight first. She didn’t like smelling salts. But now that she had started putting effort into it, she wasn’t going to stop. She was breathing through her nose, she could feel that. It was only a small leap to pick up Alistair’s scent, and soon after the smell of dog.

That made sense, they were closest to her. Shale didn’t smell like anything unless you smeared something on her, and she didn’t like being smeared in things. But Leliana wore perfume, a soft floral bouquet, light and sweet. Zevran smelled like clean leather and weapon oil, with a tinge of citrus coming from his hair. That left Wynne, and when she turned her attention to the old mage, she stuck the smelling salts under Fela’s nose.

“Fuck- _come_ _on!_ ” she cursed, struggling to hang on to the connection she had established. Her breath came fast with the irritation caused by the salts, and she grimaced.  
“Come on,” she hissed to herself through her teeth, “come on, I got this!”

She set to it with fervour, taste, was luckily easy. There was only one taste, terrible morning breath.

She strained to open her eyes and her vision swam before she could make sense of what she saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea that language is actually limiting in a way comes from... I'm not sure actually, an early modern philosopher. I'd have to look it up.


	61. Little Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela wakes up, and gets on with her life. Before the coronation, Fela is informed of an extra guest.

Fela jerked up, roughly pushing Wynne aside and gasping for breath when she felt the pain in her… everything.

She was vaguely aware of everyone rising and looking at her with curious and worried faces. She opened her mouth to speak, looking from one to the other, before she broke into a grin.

“Hi guys,” she croaked. Her voice rough from the lack of use.  
“’Hi guys!?’” Leliana repeated incredulously, “that’s the first thing you say!? Do you have any idea how worried we have been!? What, for the love of the Maker, has happened?” Fela groaned.  
“Give me a minute, sheez…” She rubbed her forehead and yawned. Zevran chuckled and grinned at her while Alistair sat up with her and put an arm around her waist.

“Hi honey,” she said softly and leaned against him a little.  
“Hey love,” he replied with a chuckle, “sleep well?” She nodded.  
“Yeah, I think so. I’ve been very busy dreaming though.”  
“Nightmares?”  
“No, the opposite, good dreams,” she smiled, “I think I’m alright.”  
“Let me at least give you a check over dear,” Wynne said and put a hand on Fela’s shoulder, “then I suggest you eat and drink a bit.” Fela shook her head and moved to get out of the bed.

“Before any of that, I _really_ need to pee.”

The early afternoon was with filled with visits from her companions, her uncle, and Teagan. Any more and Fela would have banned them all for a week, they kept peppering her with questions, what had happened, why did she call their names, what did she dream about, how did she manage to make contact, what was she doing the rest of the time in the Fade, the list went on.

Fela tolerated Wynne’s insistence she gave her another check over on the condition that Wynne would only ask questions directly related to her findings. She wanted to speak alone with Alistair before thinking of including anyone else. She was elated to see everyone had made it of course, glad to be with them. But for the moment she didn’t feel like dealing with her three day nap, she wanted to know what had happened after she passed out. And refused to speak of other things before her questions had been answered.

Alistair didn’t push her for it, he knew by now that she would want to talk in private. So instead he ignored any questions that Fela wasn’t willing to answer and switched topics every time one was asked. Fela wouldn’t be rushed, it only took longer if you tried. 

When Wynne finally left the pair alone, Fela leaned back against her pillow with a sigh and rolled into Alistair’s arms.

“Finally,” she sighed and let go of her composure, “I love you,” she whispered, repeating the words over and over again while clinging to him.  
“Shh, it’s ok my love,” Alistair said softly, “we made it, we both made it.” She let out a quiet sob, and buried her face in his chest.

“Hey now, it’s ok. You’re here, and you’re awake,” he said soothingly while cradling her in his arms. He kissed the top of her head, “tell me what happened,” he said as she calmed down a bit.

Fela told him all of it, she didn’t leave out any detail. How she had been in pain for what seemed like days before she gathered her wits. Meeting Urthemiel, first as some sort of… dragon-dog, and then as a man. How much he resembled Alistair, even in his mannerisms. Which seemed so odd and so natural at times. The staggering amount of guilt Urthemiel felt, and how he had helped and guided her while she started becoming aware of her surroundings outside the Fade. To the point that he helped her figure out how to interact with it and finally, how to wake up.

Alistair quietly listened to her every word, he felt a mixture of disbelief, relief, and… pride. In Urthemiel, who would be his son. He found that, though it was hard to believe, he _wanted_ to. He trusted Fela, if she said she met Urthemiel and that he was a nice guy, then she did exactly that. The Old God that would be his firstborn son, was a nice guy, and he looked like him.

Alistair couldn’t help but feel pride swell in his chest at the thought, _his_ _son._ And Fela spoke highly of him, she _liked_ him and she lamented that he wasn’t theirs. They could not raise him. That had been the price.

Alistair mulled things over in his head, Fela had certainly displayed extraordinary talents and now she made a friend out of an Old God who was currently residing in the Fade. The very same Old God that had been the Archdemon. He found that the Archdemon and the man Fela described were impossible to reconcile with one another. He felt like he should be wary and suspicious, but he wasn’t. He felt a bittersweet ache for the son he would likely never meet, he wanted to, but it wasn’t up to him. They made Morrigan a promise, they would not follow.

Fela had drifted off to sleep again after she finished telling him what had happened.

Alistair had been frantic at first, but when she was easily awoken by his voice, he had calmed down. She wasn’t happy though, and snapped at him when she was roughly pulled from her sleep. It reassured him, sooner or later, she would have to sleep again. He couldn’t go on worrying she wouldn’t wake up every time she slept. She woke up when he said her name, she was fine.

As she promised him she was.

“So, do you think he could visit my dreams too?” Alistair asked after a short silence.  
“I think so,” she replied, “do you want me to ask?” He nodded.  
“I do, I want to meet him, if he is ok with that. He doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to,” Alistair said uncertainly.  
“He is curious about you, you know,” Fela said with a small smile playing around her lips, “I think he might take you up on the offer.”  
“Really?” Alistair asked hopefully. Fela gave a nod.  
“He likes your name too.”  
“He does? Is that important to him?”  
“It is, he thinks it suits you, ‘protector of men,’” she replied with a playful grin, “though lately you have been the ‘protector of Fela.’”  
“I like that job better anyway,” he quipped and tilted Fela’s head up for a kiss.

She kissed him back with a tenderness that bespoke her relief. She had told Alistair the complete truth, in all its glorious weirdness, and he had believed her. He didn’t pull away from her when she told him about what Urthemiel called her ‘duality’ and her ‘sight.’ He already knew she possessed some peculiar talents, this wasn’t a big deal for him. In fact, it seemed to answer a lot of his questions, it made more sense to him somehow. He told her so when he explained that her Taint felt different to him, and when he hummed the melody, Fela recognised it for what it was.

That was how he had managed to call out and why there had briefly been two other presences. She told him exactly that and Alistair explained those had been Magnus and Leliana. It made sense, Magnus knew her well, the only one besides Alistair to know what she could do. That it was more than just a knack. So, him ‘recognising’ her name, his niece’s name, wasn’t difficult to believe. Though Magnus had not known that he was recognising her name and was unaware what he was doing by humming along.

That the third should be Leliana, a bard, also made sense. Because of her connection to music. She could influence others with songs, it was a basic part of her skillset as a bard. She too, hadn’t known what she was doing exactly, but the fact remained that she picked up on it fit with her ability to influence and communicate through song.

As they slowly figured out what had transpired, dinner was delivered and cleaned away. They discussed how much they would tell the others too, they didn’t expect them to be fine with the former Archdemon hanging out in Fela’s dreams.

They would also need to tread carefully when discussing Fela’s peculiarities amongst others. It was too easy to take it for magic, even though Urthemiel assured her that it wasn’t quite like it. Fela’s dreams weren’t haunted by demons that tried to trick her into possession, they were messed up because a lot of messed up shit had happened around her. Those demons belonged to _her,_ they existed only in her mind and memory, not outside it. They _were_ her.

But by someone who didn’t know her very well, Fela could be taken for a mage suffering from nightmares caused by Fade demons. And the last thing they needed was a Chantry inquiry. And there were Orlesian Grey Wardens to deal with, Leliana was currently handling it but that could only go so far. They had made it clear they were not leaving without some answers. And Fela and Alistair weren’t going to stay hidden in their room forever.

“So what do you suppose we tell them?” Alistair asked.  
“We lie, and we claim we don’t know how or why I survived,” Fela replied, “if they knew about Urthemiel, they would go after Morrigan. That can’t happen.”  
“I agree,” Alistair said grimly, “but I don’t expect them to just believe us, we’ll have to tell them something.”  
“What do you suggest?”  
“Well, they know the Archdemon’s soul has to have gone somewhere, so they will probably be focussing on that. If it had been destroyed, you would be dead along with it,” Alistair began, “what’s the next best thing?”

“Certainly not a rebirth,” Fela replied, “banished to the Fade perhaps?”  
“We might be able to make that sound believable, but they won’t be happy,” Alistair answered, “do we know of other ways to destroy a soul?”  
“The one person I might ask is probably halfway across Thedas by now, and the next is a wrinkly icicle in Soldier’s Peak. Though I’m not sure I would want Avernus involved, he isn’t exactly a good example of general Grey Warden conduct,” Fela added.  
“What about Urthemiel?” Alistair asked, “maybe he can come up with something?”

“I could try…” Fela said, “but what if they think we have found a way that actually saves the Warden that makes the killing blow without a prepared vessel? Or if people start thinking anyone can do it? That could be disastrous during the next Blight, which _we_ won’t be around for.”  
“You’re right…” Alistair said with a frown, “whatever explanation we give might cost lives in the future.”

“Then we tell them nothing,” Fela said, “we’re just two new recruits, nobody told us shit, we can claim that we don’t know.”  
“What about Riordan?” Alistair asked.  
“Riordan was a nutjob that jumped off a tower to land on a flying dragon after we got him out of Howe’s dungeon, who knows how that might have affected him?” Fela said innocently, “Howe is well known for his cruelty by now, if those Wardens have any feelers out, they’ll know. And they’ll know we killed the bastard. It might appease them.”  
“And if they don’t know about that yet, they won’t have a hard time figuring it out,” Alistair replied, “Irminric, Oswyn, and Vaughan are all well-known nobles.”  
“Then we tell them a half truth,” Fela said, “we barely knew what we were doing as Grey Wardens, because nobody told us anything. The rest just needs subtle implication.”

Alistair agreed, as did Asher, who responded with an affirmative gruff. The dog was in on everything, Fela had no secrets for her Mabari.

That night Fela dreamt of Urthemiel. She slept through the night, undisturbed by the nightmares he kept at bay. It had been a long time since she had slept without being plagued by her dreams, she couldn’t put into words how much that meant to her. Finally she could _rest._

After months and months of constantly struggling against them, all those broken nights had taken a toll. During the day she fought darkspawn, during the night she fought her nightmares. There were few moments of solace in between, nearly all of them provided by Alistair. Now, she was finally able to have a real rest, where she didn’t need to keep an iron grip on where her mind wandered.

Alistair and Urthemiel provided her with a much needed reprieve.

Urthemiel was excited to see her, giddy with her earlier success of regaining full consciousness. He had picked her up and spun her around when he found her, proclaiming her the best human ever.

Fela had willingly gone along with his exuberance, it seemed to her she had gotten a pretty sweet deal. No more nightmares, at least for a while, and she got a playful Old God to hang out with in return. The people she loved were ok, they had all made it through the battle. Alistair and she were both alive and the Blight had been stopped.

That was all she wanted.

* * *

The next morning Fela and Alistair prepared for his coronation, following the ceremony Alistair would formally announce their betrothal to the court. After that there would be celebrations and a banquet. After that, they would convene with Eamon, Teagan, Magnus, and, unfortunately, Vaughan Kendells. The Orlesian Wardens would simply have to wait to be dealt with.

Neither of them cared much for the formalities but it had to be done, Fela would get the wedding she had always tried to avoid, and Alistair would have to get used to being called ‘your Majesty’ and ‘your Highness.’ It was part of the deal of having a life together, so neither minded overly much.

Teagan had arranged for the right garments, he had made sure there were plenty of hidden pockets for hidden knives. A tip Isolde had given him. Though Fela still chose to wear her rapiers in plain sight anyway. Oghren and Sten had gone up to Fort Drakon to retrieve them for her, Sten even sharpened, oiled, and polished them.

He also retrieved the bolt Fela had used to kill the Archdemon, to put up on the wall as a memento of an extraordinary accomplishment. As a favour. And maybe because Leliana had promised him cake.

Fela was halfway getting dressed when there was a knock on the door. A breathless messenger came in at her invitation.  
“My Lady, Commander,” he panted, “it’s your brother. He’s here.”  
“What!?” Fela took a step back at the news, “are you certain?”  
“Yes, my Lady, he says his name is Fergus Cousland and that he needs to see his younger sister, Fela, and,” his eyes darted up to her face, “he looks like you.”  
“Where?” Fela urged.  
“What’s going on?” Alistair asked, stepping into the room with his shirt hanging open.  
“Fergus is here,” she called over her shoulder before turning back to the messenger, “where is he?”  
“Down in the grand hall, with the other guests,” the messenger replied, “should I send him here?”

Fela didn’t reply, she took off at as brisk a pace her recovering body would allow. Her arms were bare in the light undershirt she wore, her forearms were still bandaged, and she still sported some impressive bruises. With her hair down, and wearing only leggings and her boots, she turned a lot of heads. Alistair hurried after her in a half-dressed state, tucking his shirt into his pants as he walked. Asher managed to look like he was smirking at Alistair, padding after his mistress faithfully.

Fela ignored Leliana’s calls when the bard noticed her striding past. Which alerted Wynne, who was still hovering over Fela like a worried parent. By the time Fela had made it halfway to the grand hall, half of her companions trailed after her. She briefly stopped to bang on Magnus’ door.  
“Uncle Magnus! It’s me, open up!” The door swung open.  
“Yes lass, what do you need?”  
“Fergus is here,” she announced before she resumed her stride. Magnus followed her without a word, there was no need for it.

Fela grit her teeth as she kept walking, the bruises made it difficult to move around without hurting herself. And she was still recovering from blood loss, she was out of breath by the time she made it to the grand hall. She stopped in the doorframe for a moment to look around, it didn’t take long for her to spot her brother, he stood a full head taller than most people.

She started making her stumbling way over to him when they locked eyes, he in turn started to cross the hall and pushed anyone who wasn’t paying attention aside. Asher cleared Fela’s way for her with loud barks, sprinting ahead of her.

_“Fergus_ you bastard!” Fela sobbed as she rushed into her brother’s arms.  
“I thought- how did you- where the fuck have you been!?” Asher bounded around them happily, wagging his tail so vigorously that it became a blur  
“I’m glad to see you too, little sister,” he replied with a smirk and picked her up in a bearhug. He released some of his grip when he felt her tense, he had not missed the bruises and bandages.

“Ah, look at you,” he said as he put her down and put a hand on her deltoid, “you got strong, Fae.”  
“I’ve been stabbing things a lot,” she replied with a lopsided grin and a sniffle while Asher bumped into her leg and flopped down on the ground to next to his mistress.  
“You were always fond of that,” Fergus said before his expression became more serious.

“Fela about Highever-”

“Fergus, I’m sorry,” Fela interrupted, “I’m so, _so,_ sorry.” Her eyes filled up with tears again at the mention of their home, Fela’s joy at seeing her brother alive withered and died to make room for grief and guilt.  
“No,” Fergus said, cupping her cheeks in his hands, “no, sweet sister, that wasn’t your fault. I should have been there.”

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks.  
“I couldn’t save any of them,” she said barely above a whisper. Fergus leaned his forehead against Fela’s and closed his eyes.  
“Neither could I, sis, I never should have left.” Fela supressed a sob and Asher nuzzled one of her hands in an attempt to comfort her. It had not occurred to her that Fergus might be feeling just as guilty and powerless about losing their family as she did.  
“You couldn’t have known,” Fela replied, “none of us saw it coming. We didn’t know what was happening until it was too late.”  
“That doesn’t change the fact that I wasn’t there to protect my family and my home,” Fergus replied, “I didn’t even know what had happened until I made it out of the Wilds.”

“What happened to you? You were out scouting by the time I made it to Ostagar, nobody could tell me where you were or how to reach you,” Fela asked.  
“We got caught in an ambush,” he replied, “I don’t remember what happened save for waking up in a Chasind hut with a broken leg days later. They told me they found me severely wounded and delirious with fever, crawling into their camp, alone.”  
“Damn…” Fela whispered, “sounds like a near thing.”  
“It was,” he replied, “it took me months to recover and start walking again. By the time I made it out of the Wilds, you were already marching on Denerim. But what about you? I’ve been hearing the craziest stories.”

“There is more truth to some of those than you might think,” Fela replied with a small smile, “I made it out of Highever because the Commander of the Grey saved me. I joined their ranks. The same night, Loghain betrayed King Cailan and left him and the rest of the Grey Wardens to die. Alistair and I would have died with them if Cailan hadn’t insisted we light the beacon that was to signal Loghain to flank the horde. And then it was up to us to stop the Blight.” Fergus chuckled.  
“You say that so simply. In all of history, Blights have ravaged the lands for decades, and then you come along and you thwart it within the span of a year.”  
“Couslands always do their duty,” Fela shrugged, “I figured some efficiency was in order.”  
“Crazy bastard that you are,” Fergus quipped.

“I considered looking for you, you know, _I_ _wanted to,_ ” she said quietly, “but-”  
“But you couldn’t put your family above your country,” Fergus broke her off, “and quite possibly the rest of Thedas. I know, I’m proud of you.” He put both of his hands on her shoulders to make her look up at him.

“Listen, I need you to be clear on this. I _don’t_ blame you or hold your responsible for anything that has happened since the night I left for Ostagar, alright? I miss my wife and son, I mourn them, it hurts like fuck, but I do not blame you for any of it. It was _not_ your fault, understand? I’m just glad I still have my little sister.”

She nodded and sniffed, suddenly looking very much like a little sister, instead of an Archdemon slaying Queen-to-be.

Magnus had stopped Alistair from immediately going after Fela to meet Fergus, Magnus explained they would need a minute to reconcile as siblings first after losing their family. So now he stood beside Magnus, watching the two of them while the rest of their companions who had trailed after them were subtly keeping the other nobles away from the reunited Couslands. Who were now speaking quietly.

Alistair could tell from Fela’s posture that she aware of the many eyes on them. She didn’t like it. She probably didn’t give two shits about what other nobles thought of the display, but their curiosity made her uneasy. There were many things she probably wanted to tell Fergus, but couldn’t because there was a bit of a crowd gathered around them. Others, like Bann Alfstanna, her brother Irminric, Arl Bryland, and Bann Ceorlic, were urging the other nobles to give the Couslands some space and privacy.

For the sake of propriety if nothing else.

Finally Magnus decided to shoulder through the crowd and take his niece and nephew back to the royal wing. Alistair decided to briefly introduce himself on the way.

“So, I’m Alistair by the way,” he said and offered Fergus his hand.  
“Fergus,” the other man replied as he shook it, “how might I address you?”  
“Just ‘Alistair’ or ‘hey you!’ will work,” the young King replied, earning a chuckle from Fergus.  
“So I’m guessing you are not comfortable with ‘your Highness’ and ‘your Grace’ and the like?” he asked.  
“Right, I’m the King, forgot about that for a moment,” Alistair cleared his throat, “in public, I suppose that would be appropriate, but in private I really prefer just Alistair.”  
“Alright,” Fergus replied. Alistair gave him a curious look.  
“Really? Most people fight me on that to no end.”  
“Nah,” Fergus replied, “I’d prefer just ‘Fergus’ as well. I get it.”

“Maker’s arse, finally someone who _agrees,_ ” Alistair replied, “I mean… er… are we talking about how to address one another, or…” Fergus laughed.  
“Relax, I’m not here to squabble over a Teyrnir. My sister has more than earned it if she wants it.”  
“We’re going to need to catch up first Fergus,” Fela interrupted, “material matters can wait for a bit.”  
“Oh, I know,” Fergus replied innocently, “Hero of Ferelden.”

Fela stopped dead in her tracks to turn around and glare at her brother, who was smirking from ear to ear.

“You think that’s funny? Brother dearest?” she hissed menacingly.  
“Oh I wouldn’t want to piss off the Hero of Ferelden,” he replied, “she’d kick my little noble ass if I did that.” Fela rolled her eyes.  
“I’m never going to hear the end of this,” she said to no one in particular then turned back to Fergus, “you’re lucky I’m still healing.”  
“I’ll bet, dragon slayer,” Fergus quipped.  
“’Archdemon slayer,’” Fela corrected before resuming her pace with her head held high.  
“I was referring to Flemeth actually,” Fergus replied in cheerful tones as he followed her.  
“Ah, then ‘legendary Witch of the Wilds and high dragon shapeshifter slayer,’ would be the correct term,” Fela answered dryly, “if you are going to mock me, at least do it right.”  
“I wouldn’t dream of mocking the legendary slayer of demons and darkspawn,” Fergus replied.

It continued from there, Fergus and Fela traded barbs back and forth easily. After all, they had been doing it for years.

Magnus shook his head at the bickering siblings and shared a look with Alistair. This was a good thing, they were quickly falling into familiar patterns, even though so much had changed for them.

“Ehm, what’s the plan here guys?” Alistair asked, “because when Fela says ‘catch up,’ that means we have a very long story to tell.”  
“How about tonight, after the banquet? We can move the meeting with Eamon and Teagan to tomorrow morning,” Fela offered and looked at Magnus.  
“I’ll let them know,” her uncle replied before stepping up next to Fergus and slapping him on the back, “good to have you back lad.”  
“It’s good to see you too uncle,” Fergus answered, “will you join us? I hear you’ve played your part in this outcome masterfully.”  
“Aye, lad, I’ll be there,” he rumbled with a nod.  
“Great, let’s get that coronation over with and then we can get to the drinking,” Alistair concluded. Fergus, Magnus, and Fela heartily agreed.

The ceremony, was thankfully short. The Grand Cleric seemed to agree that there was no need for long, and dreadfully boring, speeches. Though she did read a passage from the Chant of Light. A monotonous recital of the Canticle of Benedictions, and she couldn’t seem to keep the grandmotherly scowl off her face each time she looked at Alistair. Then he was crowned. He knelt before the Grand Cleric and she placed a golden crown on his head.

Wrought by Wade, as a present for the new King. A broad circlet, adorned with subtle ornaments. Nothing gaudy like the fur lined velvet hats with a golden frame around it so cramped with gemstones and ornate ornaments that it weighs over twenty pounds some monarchs like to wear. Nothing like the intricately wrought crown Cailan used to wear.

This one was much more modest, as befitted Alistair himself. He didn’t need a twenty pound piece of gold, or a wealth of gemstones on his head. He never wanted it. He was stepping up to a responsibility, he was there to do a job. And the crown that the Grand Cleric placed on his head symbolised just that. Wade had outdone himself, creating a crown that was regal yet modest.

After that, Alistair called Fela forward to formally present her as his betrothed. For her role in stopping the Blight, he granted her a boon of her choice. Fela figured she was rich and powerful enough, so she asked only that the Grey Wardens would never be forgotten again. She had a few other things on her mind but now was not the time. He pulled her aside after the announcements.

“Maker, I can’t wait to be alone with you,” he whispered and placed a soft kiss behind her ear. It made goose bumps rise on her skin.  
“Getting a little frisky, your Grace?” she teased. He chuckled.  
“Should have known you would say something like that. Insolent little minx, aren’t you?”  
“I wouldn’t dare,” she replied with an innocent smile, “I’m merely stating the obvious,” her eyes flittered down briefly and back up. She grinned when she saw Alistair looking down at his groin.  
“Made you look,” she teased and took off to meet her adoring public.

Alistair watched her go with an amused glare, letting his gaze lower to her backside and linger there.  
“Enjoying yourself, your Majesty?” came Fergus’ voice from right behind him. Alistair startled a bit but quickly regained his composure remembering there were other people around.  
“Whatever do you mean?” Alistair asked innocently.  
“Your face,” Fergus smirked. Alistair smiled.  
“That obvious, huh?”  
“If it helps, she’s just as obvious,” Fergus answered, “I’ve never quite seen her like this.”  
“We’ve grown very close over the course of the Blight,” Alistair replied, “she’s…” he chuckled, “she’s the best damn woman I’ve ever seen, I love her.”  
“I figured you must,” Fergus replied, “she never would have said yes if it wasn’t because you love each other. I’m glad, that it’s not just a political marriage. Is it true you were betrothed long before you moved on Loghain?”  
“It is,” Alistair said, “asked her in a clammy tent if she would marry me,” he chuckled again, “I half expected we’d be taking hearth vows.”  
“She’s not the kind of girl to go giddy and bouncy over the idea of marriage,” Fergus chuckled, “I don’t think she would have objected if you had offered.”  
“It was early in our relationship, we were on the run from Loghain, scrambling to secure the treaties,” Alistair said as he followed Fela with his gaze, “we weren’t really thinking ahead at the time. Then we decided I would take my brother’s throne, and I asked her if she would be my Queen. And she said ‘yes.’”

“Well, whatever it is you’re doing, it must be good,” Fergus smirked, “if she said ‘yes’ twice.”  
“I honestly don’t know,” Alistair replied, “if I did I would do it more, she seems to like it.” At this Fergus burst out in snorty laughter, turning a few heads. Alistair gave Fergus a sideways look.

“It only now occurs to me what that sounds like,” he said blandly, poorly concealing a smile.  
“O-ho, we’re going to have a good time, little brother in law,” Fergus said mischievously.  
“You’re not going to go all ‘big brother watching out for his little sister’ and try to beat me up, are you?” Alistair retorted with a lopsided gin and a raised eyebrow.  
“I think Fae has got it covered, I’ve been relieved of that duty since she was fourteen,” Fergus smirked, “besides, my sister looks happy, that means more than you know.”

Alistair simply nodded, he had a feeling he knew exactly what Fergus was talking about, but this was hardly the time and place.

“We’ll talk more later,” Alistair said, “I see Eamon waving that he wants to introduce me to some people. If you’ll excuse me.”  
“Of course,” Fergus said with a polite nod and watched Alistair walk over to Eamon.

Fela slowly made her way through the guests before making an appearance on the balcony. She took care to speak to all the people who had fought with her. Not only her companions, but many of the attending nobles too.

Oghren was enjoying the ale, Sten was feeling betrayed that there was no cake, Zevran was enjoying every good looking person in the room, Wynne was reconciling with her colleagues from the Circle, and Shale and Leliana were discussing the current fashion of the attendees. She missed Morrigan’s signature scowl from a partly concealed hiding place, where she would stand and observe the crowd in content silence. There would be no more yellow eyes watching her from dark and hidden places.

She would have to get a cat or something.

When Fela finally stepped out onto the balcony with Alistair, she wasn’t prepared for the welcome they would receive. People were cheering and shouting their names for what seemed like miles, she was glad they were high up on a balcony.

“For how long do we stand here?” Alistair asked her quietly as he waved uncertainly at the people below.  
“I don’t know, ten minutes?” Fela replied.  
“You’re the noble bred one, I’m just a bastard,” Alistair said with a shrug, “don’t ask me.”

He grinned when she gave him a scowl and kissed her cheek, eliciting an even greater roar from the public.

“Just smile and wave honey,” Fela said and leaned into him a bit. He put his arm around her waist.  
“I wish that worked for everything.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.  
“Me too.”  
“Tired already?”  
“Of formalities and playing nice with nobles? Absolutely,” she replied.  
“Perhaps you need a short rest, before the banquet,” Alistair suggested.  
“Tempting,” Fela answered, “think you can sneak off?”  
“I’ll think of something,” he replied with a mischievous smile.

After enough time had passed that her retreat would not be considered unseemly, Fela excused herself.

She instinctively took to shadows and blind spots while she made her exit, as a way of avoiding any more chatty nobles that wanted to know how big the Archdemon’s teeth were. Or, how many toes it had on each of its feet. Why that mattered, Fela had no clue. She wasn’t counting toes while the damn thing was trying to kill her. One or two had even asked what its genitals had looked like. Fela had suggested a nice beastiary to look up the anatomy of high dragons for that one.

The Archdemon questions were amusing at first, but repeating yourself over and over again gets tedious. And she really did fancy a little break from the socialising. Rather than making it easier for her to navigate the social customs, her sensitivity meant it was hard work to be in a crowd and talking to many different people. For Fela, it was a bombardment of stimuli that required a constant effort on her part to keep what she didn’t want to deal with out.

Unless of course, she got piss drunk. But she would rather not with all the nobles in the country present. If she was going to get piss drunk she would do it in private.

She took the servants route back to the royal wing. Servants would just diligently go on about their business, they wouldn’t bother her, currently residing nobles would. There were quite a few at the moment, many estates were destroyed or damaged in the battle. So naturally, those that couldn’t stay at their own keep were invited to stay in the royal palace, which remained mostly unscathed. The same couldn’t be said for Fort Drakon.

Fela gave a polite nod to an elf that passed her by. Always treat your staff respectfully, the first rule of running a household. Or at least, if you were receiving their care.

She made it to their chambers without incident, pleasantly surprised when she found Alistair waiting. She locked the door behind her before crossing the room, shedding clothes and boots on the way. Her rapiers she set gently down on a dresser as she passed it, the rest was dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

Alistair worked on the straps of the dagger on her forearm when he reached her, pulling her against himself and capturing her lips with his. She moaned appreciatively, using her free hand to undo the ties of Alistair’s pants. With her arm free of the dagger, she lifted up her shirt to pull it off and shake her hair out. Still adorned with various shades of blue and purple bruises, she was as beautiful as she had ever been to Alistair.

He wriggled down her leggings while she pulled off her breastband, and chuckled when he found another small knife strapped to her thigh.  
“How would you even reach it there?” he asked while looking up and kissed her thigh.  
“False pocket,” she said before stepping out of her leggings and turning to let Alistair undo the straps of the knife, “there was one in each of my boots too.” He chuckled again and ran his fingers lightly up her bare legs.  
“Psycho,” he teased.  
“That speaks well of you,” she quipped.  
“I’ve got nothing to lose, I’m already a bastard,” He retorted, and let his fingers whisper up her inner thigh.  
“Also King,” she countered playfully, “and a Grey Warden, how scandalous.”  
“A perversity, really,” he replied and brushed his fingers along her lips before slowly inching her panties down her thighs.  
“How wo-” she cut off her words with a gasp when Alistair flicked his tongue along her sex.

She stepped out of her panties when they dropped around her ankles, and let Alistair move one of her legs over his shoulder while he knelt in front of her. Grabbing her ass firmly with one hand, he steadied her hip with the other, helping her stand while she shivered and writhed from pleasure. She gripped his shoulder with one hand and ran the other through his hair. Tracing her fingernails over his scalp.

He circled her clit with his tongue, tantalisingly slow, listening to the short gasps of breath she made when he closed in on the middle of his circle. She was beginning to push herself against him now, looking for more contact. He smiled as he licked, laved, and suckled, making her moan louder bit by bit. Alistair moved one of his hands, slipping his middle finger inside of her. She pressed down on his hand, gushing down on his knuckles. He felt himself strain uncomfortably against his pants, and released his other hand to pull himself free. Fela wobbled a bit when let go, but steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders.

Alistair let out a sigh when he sprang free, and sucked on Fela’s clit when she started to ride his finger to keep her still. She cried out and dug her nails into his shoulders when he slipped in another, struggling to keep still for him. He kept her there, sucking and licking on her clit while he slowly curled his fingers inside her and moved them. She produced a series of unintelligible murmurings while he worked.

He kept going until he felt her thighs tremble and her inner walls ripple and quiver with the pending orgasm around his fingers. He picked her up then, suddenly but carefully and sat down with her on the sofa. He pulled off his shirt while Fela reached down and guided him to her opening to lower herself onto him. He groaned, pressing up into her and grabbing hold of her hips. The sound was muffled when she crashed her lips onto his, holding his head in her hands to tilt his chin up, and started moving.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and kissing her back so fiercely she moaned and melted into his arms. Her movements were long and luxurious, rotating her hips to match the movements of his. She soon lost herself in the rhythm, letting her world be reduced to what her senses were telling her. How Alistair felt on her skin and inside of her, how he tasted with her honey still on his lips, the sounds of his gasps and moans while they moved. The smell of his sweat and the sight of him. And all the while there was his melody underneath. Hidden in the pulses and vibrations that resonated from him. She let it fill her, let herself drown in it, forgetting herself completely. There was only Alistair, she whispered his name against his lips, over and over again.

Alistair held her as she surrendered to ecstasy, following her willingly. Keeping her close against him while they moved. Her hands rested on his shoulders now, her forehead against his. Fela kissed him feverishly in between whispers. Teasing and exploring with her tongue. He parted his lips for her, revelling in her taste.

She was hot, slick, and tight on his cock, her movements were excruciatingly delicious. He breathed in her whisperings, feeling himself soar to a high that numbed any thought. Fela moved, relentlessly, until he was gritting his teeth to last as long as he could. She was close, he felt it in the way she quivered around him.

She picked up the pace, and held herself at a specific angle. The last few movements became more erratic as she clenched around him at her peak, making Alistair spill inside her. The throbbing of his cock send her tumbling over the edge, prolonging his orgasm as she twitched and clenched on his length.

Fela didn’t remember being carried to the bed, and Alistair slipping under the sheets beside her. After going limp in Alistair’s arms she had fallen into a deep state of drowsy bliss. Going along with being carried to the bed and curling up under the sheets. Alistair let her sleep, snuggling up beside her and dozing off.

They ended up being late for the banquet. No questions were asked, but the smirks, smiles, and the odd glare said enough. Fela and Alistair couldn’t be bothered to care, their relationship was no secret.

The pair figured nobody would be complaining if their sneaking off led to a healthy heir. As promised, Fela had stopped taking any contraceptives. And she had tentatively started to hope, hoping they were still fertile, that they could still have a baby. Nobody would care if it was conceived before they were married, so long as it was born after.

After the banquet they retired with Fergus and Magnus to tell her brother the full story of what happened during the Blight. Fela and Alistair were both thankful they had taken a nap, it took the better part of the night. Fergus had many questions, and Magnus had a question too here and there.

They didn’t hold much back, save Avernus, Urthemiel, the reason for Morrigan’s departure, and some of Fela peculiarities. But gave the unadulterated truth about the rest.

Fergus and Magnus both wholeheartedly approved of the way Fela had killed Rendon Howe. They felt there was a kind of poetry to pulling the man’s guts from his abdomen. They felt the arrow was an undeserved mercy, and Fergus advised Fela to nick the large intestine next time. It would stink but it was a sure ticket to a horrible death if the victim didn’t bleed out.

Fela considered the advice, and decided it was solid. Giving her brother a respectful nod.

Fergus fretted about the night terrors having returned, offering to stay in a room nearby in case he was needed. Fela tried to reassure him she would be fine, Urthemiel had her back now, but she couldn’t tell him that. Alistair appreciated Fergus’ protectiveness towards his sister, but Fela got a little defensive. Alistair decided not to get mixed up in it, given the history of the night terrors.

When Fergus was finally fully up to speed, it was decided that he would take the position as Teyrn of Highever. As he was always supposed to, though it had been Fela to whom he had restored the Cousland lands and titles and who had bent the knee to Alistair.

Fergus immediately caught on what Fela’s idea of bending the knee entailed, and declared he was fine with the way things were settled so long as he didn’t have to do it. Fela rolled her eyes at that. Alistair blushed. When they finally made it to bed, Fela didn’t even bother fully undressing before curling up on the bed with Asher and falling asleep almost immediately.

Despite the nap earlier that day, she was exhausted. After all, it had been the battle of a lifetime, and she was still recovering.


	62. Back To Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela and Alistair get started on rebuilding Denerim and meet the Orlesian Wardens.

The next morning was spent in a meeting with Magnus, Teagan, Eamon, and, unfortunately, Vaughan Kendells.

Fela’s distaste for the man grew immensely that morning.

He refused to spare men and resources for the repairs that were needed in the Alienage, insisting on repairs to keeps and estates first. Rather than the city wall, the market district, the harbour, or say, the barracks. It took some work on Fela’s part, but by the end of the meeting he agreed to lay priorities elsewhere.

The Arl of Denerim, was angry though, cursing and swearing at her for manipulating the other men and seizing control of the throne for herself. Alistair had broken Vaughan’s nose and blackened both of his eyes by the time Magnus managed to pull him off so Eamon and Teagan could subdue Vaughan while they shouted for the palace guard.

Fela had not raised a finger during the event, she calmly let it happen, a small smile playing around her lips when the former Arl of Denerim was dragged off to a dungeon.

Vaughan Kendells had been easy to manipulate, she had remained infuriatingly calm during the exchange while she made valid points to get the city up and running before working on noble Estates. Estates whose owners could easily afford to make their own repairs. When the other men present in the room had agreed with her, he had relented. But he had also been terribly humiliated, and more importantly, he had not gotten his way.

To Vaughan, Fela had disgraced him in the vilest of ways in front of what he considered his peers. She was half surprised he hadn’t outright attacked her, but he might have if Alistair had not delivered the first blow. Normally not one to let others fight her battles for her, Fela had made an exception to let Vaughan rage on and on until he had sealed his own fate.

It could be called manipulation, but it was actually much simpler than that. She had simply done what she was there for, knowing full well how Vaughan would react if she did. She might have been able to trick him into doing what she wanted without a temper tantrum, but that would not have solved the problem. Vaughan Kendells needed to go, no way around it. This way, at least, it was due to his own lack of self-restraint.

“Well then,” Fela said, “we’ll be needing a new Arl of Denerim.”   
“I’ll draw up a list of suggestions,” Teagan nodded and added it to his notes.   
“We’ll still need someone to replace him in the meantime, Magnus?” Alistair asked.

The bear nodded and gathered up Vaughan’s notes, looked them over, and dropped them with a sour look to make his own. They had yet to find a good scribe they trusted enough to attend and record their meetings. There was one, but he had yet to recover from a head injury that made it difficult for him to use his working memory, and that could take a while. He could at least hold a pen well enough, but his focus was scattered, he’d forget half a sentence before managing to pen it down. It drove the poor man to tears. For now they had him help clearing away rubble, since it made him feel useful.

“The next problem is,” Eamon began, “ah, you’ll like this one, the Orlesian Wardens. As my brother can attest, they have been insistent on getting some answers on why you still live,” he looked over at Fela, “they seem to think you should be dead.”   
“Rest assured they are wrong,” Fela replied, “we’ll handle it.”   
“If I may ask, as Commander of the Grey, what do you intend to do?” Eamon asked.   
“We’ll tell them that we were two junior Grey Wardens who had barely a clue what we were doing, beside building an army. Alistair and I actually know very few Grey Warden secrets, they have never been shared with us. For whatever reason they seem to think I should be dead, I don’t know where they get it from. This was the fifth Blight in recorded history, they have only four other, _incomplete,_ accounts from centuries ago to base themselves on. Any self-respecting academic would pull his hair out at so quick a conclusion. What do I even have in common with those other four? They should be asking themselves what has happened while they were watching from across the border how we did their job for them.”

“A good point,” Eamon assented, “will you be continuing as Commander of the Grey?”   
“For now,” Fela replied, “I’m still considering what to do about that.”   
“Let me rephrase,” Eamon said, “do you _want_ to continue serving as Commander of the Grey?”   
“Honestly, only so long as it suits me,” she replied.   
“What does that mean?”   
“It means I’m going to figure out my position in the Order first, before I make any decisions.” She looked at Alistair, “shall we ask them to join us for lunch?”   
“Couldn’t decide between eating or talking first?” he smirked. She shrugged.   
“I can talk and eat, the trick is to not do both at the same time, but alternate between them,” she quipped, “and I’m hungry.” Alistair raised his hands.   
“You had me at ‘lunch,’” he said and turned to Eamon, “anything else on the shit list?”

“The Arling of Amaranthine and Nathaniel Howe’s return to Ferelden,” Eamon answered.   
“Leliana is on Howe,” Fela answered, and looked at Alistair.   
“I am considering bestowing the Arling on the Grey Wardens, they’ll need to rebuilt, and they need a place to do it,” Alistair added.   
“The local nobility won’t like it,” Fela warned.   
“But it would put us in a strategic position to ensure they don’t get any funny ideas,” he retorted, “and as I understand, Vigil’s Keep is suited for the Grey Warden’s needs. It saves us having to build our own base.”   
“What about the Peak?” she asked.   
“Well… it’s remote, not particularly easy to reach, and it has Avernus in it,” Alistair replied.

“Who is Avernus?” Magnus asked.   
“A Grey Warden mage, old, very old. And cranky,” Alistair explained, “the Chantry would see him as a dangerous apostate. I don’t want them to think they have reason to interfere with Grey Warden business.”   
“The Chantry doesn’t have any authority over the Grey Wardens,” Eamon pointed out.   
“And neither do we want to give them a reason to think they need it,” Alistair answered, “I want them cooperative. Not in a witch hunt frenzy.”

Eamon stared at Alistair for a moment, this was coming from the man who had spent over thirteen years of his life serving the Chantry.

“Very well,” Eamon said, “the Vigil is as suited as any other keep in the country. And it needs a leader with their Arl gone.”   
“I’d rather not go there as Commander of the Grey and killer of their liege Lord,” Fela said warningly.   
“You are suited for the task lass,” Magnus weighed in.   
“And if I decide to leave the Grey Wardens?” she asked.   
“Then we’ll come up with a different plan,” he said reassuringly, “you’ll do fine.” Fela sighed.   
“Let’s put a pin in this one until I speak to those Orlesian Wardens.”   
“Fair enough,” Alistair said, “put it on the list for tomorrow.”

They wrapped it up and each got on with their own duties, leaving Fela and Alistair behind in the room. The pair decided to take lunch on one of the balconies from which they could see the ruins of Fort Drakon. A small reminder that the Orlesian Wardens had not been there when the Archdemon had been slain. Fela wore a dress that exposed her shoulders, one of which was still bruised and healing. Another reminder, that the Orlesian Wardens had not been in the battle.

Also a subtle hint of vulnerability, meant to make the Orlesians underestimate her. Her hair was put up to accentuate her delicate neckline and expose the vulnerable skin. The bruise of the side of her head had started to fade a bit, but was still a stark contrast to her ivory skin, spreading from her temple. She flashed a charming smile when the Orlesian Grey Wardens came out onto the balcony, escorted by Leliana and two servants.

“You must be the Orlesian Grey Wardens we’ve heard so much about,” she said politely and gestured for the pair to come forward. Leliana bowed politely, while the Wardens refrained from any such gesture.   
“Wardens Cousland and Theirin,” said a middle-aged man with light brown hair pulled together in a loose ponytail, “I am Frederic Coutreaux, Grey Warden in service of the Orlesian Order. This is Armand le Goff, also a brother of the Orlesian Wardens.” He gestured to a younger man with sharp features, his nose was a little too pointy and his chin was a little too narrow, the set of his eyes was too close together and his brow was thin. Fela disliked him instantly.   
“Please sit,” she said, gesturing to the free chairs. A servant poured two glasses of wine and put them on the table while another served the food. Since the Wardens remained quiet, the King decided to move things along.

“We understand you have questions,” Alistair began, “on how the Archdemon was defeated.”   
“Indeed,” said Coutreaux, “how did you accomplish such a feat?” he added as he turned to Fela, his eyes briefly flashing over her bruised skin.   
“With a bolt from a ballista, it would seem,” Fela replied, taking a small sip of wine and looked at the man across the table from her over her cup.   
“You fired a ballista at it?” he asked.   
“Yes, several times so we could incapacitate it. But the killing blow was struck with a bolt, without the ballista. They make decent spears,” she replied pleasantly and put down the cup.

“Where did you strike it?”   
“Into the base of its skull.”   
“How did you get on top of the Archdemon?”   
“I used the bolt as a step before pulling it out the side of its neck. It was gravely wounded at the time, and didn’t have the strength to throw me off.”   
“Why were you the one to take the final blow?”   
“Because I was close enough to have a chance,” Fela said curtly, “and because Riordan fell to his death after trying to jump onto the Archdemon from a tower.”

“Have there really only been two of you this entire time?”   
“Our brothers were still with us at Ostagar, it was the treachery of Loghain Mac Tir that led to the slaughter of a third of the Ferelden forces, its King, and all the Grey Wardens but us.”   
“Why weren’t you in the battle?”   
“King Cailan ordered us to light the beacon that was to signal General Loghain’s forces to flank the horde. All the other Grey Wardens died that night. We found Riordan in Rendon Howe’s dungeon about a week before the battle of Denerim.” Fela dropped that last bit casually.   
“No others?”   
“None.”

“Why didn’t you run?”   
“Why does that matter?”   
“It matters to us.”   
“And again, why does that matter?” Fela repeated and stared at the Orlesian Warden in front of her.

“Your unwillingness to tell me, tells me it is worth knowing,” he said smugly while he crossed his arms. Fela chuckled.   
“It does? Why, tell me the value of this; I had lost everything and everyone I ever loved and I figured it was something to do. I’d rather die fighting than lay down and wait. The Blight was going to happen either way.”   
“You figured that raising an army and going into battle with an Archdemon was ‘something to do?’” the man asked incredulously.   
“You know who I am?” Fela asked. Coutreaux nodded.   
“Then you know what I’ve lost.”   
“It doesn’t explain the sudden urge to go after an Archdemon, there are easier ways to die.”   
“Would you have fallen on your sword rather than do the duty you have sworn to uphold?” Fela asked flatly, Coutreaux gave no answer.

“How did you survive the battle of Ostagar?” le Goff asked, drawing Fela’s attention away from his brother.   
“We very nearly didn’t, a powerful apostate saved us,” Alistair answered.   
“How did she do that?” le Goff inquired.   
“I am not quite sure of the details of it, I was unconscious at the time. But I am told she shapeshifted into a giant hawk, and picked us off the tower of Ishal, where we lit the beacon,” Alistair answered.   
“This would be Flemeth then?” le Goff asked triumphantly, though neither Fela nor Alistair were sure why.   
“So she would have us believe, yes,” Alistair said.   
“And one of her daughters was sent to aid you, an apostate named Morrigan, yes?” le Goff continued, Alistair nodded.

“Where is she now?” le Goff asked, fixing Alistair’s gaze with his.   
“I honestly wouldn’t know, she departed after the Archdemon was slain, as she said she would,” he replied.   
“Why did she leave?” le Goff pressed on.   
“We didn’t get along very well, she wanted to stop the Blight because it threatened her and her mother as well. But she wasn’t by any means a friend,” Alistair said.   
“What need would you have for an apostate from the Wilds,” le Goff mused, “she must have possessed some knowledge or skill that you kept her in your company?”

“Is either of you a mage?” Fela asked. Both men shook their heads.   
“Have you ever fought alongside a mage?” she continued.  
“Of course we have,” Coutreaux said impatiently.   
“Then you should know the value of a skilled one,” Fela said.

“It is rumoured she is a shapeshifter as well,” he countered.   
“She is,” Fela said with a nod, “a skill passed down by her mother.”   
“Flemeth the Shapeshifter?” Coutreaux said incredulously.   
“That’s what Morrigan said,” Fela replied offhandedly. 

She was quickly tiring of this beating around the bush. The Orlesians were asking questions they already knew the answer to, to see if they would contradict them. A tedious game but it had to be played.

“Did you trust her?” Coutreaux asked.   
“She saved our lives on more than one occasion, yes I trust her,” Fela said in a voice clear as spring water.   
“Did you entrust her with any knowledge that belongs to the Order?” Coutreaux continued. Fela snorted.   
“What knowledge would _that_ be? Nobody told us anything. We know we can sense darkspawn and they sense us, we know we have about thirty years to live, and that we get to enjoy terrible nightmares, but that’s it.”   
“Were you aware of the sacrifice that has to be made in order to defeat an Archdemon?”   
“Not until Riordan told us in Redcliffe, the evening before we marched on Denerim.”   
“And were you prepared to make that sacrifice?”   
“Not thrilled, but prepared, yes. One life cut short is nothing compared to the lives that have already been lost, and those that can be saved,” Fela replied.

“So why didn’t you?”

Coutreaux’s words hang in the air for a moment before Fela spoke. Her already dark eyes had turned nearly black, she fixed Coutreaux’s gaze with hers.

“’Why didn’t I make that sacrifice?’ Warden Coutreaux,” she said in a dangerously low voice, “do not mistake my being alive with shrugging my duty. For an order that claims to seek to stop Blights by _any_ means necessary, you stood by and watched from the border for an awfully long time. We have achieved within the span of a year, what our predecessors took decades. And believe it or not, we knew little, if _anything_ , more than they did. Now, how does that make you look to the rest of Thedas?”

The silence that followed caused even Alistair to shift in his seat while Fela stared daggers at Coutreaux. He opened his mouth to respond, but no sounds came out. He looked remarkably like a fish out of the water, gulping air. Le Goff tensed, red creeping up the sides of his neck.

“How dare you!? Grey Wardens do not interfere with politics! Yet you two _upstarts,_ have caused irreparable damage to the Order’s integrity by crowning a Warden King! You abused the Order to seize power for yourselves! How does that make _you_ look?”

Fela shifted her gaze to le Goff, who tried to look anywhere but into her black eyes. She chuckled a little at his ungraceful display.

“Like ‘the Hero of Ferelden,’ who delivered the throne to the rightful King of Ferelden after his brother was usurped by a traitor.” Le Goff narrowed his eyes at her, still not quite looking into her eyes.   
“You _arrogant, gold digging-”_

_“Enough,”_ Alistair snapped, “Warden Coutreaux, Warden le Goff, you will treat my betrothed with the respect that she is due. You came here to ask questions, not to insult our efforts in stopping the Blight.” Le Goff snapped back to Alistair.   
“And you will treat your _senior Wardens_ with the respect they are due, _recruit_.”

“You forget yourself,” Alistair replied coldly and rose, “I want you gone before nightfall. If you remain, I will have you forcibly escorted out of the city. Tell your Commander we will send our statements to him, but we will entertain no more interrogations.”

The Ferelden Wardens stood, and left without another word. The Orlesian Wardens voiced their protest, but were pointedly ignored. Alistair marched out without looking back, Fela followed with a small smile playing around her lips.

Alistair had handled the situation remarkably well in her opinion. The Orlesian Wardens were beyond rude, King or not, there was no reason to tolerate such behaviour from a guest in your home. Coutreaux and le Goff were obviously not there because they wanted to know what had truly happened, they had been looking for some kind of justification for their own attitudes.

The conversation was going nowhere, in fact it had been spiralling. He did not raise his voice, he didn’t lose his composure, and he didn’t give way. He wouldn’t be bullied into whatever it was that the Orlesians wanted, which he made perfectly clear.

* * *

Fela followed with a thoughtful look on her face, it almost felt like these Wardens held some grudge against them.

She had merely been probing Coutreaux when she asked him how the Order currently looked to the rest of Ferelden, but the response had been derailed enough to determine that there probably was some kind of beef. But being Orlesians, they wouldn’t just come out and say it. Alistair was bristling with anger while she went over the conversation in her head.

They had been interested in Morrigan, something Fela didn’t like. And the blatant refusal to address Alistair as ‘your Majesty’ or ‘your Grace,’ spoke volumes. Le Goff had even gone so far as to call Alistair ‘recruit’ and he had probably been planning to follow up the words, ‘arrogant, gold digging’ with something like ‘whore’ or ‘harpy,’ before Alistair cut him off. Coutreaux had been a bit more subtle in his underhanded mockery, but he wasn't much more respectful than Le Goff.

Fela’s preferred way of dealing with people like these was to humiliate them in a duel, but that just wasn’t a fitting reaction in a situation like this. However, they had proven themselves terrible guests, the norms of hospitality work both ways. Respect your guest as you would respect your host and vice versa. Kicking them out on those grounds was as valid a reason as any other.

And much more relatable to other people than say, an accusation of foul play during the Blight. Which hadn’t been made, but pointedly evaded. Either the Orlesian Wardens had little experience in diplomatic matters or something else was going on.

“Alistair?”   
“Hmm?”   
“I’m going to the library, to see if I can find any reference to… whatever the Grey Wardens know about slaying an Archdemon,” Fela said.   
“I’ll come with you,” he replied, “might as well get started on writing those statements I just promised.”   
“More lunch too?” Fela asked, “I didn’t quite eat my fill just now.” Alistair chuckled.   
“Yes, definitely more lunch. And we at least need to figure out what to tell Magnus, Eamon, and Teagan about our talk with those two Wardens.”   
“I think I want to include Fergus,” Fela said, “our family had been dealing with most of Cailan’s international relations, and this business with the Wardens might be a bit of a strain on the Orlesian relations specifically.”   
“And it would allow you to spent more time with your brother,” Alistair quipped. Fela shrugged.   
“He’s a good diplomat, and currently our only Teyrn.”   
“That reminds me,” Alistair said, “we need to deal with Anora sooner or later.”   
“Oh, yes, almost forgot about her,” Fela said, “Fergus might have some ideas on that too.”   
“Good point,” Alistair assented.

Servants were sent to fetch people, food, and writing utensils, and books were pulled from shelves and deposited on a large table in the centre of the room. Fela dove into the books with a fervour. She had missed this. Ok, there had been some library dwelling in Orzammar, but that had mostly been tedious work. She had enjoyed spending time in the library at Highever too. If she wasn’t training or messing around somewhere, she was in the library. Either reading up on something random that had gotten her attention, or looking for a specific answer to a question that had popped up in her head during the day.

For instance, whether ants employed shared tactics and strategies to built their nests. How can so many little individuals work together so efficiently? She had never figured out the answer, people didn’t seem that interested in the study of ants.

As she had expected, they found quite a bit of Grey Warden lore, Cailan had idolised them and gotten his hands on anything he could get. Alistair covered the texts that were written in common while Fela took care of the texts in other languages. Most of it was Orlesian, but there was quite a bit of Anders too, which made sense, Weisshaupt was in the Anderfells. She set to translating bits that might interest Alistair, and jotting down any information that might be useful. She didn’t look up when she heard Magnus and Fergus enter.

“What are we doing?” Fergus asked as he sat down next to his sister and looked over her notes.   
“I’m trying to figure out what is known about Archdemon slaying, how much of it is certain, and how the information has been acquired. How is your Anders these days?” Fela replied. Fergus made a gesture as if balancing something.   
“I haven’t been using it much, but I suppose I can make sense of written text,” he replied, “my Antivan is better.” She looked up for a moment to give her brother a sad smile.   
“I’ll just mark the bits I can’t make sense of and you can look them over later,” he finally said and took one of the heavy tomes.   
“No that’s alright,” Fela said, “you take Orlesian and I’ll take Anders.” She switched their books and handed Fergus her notes.

“Why are you doing this now Fae?” Magnus asked as he looked over the titles of the scattered tomes, “the Archdemon is already dead.”   
“The Orlesian Wardens seem… unhappy, that I’m alive. I want to know why,” she replied.   
“Did you try asking them?” he asked and she snorted.   
“They’re Orlesians, uncle.” Magnus grunted his agreement and picked up a book.

“Your lunch didn’t go well then?” Teagan asked as he and Eamon entered the library.   
“Depends on what you mean by that,” Alistair replied.   
“Why? What happened?” Eamon asked, lines of worry already forming on his brow.   
“They were rude,” Alistair said simply, “I kicked them out.”   
“Rude?”   
“Yes, rude,” Alistair repeated, “insulting Fela, interrogating us as if they had already determined we had done something wrong, and suggesting we defer to them as senior Wardens.” Eamon frowned while Teagan gave a consenting nod, and a shrug.

“We can’t have our King defer to two strange Orlesian Wardens,” he said simply, and joined the rest at the table. Eamon finally gave a nod at his brother’s assessment, and joined at the table as well.

Fela gave a short account of the conversation with the Orlesian Wardens, leaving out the part where they had been interested in Morrigan. She preferred to keep that bit between Alistair and herself for now. No reason for them to think Morrigan had anything to do with it. This way they couldn’t let anything slip either. It left the men frowning.

“You’d think,” Fergus said, “that they would at least thank you.” He made a twirling gesture with his hand.   
“I don’t know, something like; 'oh shit you killed the Archdemon, thanks for saving us having to do it, oh and, for saving so many people and literally the _land._ Good job on that! Now we don’t have to fight and die.'”   
“If I didn’t agree, I would point out your lack of eloquence,” Fela replied dryly.   
“Have they accused you of anything?” Fergus asked, more seriously.   
“No, and we’re not going to give them an opportunity to do so,” Fela answered, “they are being sent back to Orlais for being terrible guests, nothing more.” She looked at Alistair fondly, and he winked back at her.

“That will buy you time,” Fergus said, “but you can probably expect more of them.”   
“Let’s see who they send next, if they can behave, we have no problem answering their questions,” Fela replied, “in the meantime I need to learn more about Archdemon slaying, we should also check passages relating to the Taint and the effects of it.”   
“Should we be helping you with this?” Teagan asked, “this goes against your policy of secrecy.”   
“I have a thought or two on that policy, and how it has _fucked_ us,” Fela replied darkly before handing Teagan a tome, “find out all you can.” Teagan nodded and set to it.

Fela felt a bit like a hypocrite, holding back Morrigan’s part in the turn of events. But that wasn’t strictly Grey Warden business, if it should turn out that it mattered, she could always choose to share the information. Or so she told herself.

After Fela and Alistair were served their second lunch, they spent several hours scouring over texts and notes. Between the five of them, they managed to cover a good portion of the tomes they had collected before Eamon, Teagan, and Magnus were pulled toward other duties. Fela and Alistair ate dinner with Fergus in the library, spending the evening reading by candlelight and quietly talking.

The search wasn’t particularly fruitful, but these things rarely yield results so quickly. They would probably have to read between the lines, find references, check, and then cross reference them. It was going to take a lot more than an evening of content studying.

They were just getting started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are interested in the whole 'proper guest,' 'proper host,' 'and laws of hospitality' thing, I'm pretty sure it is derived from the laws of Xenia, which are generally attributed to Zeus. It basically teaches that a host must be hospitable to their guests and that guests should not be a burden to their hosts. Breaking the laws of Xenia means incurring the wrath of the gods. 
> 
> While we may not believe Zeus is gonna zap us with one of his famous lightning bolts nowadays, much of the laws of Xenia is upheld in general custom to this day.


	63. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations for the wedding are made, and Fela and Fergus go on a hunting trip.

With the Orlesian Wardens being send back to Orlais, Fela and Alistair slowly settled into rebuilding and ruling.

Fela remained in Denerim, establishing contacts in the Arling of Amaranthine and taking up her role as Arlessa. Their free evenings were spent in the library with Fergus, and occasionally Teagan, Magnus, or Eamon.

There were few correspondences with the Order, and Fela was content to leave it that way for now. She was slowly establishing a working relationship with their Orlesian counterpart. She did intend to rebuild, and she needed Orlais to do it. She had send reports, requests, and letters to Weisshaupt, but still awaited their reply. The sheer distance being the main cause of that. Orlais was simply closer and easier to correspond with. Though the Orlesians had not left a very good impression on her, so she wasn’t eager to invite them to Denerim, and eventually, Amaranthine.

As the weeks passed, Denerim was slowly starting to resemble something of a city again. Trade resumed quickly once the harbour had been cleared, something in which Magnus played a large part. Foreign merchants figured that their wares were much needed in Ferelden now that the Blight had been stopped. The crown and the Couslands payed for much of the materials needed to rebuild, restore roads, repair bridges, patch up walls and watchtowers, and providing shelter for people who had lost their homes under safe circumstances.

Camps of refugees that remained unorganised were often the epicentre of plague and disease due to poor hygiene and less than ideal living circumstances. With Blight disease being a big problem in the aftermath, Wynne, Eamon, and Teagan maintained a strict regiment, ordering latrines to be dug, providing a source of clean water, tending to the sick and wounded, and properly burning bodies.

But the land was still Blighted, where the darkspawn had invaded Ferelden, the earth was barren and any vegetation was dead. It would take decades for it to recover. And that posed a huge problem, there were not enough fields. Though all landholders had been ordered to plant grain and barley, chances were that there would not be enough food to last through winter. That meant Ferelden merchants would need to import it, and neighbouring countries took advantage of that. The prices of food would shoot up like weeds in high summer, and too many had lost too much.

It could cripple the still recovering Ferelden economy. Fela never cared much for economics, but Fergus had a good head for it. He was negotiating a deal with Orlais for several large shipments of grain and salt. Meanwhile Fela and Alistair saw no other choice than to order the Blighted lands burned. There was no other way to purify the earth beside waiting for about fifty years, and their treasury wouldn’t last that long if it needed to feed the citizens of the entire country to prevent famine every winter.

The Circle of Magi assisted in the systematic burning of the land, making sure the fire didn’t spread where it shouldn’t, healing the inevitable injuries such an undertaking would result in, and providing easy ignition.

Hopefully, the fire would destroy the corruption and the ash would fertilise the land. With luck, they would be able to sow seeds in the scorched planes within the year. But that remained to be seen. The aftermath of the Blight was worse than they had realised when they were focussed on ending it. They had not been thinking about agriculture and food production at the time.

There was plenty of time to work on those problems now, though. And slowly but surely, Ferelden started to recover. 

* * *

Leliana strode into Fela’s office.

The bard had been put in charge of planning the royal wedding, and she had taken to it with fervour. Fela didn’t have much interest in planning her wedding, to Leliana’s befuddlement. The Warden considered it a ceremony for the state and the people, not for Alistair and her.

Leliana saw some reason in that, though marriage was meant to celebrate their union, the spectacle around it was more about presenting an image than anything else. This had never bothered Leliana, as she revelled in spectacular events. But Fela didn’t share Leliana’s affinity with the idea of some big romantic fairy tale wedding. The idea of wearing a beautiful white dress didn’t excite her like Leliana had expected, making their love official and public, didn’t seem to be as important to her as Leliana had expected it to be.

To Fela, it was all a big parade for other people who enjoyed pretending it was for the bride and groom. At first this had frustrated Leliana to no end, she couldn’t seem to get Fela excited for her own wedding. The reason, was simply this; marriage didn’t change anything for Fela about how she felt about Alistair or how she treated him.

It took Leliana a while to understand Fela’s reasoning, finally she had decided that she had been through so much with Alistair at her side that marriage didn’t seem like a big deal anymore. Fela refrained from pointing out she had never held much value to the idea of marriage to begin with. She wasn’t fighting it, or complaining about it, she _wanted_ to marry Alistair, she simply wasn’t the blushing bride Leliana had envisioned.

To Fela, marriage was practical, but by no means necessary to love Alistair.

So she tasted different kinds of wedding cake, picked a dress from the designs of several seamstresses, choose the flowers, and the music, and set to the tedious job of determining a guestlist and determining each guest’s seat. Once Leliana had gotten used to Fela’s easy attitude towards the wedding, she found it fitting for her friend.

She also toned down her own giddiness a bit, it seemed to make the younger woman a little uncomfortable because it spurned on Isolde. Who had somehow managed to be involved with decorations which she insisted needed to match the dress of the bride. Fela didn’t see the necessity of it, but Isolde insisted. Finally Fela had simply given up, figuring it saved her a lot of trouble if she let Isolde take care of decorations, so long as she didn’t go overboard.

“Are you ready for your dress fitting?” Leliana chirped as Fela looked up from her desk.   
“Do I get to taste more appetizers and pastries?” Fela quipped and smiled. Leliana chuckled.   
“Naturally, just not with the dress on.”   
“That’s fair,” Fela replied as she rose, “will Isolde be there?”   
“She’s already with the seamstress,” Leliana said with a sympathetic smile.   
“No, that’s good,” Fela said, “the woman has impeccable taste.” Leliana nodded.   
“We can agree on that.”   
“Just don’t mention babies,” Fela replied, “or pregnancy, I can’t take any more of that.” Leliana laughed softly.   
“I’ll keep her on colours and styles, don’t worry.”   
“What am I going to do when you head for Haven,” Fela sighed.   
“You’ll figure something out, besides, I’m staying for the wedding,” Leliana replied fondly.   
“You’re going to need help taking out that high dragon that’s still sitting there,” Fela said thoughtfully, “that would be an awesome honeymoon.” Leliana laughed out loud.   
“You’re absolutely welcome to join me, _if_ you can convince Eamon and Teagan to let their King and Queen go after a high dragon.”   
“That’ll take some doing,” Fela answered mock pensively.

Her dragon fighting days were over, she wasn’t allowed to risk herself like that anymore. Not if there were others who could do it. It came with marrying a King, and she was fine with that, since this particular King was Alistair.

Fela and Leliana made their way back to the royal wing, talking about brother Genitivi and the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Leliana had been approached by the Revered Mother to lead an expedition to reclaim the ancient relic. She was honoured, and happily accepted the request. Fela was happy for her, although she was also a little saddened that her friend would eventually be leaving.

Isolde was inspecting different types of lace when Fela and Leliana entered the room.   
“Ah, there you are my dear,” the Arlessa said warmly, “we are just about ready here, why don’t you go get changed?” Fela gave her a polite smile and moved behind a folding screen to strip.

She briefly considered removing the dagger strapped to her thigh, but decided to keep it there. She would be wearing it under the dress anyway. She did remove the dagger on her forearm, she wouldn’t be wearing that and it would just get in the way now. She pulled on the robe that had been left for her, and moved to the sofa.

She watched the seamstress as she laid out different fabrics, needles, and pins and the like. Fela wondered how the elderly woman would react once she saw the scars. She didn’t imagine she had encountered many women as scarred as she was. Neither had she chosen a dress that concealed them.

Because that would have resulted in a dress more chaste than a Chantry sister robe, covered from her ankles and the base of her palms right up to her neck where it met the base of her skull.

So, she had decided not to conceal them at all. Her choice was a sleek silk, and lace dress, a wide neckline exposed the tops of her shoulders and dipped down low along her back. The lace sleeves covered her upper arms down to her wrists. The bodice fit snugly around her body, accentuating her figure. The skirt flared out below the curve of her hips and ended in a long train. Leliana had called it a mermaid model, which Fela found very fitting. While wearing her hair pinned up, the dress would expose the long silver scars on Fela’s back.

The seamstress had not seen them before when she took Fela’s measurements, but she would see them today. Leliana knew, of course. But Isolde didn’t. It would be interesting to watch both women react.

“Alright,” said the seamstress, as she put down the last of what she needed, “everything is ready for you, my Lady.” Fela stood.   
“Thank you, shall we get right to it then?” She walked to where the seamstress indicated before disrobing.

The woman had the grace not to gasp, she simply set about her task of helping Fela into the dress under the watchful eyes of Isolde and Leliana. She worked her way around Fela’s dress with pins to determine which parts needed to be adjusted. While it was a brilliant piece of work, adorned with precious stones and pearls, it was still easy to put on and move around in, due to the lack of a corset and layer upon layer of silk and lace and velvet, or whatever. As Fela always preferred, Leliana naturally understood this, she was a bard, she often had the same needs in clothing.

Isolde however, could have been expected to be puzzled by it, but she wasn’t. ‘The woman doesn’t need to fit the dress, the dress needs to fit the woman,’ she had replied when Fela mentioned her easy adaptation to a style so different from her own. It was perhaps the wisest thing to come from Isolde’s mouth so far.

“I wasn’t aware you bore quite so many marks, Lady Cousland,” Isolde said in a pleasant tone, it sounded just conversational to Fela and that made her turn her head in Isolde’s direction.   
“I am not quite as invincible as the stories would have you believe,” she replied with a polite smile. Isolde giggled.   
“You are close enough to it, as far as I can tell. Who did this?” she asked as she gestured to Fela’s back.   
“Not ‘who,’ but ‘what’” Fela replied, “it was a pride demon.” Isolde’s eyes widened.   
“A _pride demon_ did that?” Fela nodded.   
“It looks like I got lashed, I know, but that’s just because of our dear Wynne’s superb healing skills. I was quite torn to shreds.” Isolde shook her head.   
“How you can be so calm about these things, I will never understand.”   
“It gets easier when you get mixed up in stuff like that on the daily,” Fela quipped, “but I wouldn’t wish that upon you.” Isolde chuckled.   
“Oh, I’m not suited for these things. My talents lie elsewhere,” she said as she inspected the seams and the fit of the bodice and spoke to the seamstress on adjustments to the dress.

“You are surprisingly calm about the scars though, Isolde, knowing where they come from,” Leliana said easily as she watched. Isolde batted her eyelashes at Leliana, it was Isolde’s version of a shrug.   
“All heroes bear scars, and those who aren’t often do as well,” she said simply, “us women are simply not in the habit of boasting about them.” Fela giggled at that, remembering Teagan and Alistair doing just that.   
“A little showing off doesn’t hurt though, does it,” the bride quipped.   
“Oh no,” Isolde replied, “it makes just the right statement. Fela Cousland, is the Hero of Ferelden, she fought and bled for her country, and now she will be its Queen, there is wisdom in reminding people of that in subtle ways” she added and patted Fela’s shoulder.

“Looks are so much more important than people often realise,” Leliana sighed, “you can say so much about yourself with simply the right outfit and the right bearing.”   
“How delightfully Orlesian of you, my dear,” Isolde answered with a small conspiratory smile. Leliana returned the smile and nodded.

“Well,” Fela said as the seamstress put the last of her pins away, “your final judgement?” The other two women circled her to inspect her with a critical eye.   
“Quite regal,” Leliana said appreciatively, “but why don’t we help you into the shoes you picked? I’d like to see the complete picture.”   
“If you want to see the complete picture, you’ll have to do my hair,” Fela replied. Leliana grinned sheepishly.   
“I know.” Fela chuckled as she moved to sit on a stool in front of a vanity, and let Leliana brush her hair out.   
“I’ll get the shoes,” Isolde chirped and moved towards the wardrobe.

Fela let the other women dote on her, it was somehow important to them. It was a ritual of sorts, Fela suspected, a way for other women to feel part of something wonderful happening. Fela was ok with that, it was nice to share the experience.

Teagan, Magnus, and Fergus seemed to be doing something similar with Alistair. With the wedding getting closer, and most people involved seeming to insist to separate the men from the women, Fela didn’t get to spend much time with him. Save for during the nights. She sighed, there was no malice to it, but she disagreed with the tradition of male-female separation during the weeks leading up to the wedding.

She loved Leliana, and was slowly beginning to appreciate Isolde, but she had to admit she missed the male companionship. Trading barbs with Fergus, flirting with Alistair, drinking with Magnus, the animated conversations with Teagan, even her little talks with Eamon, just a little. Sten had not stayed for the wedding and had left to report to the Bereshaad. Oghren and Zevran remained, but seemed to follow after tradition, so she didn’t see much of either of them.

Wynne occasionally found time to visit Fela, but she was being kept quite busy. With so much of the land contaminated, sick people had started pouring in from everywhere when they learned that Denerim could provide care and shelter. They had prepared for this, but the stream of people with Blight sickness proved more than the preparations could handle. It had gotten to the point that they had started to allow the people who were sure they wanted it, to die quickly at the pointy end of a dagger.

Euthanasia remained a touchy subject under most commoners, seeing as many felt it was no different from suicide, which the Chantry condemned and forbade. But to prolong a man’s suffering when he is begging to die seemed just as wrong, especially since it always led to death. People didn’t recover from Blight sickness, they could only provide easy passage, and consequently the proper burning, or burial if requested, of the bodies. Needless to say that, as a healer, Wynne was kept quite busy indeed.

Coincidentally, Fela had figured that getting the aid of the Circle of Magi, would allow some more mages a bit of time away from the tower. It was the best she could do for now. The Grand Cleric didn’t like it, but Isolde had managed to negotiate and establish a way for the Circle and the Chantry to make it work. Starting out with only a handful, mages who were all to be coupled with a Templar, and the Templars were not only to watch and protect the mages, they were to assist and learn from them as well.

Irving and Gregoir saw to each match, making sure there would only be a minimum of animosity. Senior Templars and mages were to watch over the process and insure there was no misconduct on either party’s side. It benefited both, and would hopefully improve their attitude towards one another when ordered to work together. The mages got to experience a small bit of freedom and purpose, and the Templars learned skills from them they that would serve them well in the field.

The common goal of helping others would hopefully help bridge some of the gap. A clever bit of coaxing from Fela, Leliana, and Magnus. It was controversial, but nobody could deny the practicality of it, the benefits to the people and the country were too great. The Chantry couldn’t deny the people medical attention just because it was offered by mages, not in the aftermath of the Blight.

There had been a lot of resistance of course, most of it argued from an angle that revolved all around the risks. But Templars were already handling much of the law keeping in the refugee camps, they already assisted healers while they watched over them. All they were really asking, was that another handful of healers would be authorized to do what they did best to see if their idea could work. Many had called it naive, others had called it mad, but in the end they relented.

Albeit grudgingly.

Fela was contemplating getting Magnus to go down to some of the camps and talk to the mages and Templars about the arrangement when Leliana finished with her hair. Isolde had already strapped on the shoes, and Fela stood.   
“Yes! That is perfect!” Leliana squealed and moved to get make up ready. Isolde nodded appreciatively.   
“You look like a Queen.”   
“Oh, come sit so I can do your make-up, then we’ll have the full picture,” Leliana said, giddy with excitement.

Fela obliged, for once she didn’t mind spending an afternoon as a doll being dressed up. She absolutely loved the dress, she loved wearing it, she didn’t want to take it off in only a few minutes. She let out a girlish chuckle at her realisation, she was having a great time.   
“Oh, careful now,” Leliana said, “I almost messed up my line there.”   
“Sorry,” Fela mumbled and obediently closed her eyes to let Leliana apply coal. Not too much, just a little to accentuate.   
“What were you giggling about?” the bard asked playfully while she worked on Fela’s other eye.   
“I’m just having a really good time,” she answered.   
“Feeling girly, are we?” Leliana teased.   
“A little,” Fela admitted, “I can be girly.” The bard chuckled and smiled warmly when Fela opened her eyes.   
“Of course.”   
“No,” Fela protested, “really.”   
“I know,” Leliana mused and reached for paint for Fela’s lips.   
“I can tell you’re mocking me you know,” Fela said with a mock glare. Leliana chuckled again.   
“Only a little. There.” She closed the small jar and wiped her fingers on a handkerchief while Fela stood once more and turned to a mirror.

A small smile played around her lips while she inspected herself and turned to look at her back. The silvery streaks along her back somehow stood out, framed in the white lace that adorned the silk. It contrasted well with her skin, virginal white on lightly sun-kissed skin.

Fela kept to herself that she actually had spent a few days sunbathing on a private balcony while reading reports and letters for just this purpose. She had stacked them a little so she would have an excuse to retreat for ‘reading.’ She would have Asher guard the door each time she spent an hour or two, naked in the sun. Alistair discovered her once or twice, but he was allowed in anyway.

He ended up sunbathing a bit as well after finding her laying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows and eating an apple while she read, feet lazily swaying back and forth in the air. And then after finding her sitting in a chair with her legs crossed, leaning back with her elbows on the armrests and holding up a letter from some noble. Moments alone like that had become increasingly rare lately, and it frustrated Fela to no end.

But she figured the look on Alistair’s face would make up for some of it when she walked down the aisle. She looked stunning. Tall, proud, and every inch the next Queen of Ferelden.

Fela walked up and down the room a few times, just to see how it felt to walk in it. And a little because Isolde and Leliana encouraged her but she wasn’t ashamed of that. After all the ass kicking she had done in the last year, she deserved a little pre-wedding fun and giggles. She should act like a bride at least a _little,_ she figured. Just without fits of hysteria, if it could be helped.

Eventually she had to take the dress off to let the seamstress get started on her adjustments, and after that she went to see Magnus. She had let her hair down and washed off the make-up, she wanted it all to be a surprise. Feeling both amused and annoyed with herself for her giddiness, she set off to find Magnus and arranged to visit the refugee camps with him.

Then she went down to the training grounds to spar with her brother, and after washing up, she and Alistair were to attend a dinner with several nobles from Amaranthine as their guests. They wanted Alistair to name someone Arl, and more than one of them wanted the title for themselves. Other than that, some were vying for a position as Arl of Denerim as well.

It was, all in all, a bloody snake pit. But they made it out ok, after spending another few hours of reading and studying Grey Warden lore, they collapsed into bed, Asher with them.

* * *

Alistair had woken up in the dead of night, for no particular reason, as far as he could tell.

There hadn’t been any nightmares, or a nudge from Asher. He had simply woken up. While he had been drowsy at first, his head had cleared and he had let his thoughts wander.

He had been listening to Fela’s breathing for a while, she slept so peacefully now. In the time Alistair had known her, she had always been plagued by nightmares. It was almost strange to watch her sleep without whimpering and twitching for long periods of time. Now she just slept, peacefully. He had slept better than he had in months because of it. And because of the big, soft bed and going to sleep on a full stomach every night, he admitted. But the lack of screaming, and fighting down the panicking woman who now slept so peacefully beside him, made a big difference.

He would gladly hold and comfort her every night for the rest of his life, but he would be lying if he said that the lack of proper sleep hadn’t affected him. He was just glad she was finally getting more than one or two nights of not quite decent sleep before a night terror took hold of her. Urthemiel saw to it that didn’t happen.

He watched her now, thanking the Maker, Urthemiel, and whatever other gods out there for his luck. If someone had described this exact future to him ten years ago, he would have laughed in their faces. But there he was, a veteran of the Blight, King of Ferelden, and soon to be married to the woman he loved.

He caressed her cheek with his fingertips, which made her turn her head into his touch. She scooted closer as he brushed along her upper arm, and her hand found his when he rested it on her belly. It didn’t wake her up, it was just how she responded to him while she slept. Unless she was having a night terror of course, but Fela had assured him Urthemiel would be keeping those away. At least until after he was born, they weren’t sure what would happen after that.

He felt the slow rise and fall of her stomach under his palm, her warmth, even through the sheets. And he hoped, _prayed,_ that they would be able to have a baby.

To the void with all Eamon’s talks of having an heir, it wasn’t about that. It was about Fela and him starting a family, about becoming a father. Being Grey Wardens, the odds were against them. But one thing was certain, Fela responded differently to the Taint than any other Wardens had. And she made a habit of beating poor odds. So maybe, just _maybe,_ they had a chance.

Eventually Asher moved so he could rest his head on Alistair’s upper leg and let out a sigh.   
“Good boy,” Alistair cooed in a whisper.   
“So, if we had a baby, what would that make you?” Alistair mused, “would you be uncle Asher?” Asher wagged his tail at that.   
“Would you be… their big, dog brother? Or would you just be pack mates?” Alistair chuckled.   
“Doesn’t really matter to you, does it? So long as we’re a family, I quite agree.” Asher let out a quiet gruff in affirmation.

It still amazed Alistair that Asher seemed to understand everything he said, he could have whole conversations with his four legged companion, have him execute complex orders, the dog even possessed a wide range of facial expressions that allowed him to communicate back. Somewhat. Alistair wondered how Asher would respond to a kitten.

Fela stirred and moved a little closer, making his hand slide off her belly. She murmured something in her sleep, and settled with her head on Alistair’s shoulder. He planted a kiss on the top of her head, wrapping one arm around her torso and resting his hand in the curve of her waist. She liked to be held, affectionate as she was when awake, she was even more so when she slept. She could almost be called clingy. Or maybe she just developed a habit of seeking out safety and reassurance while she slept after suffering from night terrors for years, and then again after Highever fell.

Alistair didn’t mind, he liked the closeness of her and how she sought him out.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay awake, drinking in the moment of peace, and listening to Fela’s breathing. He carefully committed the moment to memory. He still had a little trouble believing it sometimes.

They made it, they _actually_ made it. All he ever wanted in life was to have a purpose, to contribute and have meaning. He had found that with the Grey Wardens, helping and protecting others by defending them from darkspawn and the Blight. His life, in retrospect, was almost like a fairy tale.

A parentless bastard, sleeping in the kennels of a nobleman’s estate, cast out and taken in by the Chantry. Where he learned to fight and studied for years before becoming a Grey Warden. Then the battle of Ostagar had been lost, and the Order nearly wiped out. And the parentless bastard who was secretly a bastard prince met a beautiful princess. Well, not a princess, but a beautiful noblewoman was close enough. And the pair went on an epic adventure to stop the Blight, during which they fall deeply in love. In the end, the bastard prince is raised to King, and the woman he loves will be his Queen. They defeat the Archdemon and stop the Blight, against all odds. And they both _lived_ to tell the tale.

It was all quite romantic, Alistair thought. Nothing like how he expected his life to go. Nothing like anything he ever considered realistic. But there it was. King Alistair, lying in bed in his royal palace, holding his beautiful, naked, soon-to-be wife after she killed the Archdemon and stopped the Blight with him.

_Luckiest bastard alive,_ Alistair thought to himself, before he finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

“Fergus! Oi! Over here,” Magnus shouted and waved the younger man over to where he was sitting with Oghren and Zevran. Fergus crossed the palace garden to where the odd trio played cards.

“Hello there,” he said and glanced at Zevran who was pouring more drinks and added a fourth cup, “looks like you lot are having a good time.”   
“Wanna join?” Oghren rasped and peered at him from under his eyebrows.   
“Don’t mind if I do,” Fergus replied and sat in one of the two vacant chairs, “what are you playing, Wicked Grace?”

“We are playing, how to trick your soon-to-be brother in law into a stag night,” Zevran said with a wink and laid his cards down on the table.   
“Why not both?” Fergus asked with a shrug.   
“I like your way of thinking,” Zevran said, gathering up the cards and starting to shuffle them.

“Trick my soon-to-be brother in law into a stag night, huh?” Fergus mused and looked around the table, “why, is he refusing to have one?”   
“No,” Zevran said and started dealing cards, “but he doesn’t know he is getting one either.”   
“A surprise then, alright I’m in,” Fergus replied as he looked at his cards.   
“You mean you’re in for a bet or you’re in for a surprise party filled with booze, women, and debauchery?” Oghren challenged.   
“Both,” Fergus replied and pulled his pouch from his pocket, “what’s the buy in?”   
“As much as you are willing to lose,” Zevran answered innocently.   
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Fergus smirked and tossed four coppers onto the table.   
“So long as you’re betting,” Magnus rumbled, and tossed another four coppers on the table.

“Right,” Zevran said and looked around the table, “Teagan should be along shortly, I asked him to meet us here. In the meantime, we can start by coming up with ways to clear his schedule for tomorrow evening.” Fergus laughed.   
“That shouldn’t be too difficult, I’ll talk to my sister. Meanwhile, uncle, I suggest you talk to Eamon. To make sure our King doesn’t have any meetings or tedious dinners with nobles who want to suck up to the new monarch.”   
“Shouldn’t you be sucking up to the new Monarch?” Oghren asked with a raised eyebrow. Zevran burst out laughing.

“What? Why’s that funny? He’s a nobleman ain’t he?” Oghren asked.   
“My sister has already bent the knee, I’m good,” Fergus replied, which made Zevran laugh even harder. Oghren squinted at him for a moment before understanding twinkled in his eyes.   
“Oh, she ‘bent the knee,’ did she?”   
“Oi! That’s my niece you’re talking about,” Magnus glowered at Oghren and Zevran.

“Uncle,” Fergus said solemnly and put a hand on the older man’s shoulder, “my sister has discovered her lady parts, years ago. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, it’s _so_ hard to hide a person’s body parts from themselves. We’ve tried you know, but you can’t stop biology.”   
“Brat,” Magnus chuckled and brushed off Fergus’ hand, “we are supposed to be overprotective and threaten any man who looks at her sideways, you know, it’s our job.”   
“Fela has fired us,” Fergus quipped, “didn’t anyone tell you?” Magnus playfully swatted his nephew on the back of his head.   
“Your turn, smart ass, are you betting or out?”

“What’s this about betting?” came Teagan’s voice from some distance.   
“Teagan! Join the next hand, will you?” Magnus bellowed and pulled out the remaining chair.   
“Gladly,” Teagan replied and poured himself a cup of brandy after he sat down.

“Stag night for Alistair,” Zevran announced, “go.”   
“Dinner at the Golden Mabari,” Teagan replied immediately, “then drinks at Eloise’s.”   
“But where’s the entertainment?” Oghren asked incredulously, “we need wenches, and fistfights!”   
“Calm down,” Fergus replied, “Eloise’s has both.”   
“We’re not staying in just one place right? There’s no adventure in that,” Magnus said, “gotta make it memorable.”   
“How about, hunting?” Fergus suggested.   
“Not a bad idea, but I think hunting loses its appeal after you’ve had to hunt for your own dinner each night for a year,” Zevran answered.   
“How about a race then?” Fergus opted.   
“A race?” Zevran said thoughtfully, “now that might be fun, but where?”   
“No, no, no!” Oghren bellowed, “no racing, I don’t like horses and horses don’t like me back. And didn’t the boy grow up in a stable?”   
“That was a kennel,” Teagan replied ruefully.   
“Oh! Dog races! See which one of us can win a big fat bag of money to go drinking and gamble some more!” Oghren answered.   
“There will definitely be drinking, and gambling,” Teagan assented.

“What about whores? Will there be whores?” Zevran asked.   
“There will be you,” Oghren said, “but good point, how many whores are we talking?”   
“Ooh! I know!” Zevran said and perked up, “there is a particular street here, the official name is Redding Road, but it is commonly known as-”   
“The eighteen inns! _Yes!_ That’s perfect!” Fergus finished.

“Eighteen inns?” Oghren asked.   
“Redding Road counts eighteen inns,” Teagan explained, “it’s everything in one street, music, dancing, gambling, women, bar brawls, nug racing, booze, weirdo’s, freaks, more booze.”   
“Sounds like my kind of party,” Oghren said with a greasy chuckle.   
“It gets better,” Magnus said with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

“We’re going to attempt the Redding Mile,” Zevran explained, “we visit each establishment and have at least one drink, we don’t stop until we’ve visited all eighteen or we’re all passed out drunk!”   
“Then it’s settled,” Fergus said and raised his bet with two silvers, “we walk the Redding Mile, but there is one other thing.”   
“What?” Oghren asked.   
“We’ll need to get him to wear a disguise of some sort, people are going to notice their King crawling down the Redding Mile.”   
“I’ll handle that,” Zevran said, “infiltration is a specialty of mine. Of course, it gets difficult when everyone knows you’re _the_ Zevran Aranai, loyal companion to the Hero and King of Ferelden, and an exceptional lover. But that just makes me a better infiltrator.”

“I know a challenge for you!” Oghren roared, “I dare you to do eighteen hookers!”   
“That, is a very different kind of mile, my friend,” Zevran said, “and not my style. I don’t rut a woman to hurry off to the next, a woman should be worshipped like the goddess she is, be it dockside whore or noblewoman, no?”

Fergus made a face that said ‘he kind of has a point.’

“You sayin you’re not up for the task?” Oghren taunted.   
“My friend, if _you_ can ejaculate eighteen times in one night, I don’t want to know,” Zevran said with a shrug, “I myself am made for quality, not quantity. Of course, quantity comes with quality in these matters,” he added and winked at Fergus who gave him a little shrug back.

“The Redding Mile it is then,” Fergus surmised, “with Alistair in disguise, make it a good one. Teagan and Magnus make sure Alistair’s schedule is clear tomorrow evening, and I’ll make sure my sister knows what we’re doing.”   
“She won’t protest? Most women don’t like their men going on a stag night,” Oghren asked.   
“Nah, I know my sister, she’s fine.”   
“Still, drunk people do stupid things,” Oghren said.   
“Lighten up my friend,” Zevran said, “we will be far too busy doing plenty of other stupid things.”   
“I’m not worried he might do it, I’m worried _she_ worries he might,” Oghren countered.   
“Do you take her for the jealous and suspicious kind?” Zevran asked with a look that said he already knew the answer.   
“Nah,” Oghren said, “never mind, let’s go get drunk.”   
“The party is tomorrow,” Teagan reminded him.   
“And?” Oghren replied and refilled his cup. Teagan shrugged and held out his cup to be refilled as well.

* * *

Fela had just finished her paperwork for the day when Fergus swept into her office.

“Sister dearest!” he sang, “could I have a moment of your time.” Fela smiled.   
“Why of course, brother dearest,” she replied in silky tones, “how may I help?”   
“We’ve got a stag night planned for Alistair tomorrow, I need you to convince him to come to the Golden Mabari in a disguise,” Fergus said promptly. Fela raised her eyebrows.

“Alright, sounds fun. How do you suppose I would do that?” she asked.   
“I don’t know, make him think it’s some kind of role playing. You both pretend to be someone else and he picks you up at a tavern, or whatever,” Fergus said with a shrug.   
“Come on, you gotta have something better than that,” she challenged.   
“How about you tell him you want an evening away from the palace, to not be the King and Hero of Ferelden for a night,” he opted.   
“Better, the disguise would make more sense that way,” she mused, “what kind of disguise?”   
“Zevran is getting something together,” Fergus answered, “and I hear you played a good pregnant woman.” Fela nodded.   
“Leliana can help with that. Send Zevran to me, what time do you want us there?”   
“Around seventh bell,” Fergus said.

“And then you guys are going to jump out and yell ‘surprise!’” Fela asked with a sideways look, “or did you have something more elaborate planned?”   
“All you need to do, is tell the serving girl you made reservations under the name, Reed, we’ll do the rest,” Fergus replied.

_“Reed?_ You can’t take Reed, I use Reed,” Fela protested.   
“Fine, then I’m your fake brother as well as your real brother,” Fergus said with a shrug.   
“Olivia Reed doesn’t have a brother,” Fela answered and crossed her arms.   
“Come on Fae,” Fergus said with a sigh, “it’s a fake name and a fake character, you can change it.” Fela pouted.   
“I had a backstory and everything... did I tell you I used Reed to escape Fort Drakon?”   
“Alright, fine, I’ll use Miller next time,” Fergus assented and threw his hands in the air, “you can have Reed, will you do it?” Fela smiled sweetly.

“Of course dear brother, do bring him back in one piece.”   
“Naturally, aren’t you curious what we’ll be doing?” Fergus replied.   
“Is it within custom to tell the bride where you are going?” Fela answered sarcastically.   
“Who cares,” Fergus said with a shrug, “we’re going to walk the Redding Mile.” She laughed.   
“Oh, he’ll _love_ that, that’s great. Who’s joining you?”   
“Magnus, Oghren, Zevran, and Teagan,” Fergus said, “and me, of course. Bonding with the future brother in law and all that.”   
“How customary of you,” she replied playfully, “and thanks, for doing this for him.”   
“You got it, sis. Besides, I like the guy. I think he is good for you,” Fergus answered and gave her a warm smile.   
“He is,” she replied, “I would never have survived long enough to kill the Archdemon without him.”

Fergus sat down across from Fela.   
“Tell me how you met.”   
“It was at Ostagar,” Fela replied, “after Duncan and I had spoken to Cailan, I wandered around the camp for a bit. Duncan had told me to find a Grey Warden named Alistair, and I was taking my sweet time to do it because I wanted to be alone. And then I found this guy sassing off at a cranky mage who got offended because he delivered some message or something. I was uhm… still kind of in shock. Had been during the entire journey from Highever to Ostagar. And then the mage storms off and the guy says ‘you know, one good thing about the Blight is that it brings people together,’ and I just sort of… snapped out of it, because I didn’t see that comment coming. And he’s completely unphased by my sulking, and starts up a conversation, and somehow I find myself smiling. He walks me back to camp, and asks about where I’m from. And when I don’t want to answer that he realises something very painful has happened, so, not realising I am a highborn lady, he suggests we go and slaughter some darkspawn to work out some of the grief the old fashioned way.” She smiled.

“That’s how I met Alistair,” she concluded.   
“And did you?” Fergus asked.   
“Oh yes,” Fela replied with a nod, “he took the other recruits and me into the Wilds as part of the Joining ritual. Took out a lot of anger on those first five.”

“Weren’t you afraid?” Fergus asked.   
“The worst had already happened to me, I sort of stopped being afraid. Or I stopped giving a shit, I don’t know. What I do know, is that it felt great to murder some good solid evil,” she explained with a shrug, “and Alistair went and told me to share next time.”   
“The first time you see darkspawn, while sneaking around the Wilds with three other men, and you take out a group of five the moment you see them?” Fergus asked with a raised eyebrow.   
“Yes, I stabbed and sliced and got really fucking pissed,” Fela surmised, “I do that a lot these days.”   
“Still, I’m impressed,” Fergus replied.   
“I’m pretty awesome, aren’t I?” she smirked before turning serious, “I was also half out of my mind with grief, and I needed an outlet, darkspawn provided that.”

“Then they were good for something at least,” Fergus added darkly, “I came across a few bands of them while travelling back to Highever and travelling to Denerim, nothing quite compares to those monsters.”   
“You should see a broodmother,” Fela replied absently.

The siblings shared a moment of silence, each thinking dark thoughts of their own. The past year had not been kind to them.

“Wanna go hunt a bunch of them?” Fela asked grimly.   
“Yeah,” Fergus replied, “that sounds good.”   
“Get geared up. Meet me at the stables in an hour,” Fela said and stood, “but don’t tell anyone we’re going darkspawn hunting, Eamon will have a seizure.”   
“Sneaking out, are we?” Fergus asked.   
“Naturally,” Fela said with a shrug, “no matter how many monsters I kill, old men seem to think I need to be kept safe within castle walls.”   
“Little do they know it’s _them_ who need to be kept safe when you’re within the castle walls,” Fergus quipped. Fela sighed and shook her head.   
“You make it sound like I go around bullying everyone, give me a little more credit than that.”

* * *

It felt good to don her armor. She left the silverite chainmail Grey Warden armour and took her iron bark armour instead. It felt like a second skin now, since she her old armour got destroyed by a werewolf, she hadn’t often worn anything else in the months that she spend stopping the Blight.

She strapped on her weapons, and a pouch with some healing poultices and potions, just in case. She also took flint and steel, some dried meat and fruit, and a small pouch of gold. After brief consideration she also took the hook needle and gut she had carried during the Blight plus some bandages, better to be safe.

She left through the balcony doors, climbed up the adjoining roof via the balustrade, and made her way across the clay tiles towards the stables. Eamon would likely have a few catspaws among guards and servants to tell him if they saw either Alistair or Fela leaving while armoured and armed to the teeth, like she was doing now. Better to stay out of sight.

She walked carefully, to avoid stepping on a loose tile and sending an avalanche of them skating down the roof and into one of the inner courtyards where they might bash some innocent servant or guard’s head in. If it were one of the nobles from Amaranthine, now that would be a happy accident. At least it would get her some payback for the headaches they had been giving her, squabbling over land and trade routes. But it wasn’t worth the risk. Clay tiles were treacherous like that, even more so when wet. They got crazy slippery and, when broken, could hold remarkably sharp edges.

Fortunately, the roof was well maintained. She climbed one story down via thick vines and continued her way. She leapt to another roof when she reached the edge, and scurried down a piece of damaged wall. From there it was a few more jumps down and across to the stable roof. Down another wall and along a scaffold to reach the ground and round the corner towards the doors. Fergus was waiting for her when she entered, ready with two horses, tacked and saddled.

“You’re not bringing Asher?” he asked as she mounted.   
“He should be here in a minute, I couldn’t take him across the roofs with me,” Fela answered.   
“How do you propose we find some darkspawn on short notice?”   
“That won’t be a problem,” she replied.   
“Because you are a Grey Warden and they are attracted to you?”   
“Don’t worry about that, I’ll find them long before they find us.”   
“Is that a Grey Warden thing?”   
“It’s a Fela thing,” she quipped.   
“Alright then, you’re the expert,” Fergus shrugged.   
“Unfortunately,” she answered wryly and smiled when she spotted Asher galloping towards them.

They spurned their horses, Asher falling into step with them. Fela wore a hood and had strapped her rapiers to the saddle to carry a bow across her back. Not because she was going to use it, but because it wasn’t as recognisable. There weren’t many people who dual wielded to begin with, let alone two rapiers. Most people went for daggers or a sword and dagger. The lack of anonymity was becoming a problem, it frustrated her to no end.

She couldn’t go down to the Market District without attracting a following anymore, people who wanted to talk to her, shake her hand, or wanted her to kiss their babies. Most inconvenient when you are trying to keep a low profile. The commoners were fine, they mostly left her alone and just watched. Sometimes she got a little wave, of a bow, or a smile, but they kept their distance. Nobles and the like, didn’t.

Most were self-important enough to not even consider the possibility that their attentions were unwanted. Fela just wanted to be able to get herself a _goddamn_ bar of vanilla scented soap without being stopped every twenty feet by people who demanded her attention. She wanted to be able to go to Wade’s without being pestered about her choice of armour and weapons during the battle of Denerim fifty times before even getting there. She wanted to be able to walk around the city freely. She wasn’t.

“So, Olivia,” Fergus began, “where did you grow up?” Fela glared at him from under her hood.   
“Just outside of Redcliffe, my father worked the fields.”   
“A farmer then?” Fergus continued.   
“Wheat and barley mostly,” Fela answered, “dad always used to say that the value of food that keeps long never drops.”   
“And you are an only child?” he continued, enjoying how it annoyed Fela that he wanted to know more about the alias she used.   
“I have a terribly annoying sister,” she bit back.   
“Oh, I know what that’s like,” he replied smugly.   
“I really don’t think you do,” she answered darkly, “she could probably learn a thing or two from mine.”   
“What’s her name?”   
“Emily.”   
“Lovely name,” Fergus answered, “I would love to meet her.”   
“Sure you do, take a left here,” Fela sneered. Fergus chuckled and decided to drop it.   
“Alright, alright.”

They soon made it out of the city, and Fela led them down the southern road a bit before stopping.

“What are you doing?” Fergus asked when she made no move to speak or continue.   
“I’m looking,” she stated simply.   
“For darkspawn?”   
“Yes.”

He waited for a few moments to let her do whatever she was doing. His sister was a little strange at times, he had gotten used to it years ago. He teased her about it from time to time, but never in a way to insult or discredit her. Weird she may be, but she was seldom wrong. If she said she was looking for darkspawn while staring at a rock, then that was what she was doing. Even though you would think she’d at least be looking around.

“A group of six, south east of here. Genlocks and hurlocks, no emissaries,” she stated.   
“Emissaries?” Fergus asked as he followed Fela, who had steered her horse off the road and into the trees.   
“The ones that use magic,” Fela clarified, “the small ones are genlocks, the bigger ones hurlocks, and the shadowy ones are shrieks.”   
“And the big ones are ogres,” Fergus said with a nod, “I didn’t realise there were names for the rest too. Beside the shrieks, I can see where that name comes from.”   
“I like to slash their throats,” Fela said with a wolfish grin. Fergus gave her an appreciative nod.   
“Very fitting.”

“So, are you going to tell me how you know what, how many, and where they are?” Fergus asked when nothing more was forthcoming.   
“Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn, and darkspawn can sense them, you already know that,” she began, “but I’ll admit there is more to it. It’s due to the Taint that we take within ourselves that we are able to sense them. More experienced Wardens eventually learn to locate and pinpoint darkspawn pretty accurately increasingly further away. A few develop this skill to the point that they can sense how many and what kind they are.”   
“Do Grey Wardens typically learn this within a year?” he asked.   
“No,” she said honestly, “and I need you to keep that to yourself.”   
“Of course,” Fergus said, “but why are you doing what only a few should be able to?”   
“I don’t know,” Fela said honestly, “neither does Alistair. We asked Avernus, the crazy mage at Soldier’s Peak I told you about, but he couldn’t tell us anything either. We didn’t share that knowledge with anyone else. I respond differently to the Taint than others, that’s all we know.”   
“Do you at least know if it’s a good or bad thing?” Fergus continued.   
“We have no reason to believe it’s bad so far, the Taint has not progressed at an accelerated pace or anything. For some reason my body seems to work well with it, instead of reject it,” she answered, “we checked.”

“What do you mean by that?” Fergus asked a little apprehensively.   
“Don’t freak out,” Fela warned, “let me explain a few things first.”   
“Alright,” Fergus nodded.   
“The Taint is in our blood, as you know. With the naked eye, the blood of a Grey Warden doesn’t look any different than that from a non-Warden. But, Avernus had ground a set of lenses that allows him to see tiny things that the naked eye can’t, for example, blood cells. Avernus has been studying the Taint, looking for ways to enhance it or look for more power within or some other crazy-mage-with-a-god-complex shit. One of the things he did during his research, was watch and monitor the progression of the Taint in Grey Warden’s blood. The longer they were Tainted, the more damage the blood cells showed.”   
“And yours?” Fergus asked, already having deduced that Fela had Avernus check her blood in a similar manner.   
“Looks different altogether,” she sighed, “and it doesn’t look like anything he has ever seen before. Even the cells themselves seem a bit different. Thinner, I believe he said. But, from what we saw, he concluded that the Taint isn’t destroying me from the inside out like it does with other Wardens. My body seems to have adopted it, made it its own instead of fighting it. It reached a… a kind of homeostasis, I guess…”

Fergus took that all in for a moment, listing the implications.   
“You said the cells themselves look different,” he began slowly, “did you mean it looks different from other… humans? Tainted or otherwise.” Fela nodded.   
“Scares the shit out of me.”   
“I can imagine…” Fergus answered quietly.

“So… if we put my blood under ground lenses…” he began again, “just to check, you know… Maybe there are more people like you? I’m your brother, I am literally of your blood. Just so… just so you don’t feel like some kind of freak, I know you’ve always felt that way before… I don’t want you to take that blood thing as proof or anything…” Fela smiled a little at her brother’s awkward attempt to comfort her a little.   
“Thanks, Fergus, but you don’t have to do that.” He shook his head.   
“No, I really think I do. Maybe it could help you understand how you survived killing the Archdemon and get the Grey Wardens off your back.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Fela said and stopped to dismount, “we should go on foot from here, no need jeopardising the horses. Asher, make sure they stay here until we return. If you are attacked, let them run back to the city and come find me.” Asher let out an affirmative gruff, Fergus dismounted as well and followed Fela deeper into the trees.

They walked in silence, no sense in keeping a conversation going unless you want them to know you’re coming early on. They would sense Fela eventually, but without the Archdemon directing them, they probably wouldn’t do anything about it unless they saw her. And they wouldn’t see her until she wanted them to.

Fela and Fergus fell upon the darkspawn with a relish, Fela with her rapiers, Fergus with a longsword and dagger. Fela leapt into a high kick, flooring the first hurlock and stabbing it in the chest while using the other to lash out at a genlock coming from the side. A reverse kick and it went stumbling backwards while clutching its abdomen. Fergus beheaded it with a sweep of his longsword and hit a hurlock in the face with the hilt in the same motion.

As predicted, the darkspawn were much more interested in Fela than Fergus. They had fought together countless times in training, but Fergus had always been the one to face the enemy head on while Fela struck from blind spots and shadows. Fergus was impressed with Fela’s brutal efficiency, she struck to kill and incapacitate as she always had. But she seemed much faster, her jumps were higher, her kicks send her targets flying more often than it send them stumbling, her cuts went deeper, and her thrusts had more power behind them. She had developed incredibly since the last time he sparred with her, Fergus observed.

She knocked a hurlock’s greatsword aside with ease, lashing it across its chest so viciously it send the larger creature spinning and stumbling. Without looking, she caught a dagger from an incoming genlock on one rapier and used the other to slash the floored hurlock’s throat before felling the attacking genlock with a backhanded swipe. She ran though a fifth, twisting both of her blades before pulling them back out. And turned to see Fergus kick the last one off his longsword.

“ _Goddamn,_ little sister!” he exclaimed with a wild spark in his eyes, “we should have gone after a bigger group.”   
“Want to go find some more?” she asked with a manic grin.   
“Hell yes,” Fergus replied, “the tally is four for you and two for me.” Fela chuckled.   
“Let’s see if we can get you into the double digits before the end of the day.”   
“If you stop hogging all the targets,” Fergus replied, “try to share.”   
“It’s not my fault they seek me out,” she shrugged, “and I prefer to control their numbers.”   
“If that wasn’t a solid tactic when there’s only the two of us, I would be offended,” he answered playfully and started going in the direction of their horses. She followed at a trot.

“Hang on a moment, do you have any cuts or open wounds?”   
“No,” Fergus replied over his shoulder, “don’t worry Fae, I know how to avoid getting Blight sickness by now.” She nodded.   
“Good, I brought medical supplies just in case, let me know when you need anything.”   
“Way ahead of you,” he replied and patted his own pouch, “I have everything I need and some extra.”

They scoured the countryside until the sun was beginning to set. Fergus did get into the double digits, after getting used to his new role when fighting alongside his sister, he changed tactics. Darkspawn would attack him if they perceived him as a threat but favoured Fela as their target. Instead of trying to draw their attention to him, like he would have done in the past, he took advantage of their disinterest in him. Striking from behind and finishing off any darkspawn Fela sent stumbling his way.

They developed a new routine easily, Fergus was the only person she had trained and sparred with more than Alistair. They were already finely tuned in to one another. All it took, was for Fergus and Fela to get reacquainted a little after a year of separation. Hunting and slaughtering darkspawn was a grisly task, but the Couslands revelled in it, re-establishing their bond as siblings with violence and sanguinity.

They had both lost too much, had been focussed on survival for too long. The anger and grief that had not yet been properly addressed now fed the inferno of rage that spurned them on to seek out more monsters to kill. More targets to take it out on, more limbs to sever and guts to cut. The Couslands went through the patch of forest like homicidal maniacs, clearing it out completely before stopping at a stream to drink and wash up a bit.

“We need to do this more often,” Fergus said as he pulled off his boots to dip his feet into the water.   
“We really should,” Fela quipped, “we are terribly effective.”   
“Were we always this… blood thirsty?” he asked absently as he started to clean the blood off his armor. Fela shook her head.   
“No… No, I don’t think we were.”   
“We’ve changed then, haven’t we,” he replied.

“In a way, you don’t spend a year at war or surviving in the Wilds during a Blight without changing,” Fela answered, “our world changed, and we changed with it.”   
“You almost make it sound healthy,” he chuckled.   
“Isn’t it though? All living things possess a compelling drive to survive, if your world is suddenly changed, tainted by the Blight, you either change with it, or you die,” she said simply, “we just happen to be better equipped and prepared to fight back than most.”   
“You mean we got this blood thirsty because we could?” he said with a frown.   
“No, I mean it’s a natural reaction. We didn’t need to be this violent before, we weren’t at risk at much, weren’t forced to kill in order to defend ourselves on a daily basis. It’s a survival strategy, nothing more. And if you enjoy it a bit, that’s not so strange. Most things that enhance your chances of survival are enjoyable, eating, sleeping, safety… It’s just how we adapt, if we hated those things we wouldn’t keep doing them,” Fela explained.

Fergus sighed.   
“That actually makes a lot of sense.”   
“It’s what I’ve been telling myself,” Fela said quietly, “I won’t deny that it scares me a little that I enjoy killing. Albeit darkspawn, demons, dragonlings, or whatever manner of monster you can think of.”   
“That kind of makes sense too,” Fergus replied, “given that we were taught killing is a heinous act, no matter how righteous. It’s not something we’re _supposed_ to enjoy, or so many would have you believe.”

“I think we crossed some kind of border. We both believed it was wrong to take pleasure in the act of killing, up until the point we experienced how _right_ it feels to kill a man that has harmed your family, or to rid the world of a creature that can only bring pain and suffering,” Fela mused, “like some kind of false sense of security has been taken away. A veil that has been lifted. I simply can’t bring myself to see it the way I used to. Not after what Howe, Loghain, and the Blight have shown me. Some people, or creatures, simply _need_ to die. We can’t afford to let them loose if we want to be able to carry on with our lives.”   
“Them or us,” Fergus summarised, “it was always so, we just didn’t see it.” 

“Sometimes, innocent people get mixed up in it,” Fela continued absently as she drew patterns in the sand with a stick, “it happened at Lothering, Cailan had just been killed, the horde was advancing, and Loghain had taken every noble and each of his soldiers with him. He left the south to fend for itself, causing a huge wave of refugees. Loghain had put a bounty on our head as soon as he realised our bodies weren’t found. People were desperate, merchants charged exorbitant prices for something as simple as a bag of salt. Food was already in short supply by then, merchants don’t usually go down into a warzone when there is money to be made in safer places. So, when they were promised a hefty pouch of gold for bringing Loghain the heads of the remaining two Grey Wardens, they saw a chance.” Her eyes were a bit distant now, gazing past Fergus into the distance.

“We had no choice, they wouldn’t let us go and they attacked us. They were just… people, who got caught in the mess Loghain made. They were doing what they could to survive, even if it meant attacking two Grey Wardens. And so, we did what we needed to survive and cut them down.” She tossed her stick into the water, “then again at Kinloch Hold, the Tower of Magi. Templars who had gotten possessed or tricked by demons. Mages who had been tortured into submitting themselves to becoming abominations. And again at Haven, they may have been murderous dragon cultists but most of them simply didn’t know any different.”

Fela remained quiet for a few moments, finding a new stick to prod at the earth.   
“I had a choice, and I made it,” she finally said, “I took no pleasure in those deaths, but they are still on my hands.” Fergus opened his mouth to speak but Fela beat him to it.   
“Don’t even think about giving me some bullshit on freeing those mages and Templars, that those who tried to kill me had it coming.”   
“I wasn’t,” Fergus replied, “I was going to say, 'life is a fickle bitch and that shit is fucked up.'” Fela chuckled a bit at that.   
“Let’s go, Eamon and Alistair are probably out of their mind with worry by now.” Fergus nodded and pulled his boots on before standing up.   
“Are we going to sneak in and pretend we were there all day, or are we just going through the front gates?” he asked.

“Eh, whichever is quicker, I’m starving.”


	64. When Fela Comes Home...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is porn, so get comfortable.

Alistair slammed the door closed behind him and locked it.

“What were you thinking!?” he demanded, “you should have at least told _me_ where you were going! What if something happened and nobody knew where to find you?” Fela quirked an eyebrow.  
“You sound suspiciously like my mother,” she sneered challengingly. From Eamon and Wynne, she had expected a lecture, but Alistair should know to trust her by now.  
“And _you_ sound suspiciously like an insolent child!” Alistair snapped.  
“An insolent child that has been fighting darkspawn for over a year while they were actually something resembling organised,” Fela retorted, “you know damn well I’m fine out there without an entourage of guards.”  
“Yes, I do, but that doesn’t mean you should disappear for an entire day and then show up covered in blood!” he shouted.

“Maker’s _balls,_ Alistair! What is your _problem_ all of a sudden!?” Fela shouted exasperatedly. Alistair crossed the room to grasp her firmly by the shoulders.   
“My problem is that you went hunting for darkspawn alone with your brother, and told no one what you were doing!” he shouted. Fela slapped his hands off her shoulders so he grabbed her wrists instead.   
“What part of that do you _not_ understand?” he hissed. Fela twisted her wrists free from his grasp and thrust them into his chest to push him back.   
“The part where you are _this_ angry about it! You are over-reacting!”

_“Over-reacting!?_ Fela, Nathaniel Howe has been sighted near the palace today and you were nowhere to be found!”

Realisation dawned upon her, he had been worried Howe had gotten to her.

“Well fuck, Alistair, you could have started with that!” she bit back and started to unbuckle her armor.   
“That doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t even tell _me_ what you were doing!” he continued, “we couldn’t find you, the guards had seen you enter our chambers but you never came out. If I had known you were hunting darkspawn I at least would have known where to look!”   
“How should I have known Howe decided to come to Denerim!? We don’t even know what he wants!” Fela retorted, throwing her shoulder guards unceremoniously to the ground.   
“Given what you did to his father, he is most likely here for _you!_ ” Alistair shouted, she stopped unbuckling her armor and her head snapped up.

“Given what _his_ father did to _my_ family, I have been _kind!_ ” Fela growled, her eyes had turned that dangerous shade of black that was always accompanied by shadows seeming to cling to her features, “I didn’t murder _children_ in their beds! I didn’t burn down everything he owned! I didn’t go after every single soul in the castle like that _monster!_ ” Her voice had become raw with pent up rage.   
“And now Nate has shown up, and suddenly you feel the need to throw the way I gutted his father in my face!? Let him come after me, I know damn well he has every right! And I _don’t need you,_ to point it out!”

Her outburst subdued Alistair somewhat, he had struck a nerve without meaning to. Somehow they had strayed from Fela’s hunting trip to the way she had killed Rendon Howe.

He wasn’t even really angry that she had done it, if she had told him he would have told her to have fun and come back in one piece. But not knowing where she was with Nathaniel Howe in the city had unnerved him. If she got hurt and he hadn’t been there to protect her… Fela wasn’t indestructible. Something close to it, but not completely, nobody was. An arrow to the throat would kill her just like anyone else.

Alistair remained quiet while she stripped her armor and the clothes underneath, watching her move. There was no sign of any injury, any blood that stained her skin had simply seeped through her armor and the clothes she wore under it. She glared at him.

_“What!?”_

He replied by shoving her into the wall behind her and covering her mouth with his. Fela protested, pushing back against his chest with a growl. She bit his lip when he didn’t relent, which resulted in one hand around both her wrists and the other around her throat before he pulled back to glower at her.   
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.   
“No,” was her husky reply, which got cut off by another kiss.

Alistair could feel Fela’s pulse quicken in her neck as she kissed him back hard. She was still mad at him, but that was fine because he was mad at her too. He moved his hand from her throat to her hair, untying the cord that held it together in a rolled up bun so he could gather up her hair in his hand. He took a firm hold, putting him in control of how she moved her head. He pulled it back so he could get at her neck, nipping at the soft flesh as he pressed her firmer into the wall. She let out a quiet moan but continued struggling against the grip he had on her wrists. When she pulled one hand free, he let go of her hair to grab both her wrists and pin them above her head. He glared at her.

“Stop struggling,” he growled before claiming her lips in another demanding kiss. She moaned at the forcefulness of it, feeling heat pooling between her thighs. Alistair moved his hands to free one so he could brush his fingers down her side gently. It made goose bumps rise on her skin, she shivered when he traced the outline of her nipple under her breastband with his thumb.

He spun her around suddenly, keeping her pinned to the wall with his body while he took off her breastband and slipping off her panties to let them drop around her ankles. She pushed back when he pulled back slightly to cup both of her breasts in his hands. He took a step back to steady himself and growled in her ear, dragging her back with him.

“What, exactly, is it that you are trying to do?” he asked in hard tones as he tightened his hold on her to keep her from squirming. Fela replied with a snarl, setting one foot against the wall opposite of her, and pushing back viciously to make Alistair stumble but he didn’t release her. He simply backed up a bit further so she wouldn’t be able to find anymore purchase with her feet.

“I am going to ask you once more,” he whispered in her ear while he used one hand to grasp her jaw and tilt her head back, “do you want me to stop?”

Fela had her eyes closed, panting with anger as much as excitement. _Did_ she want him to stop? The answer came easy.

“No,” she whispered hoarsely.   
“Last chance,” he continued, sending a shiver down her spine, “either tell me to stop now, or be a good little girl and take your punishment.”

It send such a jolt of excitement through her that she moaned softly. Alistair let his hand slip between her legs, finding her hot and wet already. He chuckled darkly, tracing his fingers along her sex before seeking out her clit.   
“It’s like _that_ , is it?” he asked when she let out another moan, then he released her to spin her quickly around.   
“Get on your knees,” he ordered.

He slapped he across the cheek when she glared at him without moving and grabbed her by her hair to force her down. She complied this time, but kept her black gaze on him. Alistair used his other hand to unfasten his trousers and pull himself free.   
“Open your mouth.” He pulled her head back when she didn’t obey and took hold of her jaw again.   
“ _O_ _pen_. Your _mouth_.” He squeezed her jaw a little tighter, forcing her to open her mouth and brushing her lips with the tip of his cock.

When she finally complied, she sucked on him eagerly, coating him in saliva so she could take in his full length. With one hand tangled in her hair, and the other having a firm hold on her jaw, Alistair took control of their rhythm. Moving his hips while he kept Fela’s head still. She struggled to keep from gagging, focussing on breathing through her nose and relaxing her throat.

He kept going while she struggled for breath, tears had sprang from her eyes, now trickling slowly down her cheeks. Alistair took a perverse kind of pleasure in seeing her like that, even more so because the defiant spark never left her eyes. He’d known she liked it rough, but he had never actually explored the boundaries of it. He let off when she tapped his leg, allowing her a few deep, desperate, breaths before continuing. How long before she would tap his leg this time?

He kept a close eye on her, making sure he didn’t go too far. But at the same time, watching her have no choice but to take it, a situation this particular woman rarely found herself in, triggered something in him. A possessiveness and a will to dominate, and Fela kept spurning him on. She licked her lips and smirked when he pulled back. And he wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off her face.

He pulled her up and towards the sofa where he laid her across his lap and smacked her ass hard, making her yelp. He smacked her again before brushing the glowing red skin with his fingertips and tracing them down to her opening. She quivered when he slid his fingers along her slit, moving her hips back to seek more contact. Alistair pulled his hand back and gave her another slap.

“Don’t move.” Already both of her cheeks had turned red, Alistair could feel the heat as he lightly caressed the tender flesh. He could feel her tense and strain to stay still, letting out a quiet sigh as he slipped his fingers between her folds.

“If you’re good,” Alistair spoke, “I will let you come tonight. If you’re not…” he paused, “we’ll see how long you last.” Fela suppressed another shiver going down her spine at his words. She took the next slap quietly, biting her lip to stifle a moan.   
“No, none of that, I want to hear each and every sound you make,” he said as he moved one hand to wrap it around her throat and tilt her head back and bring his mouth to her ear.   
“But not too loud, we wouldn’t want the servants to know their Hero is a twisted little slut.”

He smacked her again, and she yelped before glaring at him over her shoulder.   
“Eyes front,” he snapped and struck her again, and again, and again until she was whimpering and barely managing to hold still. He caressed the glowing skin again, a sharp contrast to the cream coloured skin of her thighs. Each cry and every moan reverberated in her throat, tightly wrapped in his hand. He could feel her pulse hammering against his palm while she obediently remained still and voiced the sensations in her body.

Moisture had spread between her thighs, she felt it with each gust of wind that accompanied each slap, cooling her skin. Fela cried out and sobbed a little at the last smack, but dutifully kept still in Alistair’s lap. A moan escaped her when he slid his fingers along her slit again to start drawing circles around her clit. She sighed at the gentleness of his touch, desperate to lean into it after the relentless spanking she had just received, but resisted the urge. He rubbed her clit until her thighs quivered before slipping two fingers inside her.

Fela’s cries and yelps turned to deep moans while Alistair moved his fingers inside her. He moved his mouth to her ear again.   
“You didn’t think you had earned it yet, did you?” Fela gasped, feeling anticipation build in her abdomen. He pulled his fingers back and smacked her ass one more time, leaving a wet streak on her skin.   
“Sit on you knees,” Alistair said and pushed her off his lap. He stood to walk into the bedroom, and soon returned with a bottle of oil. Fela’s eyes widened.   
“Remember,” Alistair said as he sat back down and pulled her back into his lap, “good girls get to come.”

She settled across his legs hesitantly, unsure of what was to come next, how far Alistair would take it. It thrilled her, turning her apprehension into desire. Maybe he _would_ invade her in that way, she felt herself throb at the thought.

Alistair let a few drops of oil fall on Fela’s bare ass, rubbing and massaging the abused flesh and slowly parting her cheeks and massaging between them as well to help her relax. His fingertips slowly rubbing circles on her tail end felt strange, but it send jolts of excitement and pleasure through her body. She moved back a little, invitingly. This time Alistair didn’t smack her for it, but slipped his middle finger into the tight ring of muscle. Fela gasped at it, tilting her hips to give Alistair more direct access.

“What a depraved little thing you are,” Alistair whispered as he let her get used to the feeling of his finger up her ass.   
“You are enjoying this, aren’t you?” Fela nodded, earning a light slap on her ass from Alistair’s free hand.   
“Tell me.”   
“Y- yes,” she stammered.   
“All of it,” he replied sternly and started to gently move his finger inside her ass. Fela swallowed hard and bit her lip.   
“I- I like it.” Another slap.   
“You like what?” he pressed his finger in deeper this time, past the second knuckle. She moaned wantonly.   
“I like your finger inside my ass.”   
“Good girl,” he answered, moving it in and out slowly, “do you think you can take another finger?” Another nod, and another slap.   
_“Yes!_ Yes I want a second finger up my ass, Alistair,” she whimpered while he rubbed her clit with his thumb while fingering her ass. She was grinding herself against his hand now, and whimpered when Alistair pulled back to get more oil for his fingers.

“Ready?” he asked, putting the tips of his middle and index finger against her hole. She moved back against his fingers.   
“Yes.”

She let out another moan when Alistair let her impale herself on his fingers, she kept pushing back until she felt his knuckles against her flesh. Alistair watched his fingers stretch her, feeling her twitch and clench while she held still. She gave herself over to it so willingly, was she really that depraved or was she eager to please him? Given her resistance earlier, he suspected a bit of both. He felt her relax slowly, and he carefully moved his fingers again, measuring her responses. He didn’t want _this_ to hurt her. So he worked her slowly, giving her time to get used to the new feeling and to start finding pleasure in it.

“Lie back on the sofa,” he instructed, kneeling in front of her and wrapping his arms around her thighs to pull her towards him a bit so her ass rested just over the edge. He moved her legs so she could rest them on his shoulders. Then he resumed the process of preparing her while using his tongue on her clit. She arched her back and let out a loud moan, pressing herself down on his fingers. He kept her like that for a moment, and then spread his fingers inside her to stretch her further.

“Can you take a third?” he asked, briefly interrupting his ministrations to her clit.   
“Yes,” Fela sighed, “and then your cock.” Alistair chuckled.   
“Who said you had earned that?” He felt his erection twitch at the flash of disappointment on her face, she wanted it, and she wanted it bad.   
“Please- ooh,” she pleaded as he coated another finger in oil and slipped three of them inside. He assaulted her clit with his tongue, making her writhe and squirm.   
“Well, since you’ve been so good already,” he said with a devilish smile, “I’ll make you a deal.”   
“Name it,” she panted.   
“You are not allowed to come while I stretch you,” he replied, “only when my cock is buried in your ass are you allowed to come, can you do that?” he flicked his tongue against her clit as a challenge.   
“And if I don’t make it?” she asked curiously.   
“Then I’ll just fuck you down your throat,” he replied, “and you will swallow every drop.”   
“Deal,” she replied with a gasp when Alistair continued his ministrations, bracing herself for what she knew would be a challenge.

As she expected, Alistair took their bet quite seriously. He sucked and nibbled while slowly stretching her. Fela soon felt herself get lost in the sensations Alistair was eliciting from her body. She slowed her breathing in order to relax, and draw out the build up towards her climax. Alistair was relentless, he sucked on her nub while swirling his tongue around it, spreading his fingers slowly inside her ass.

She rocked back and forth to match his pace as he started moving them inside her. He chuckled at her willingness, sending a vibration through her centre, making her moan louder. But she held herself together, staving off her climax as she grit her teeth, one hand making a fist in her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes half lidded with her eyelashes fluttering.

Alistair smiled, she was trying so hard. He finally relented, kissing a trail up her belly, between her breasts, and along her throat. She moaned and sucked on his lower lip when he reached her mouth, tasting herself. He had pulled his fingers back to support her legs with his arms, supporting himself on his forearms. Fela wrapped her arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss while Alistair fumbled around to find the bottle of oil.

He pulled back a bit when he found the bottle to rub some of it on his throbbing erection. Fela watched in anticipation, biting her lip while Alistair pressed the tip of his dick against her asshole. He watched her face as he slowly pushed in, she drew in a sharp breath through her teeth, so he stopped. Waiting until he felt her relax before pushing past the tight ring of muscle.

Fela groaned at the feeling, it was tight but oh, _so good._ She moaned and whimpered while he slowly filled her, pushing in slowly and stretching her to accommodate him. It took everything Alistair had to keep still instead of just fucking her. She was _so_ _g_ _oddamn_ _tight_ around his cock, he could feel her tense and clench on him while she got used to the size of him. With his fingers, he could only go so deep. He added a bit more oil, and pushed in further bit by bit until he was completely seated inside her. He kissed her then, long and slow and luxurious until she was breathless. Only then did he start moving, slowly, making sure it didn’t hurt her.

Fela moaned and sighed as he moved inside her, clinging onto him like he was her only lifeline. She had never done this with anyone before, it was a first for her as much as it was for Alistair. But he was also the first she was ever willing to do it with. And that marvellous self-restraint he possessed made her trust him enough, he never hurt her in a way she didn’t want him to. She considered asking him to tie her to the bed and was wondering if there was any rope when Alistair moved his thumb over her swollen clit.

The thought was discarded immediately when a wave of pleasure echoed through her body from her centre to her fingers, toes, and the top of her head.

She moaned into his mouth and dug her fingernails into Alistair’s shoulders. She had never drawn blood before, but to Alistair it felt like she was drawing blood now. He growled, finding it far more pleasant than he expected. She was marking him, the sharp sting of ten well-manicured nails send a violent jolt down his spine and into his groin.

His thrusts were deeper now, pushing Fela up and against the back of the sofa and making her breasts move in the most wonderful way. He kissed her again as he delved into her, slowly building up speed and force. Fela moaned and whimpered wantonly, leaning her head back and giving him access to her throat. Her skin tasted of salt and, vaguely of metal. Blood most likely, and she never tasted better.

This was _his_ woman, the one he fell in love with while she was dismembering darkspawn. The crazy bitch that felled the Archdemon, with a manically homicidal grin plastered to her face while she did it. The mastermind behind their operation, who wrapped the nobility around her finger and kicked a false King off his throne. And he had reduced her to incoherent whimpering by fucking her up her ass. That formidable woman, the Hero of Ferelden, submitted herself to him. Taking it willingly, begging for more. Completely and utterly _his._

Alistair was struggling to keep from ramming himself into her with abandon, he closed his eyes and tightly squeezed the base of his cock with his free hand, determined to make this wonderful feeling last longer. Fela wriggled her hips to urge him on, so Alistair pressed on her clit until she cried out and arched her back. He held her still long enough to regain control over himself before continuing. He slowly increased the force of his thrusts, carefully measuring her response while she took all of him.

“How does it feel?” he whispered in her ear.   
“It- it feels good,” she panted in between thrusts.   
“Do you like having my dick up your ass?” he demanded.   
_“Yes!”_ she moaned, “yes! Oh, yes, I like your cock inside my ass, oh, please keep going, Alistair, don’t stop.” Alistair switched to long determined strokes, rubbing Fela’s clit with some of the oil. He could feel her start to quiver in a way that told him she was close.   
“Do you want me to come inside you?” he asked, nibbling on her ear.   
“Yes, whatever you want, oh, just- oh, yes! Right there, yes, _yes! Ah!-”_ her words were cut off when the orgasm took her, and Alistair let himself go. He plunged into her erratically, feeling her muscles contort around him, and spilled deep inside her.

Alistair slumped forward with his head on Fela’s chest, she cradled him in her arms panting and twitching with aftershocks. Alistair stayed where he was for a while before pulling out. He untangled himself from Fela and moved to ask a servant for a bath to be drawn. Leaving her sprawled out on the sofa.

Her eyes were closed, and she was probably drifting off to sleep already.

Alistair was smiling while he dressed and left the room, which surprised the guards that had seen him drag his betrothed into their chambers and slamming the door before they started yelling. And Alistair couldn’t care less if they figured it out. Who could blame him for making love to his future wife? Or at least, that’s what they would be calling it. Fela would probably laugh at the term and point out that what they just did was as much about love as it was about the weather.

But such details didn’t need to be shared.


	65. 'It's been a while, hasn't it?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel Howe is brought in, Fela goes down to speak to him.

They had intended to spend the rest of the evening in bed after taking a long hot soak.

Fela was sore, and tired. And less than thrilled when they were informed that Nathaniel Howe had been apprehended after Leliana caught him sneaking into the palace. At first she intended to wait until morning to go see him, but the thought kept bugging her until she decided go see him anyway.

Alistair didn’t like it, and insisted on going with her. Asher didn’t like it either, but she was fine with him following her, because Asher wouldn’t nag her about keeping a safe distance from the bars. Fela walked ahead of Alistair with Asher by her side. The dungeons under the royal palace were about as far from the royal wing as they could be. Fela approved of that, but right now it annoyed her that it was a ten minute walk to a dungeon she didn’t even really want to go to. But there was a guy in it that was assumed to be there to kill her. And she’d rather not let the threat sit there to come up with a new plan.

A couple of guards showed them to the cell they had put Nate in. They had taken his weapons, his armor, his shoes, and anything else he had on him. Fela looked through his possessions. It wasn’t much, he had a bow and a quiver of arrows of course. A set of lockpicks, a healing potion, two daggers, an extra bowstring, and a key. Presumably to the place he had hidden the rest of his things, this couldn’t be all of it. Fela looked up at one of the guards.

“Has he spoken to anyone yet?”  
“No, your Ladyship, he has been staring at the back wall and ignoring all of our questions,” the man replied. Fela nodded.  
“Thank you, I’ll go talk to him. See if I can get a rise out of him.”  
“Of course, my Lady, we will be right outside,” the guard replied and motioned for his colleague to follow him so they could take up positions in the hallway leading to the cells.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Alistair asked for the two-hundredth time.  
“I would like to be certain he was here to kill me before we condemn him as a criminal, we can’t act on assumptions,” Fela replied, also for the two-hundredth time.  
“Someone else could talk to him,” Alistair pressed, “you don’t have to be the one to do that.”  
“If I want to figure out if he wants to kill me or not, I really do,” Fela sighed, “now please, just let me do what I do and don’t interfere.” Alistair frowned but eventually gave her a nod and kissed her cheek.  
“Alright, but if he attacks you somehow I’m not standing by.”  
“Deal,” Fela replied and squeezed his hand, resting on her hip.

The figure in the back of the cell was sitting hunched over with his back turned towards the bars. He didn’t turn around when he heard two people enter. One light on their feet, and the other less so. He stared at the wall in front of him, unmoving, until she spoke.

“Nathaniel?” Fela asked. Nate stood and slowly turned around.  
“There you are,” he sneered, “the ‘Hero’ of Ferelden,” he spat.  
“I see you like that title as much as I do,” she replied dryly.  
“I had to see it to believe it,” Nate said scathingly, “skinny little Fela Cousland, the weird kid nobody liked, the stupid little girl that thought she could play with the boys. But there you are, _still_ trying to play with the boys.”

Fela looked Nate straight in the eyes as he spoke, her face in an impassive mask, but her black eyes burned like coals. It made Nate feel uneasy, just like she did when they were kids. He almost felt ten years old again under her gaze. Nate shook the feeling off.

“You haven’t changed much,” he finally said, “I never took you for a murdering psychopath though, did that come later? Or were you always this disturbed?” He looked to the man standing just behind her, he must be the new King then, given how his words made the man bristle like an angry bear.

“Are you done?” Fela asked flatly, still staring him down like she was sizing him up.

It angered him that she could make him feel vulnerable, that she made him feel the need to hide, by just looking at him. She hadn’t even made a single threat or accusation, she was just waiting for him to finish insulting her and get on with why he was in a cell in her castle. In a wave of defiance, he stepped forward, he would not be intimidated by that _harpy_. So instead of backing down, he did the opposite.

“Well we must get reacquainted,” he sneered, “we haven’t seen each other in… five, six years?”  
“Give or take,” she replied, never averting her gaze from his eyes.  
“So tell me,” he replied glibly, “how have the years treated you?” Fela ignored the question.  
“What do you want Nate?” she asked.  
“What do I want? Why, I want to get reacquainted of course, I just told you,” he replied mockingly.  
“And this is the way you do that?” Fela replied rhetorically, “there are more efficient ways.”  
“Oh, but this is telling me exactly what I need to know,” Nate sneered. Fela arched an eyebrow.  
“Why, is it telling you your father was a traitor who murdered children in their sleep? Remarkable.”

She could see Nate pale a little at her words, and then he flushed red with anger.

“You broke into his keep and gutted him in his own home!” he shouted, slamming a fist against the bars, “you didn’t just murder him in cold blood either! You _tortured_ him! Pulled his insides from his belly while he was still alive!” Fela’s face remained impassive.  
“Yes,” was her calm reply.  
“You don’t even deny it!? You admit to torturing a dying man!?” Nate snarled, “you’re not even sorry, are you? You’re a _goddamn monster!_ ”  
“Yes, I am,” Fela replied without any hint of uncertainty or shame as she stepped closer to the bars. Nate stepped back before he was even aware of it and cursed at himself.  
“Why did you do it?” he found himself asking, “why did it have to be… like _that?_ ”

Fela stopped a few feet away from the bars.  
“Nate, I already know that nothing I can say will change your mind.”  
“ _Tell me!_ ” he snarled, leaping forward to grasp the bars and glare at her. Fela stood perfectly still as she watched him, his knuckles had turned white as he squeezed the bars, as if to crush them.

“The King summoned every noble in Ferelden to lend him his troops when the first signs of the Blight appeared in the Korkari Wilds. Your father, and mine, were to march south together. But your father’s men were delayed. So, my father decided to send Fergus ahead with our troops and he would remain at Highever waiting for your father’s troops to arrive. The night after Fergus had left, your father ordered his men to take Highever, and kill everyone inside. Servants, guests, guards, the cook, the Cousland family, _anyone,_ ” Fela spoke softly but clearly enough for Nate to hear every word perfectly.  
“They killed Dairen, Bann Loren’s son, and his wife too. They killed Oren, Fergus’s five year old son, and his wife Oriana in their beds. My mother and I found them after killing the men that attacked us. They bore your sigil. Highever was burning around us when we made it to the great hall, where our remaining men and staff were desperately trying to bar the doors, which your father’s men were assaulting with a battering ram. We fought our way to the kitchen larder, where we found my father bleeding out from a gut wound,” she gave Nate a poisonous look.  
“Your father did that.”

The air was almost vibrating with tension around her, her features had darkened, making it difficult for Nate to make out her face. But her eyes smouldered and burned underneath the shadows. It send a cold chill down Nathaniel’s spine, but he found himself unable to turn away from her gaze. She had him locked, he couldn’t move.

_Why couldn’t he move!?_

“I would have died there with my parents if not for Duncan. My father asked him to take me and my mother to safety, in exchange, I would become a Grey Warden,” Fela continued, “my mother refused to go, she stayed with my father. Duncan took me, and Asher,” she gestured to the massive Mabari by her side, “through a secret passage, and we ran. Your father’s men hunted us until we made it to Ostagar.”

Asher had bared his teeth in a vicious snarl, his fur bristled, standing up straight around the massive shoulders and neck. He was responding to his mistress, sensing her pitch black fury, and looking ready to tear Nathaniel’s arm off through the bars.

“When I saw your father in Denerim, he accused my family of conspiring with Orlais. Since Loghain Mac Tir could not stand Orlesians, King Cailan had my father handle the diplomatic relations. A convenient lie, especially to Loghain. When I confronted him later at the Arl’s of Denerim’s Estate to set free Queen Anora, he laughed in my face and said he had raped my mother after making her kiss his feet, after that he slit her throat. We fought our way through his dungeon to reach him, we found so many bodies of people tortured to death I lost count. And a few survivors, Oswyn Sighard, an elf named Soris, Irminric Eremon, and Vaughan Kendells. Your father set his men on us when we found him, so we fought. I cut your father in the same manner he had cut mine after breaking his ribs, cutting his hamstring, his arm, and his back. I kicked him while he was down when he cursed at me, then dragged him across the floor to set him against a wall. I made him show me his wound, parting the cut to show him his innards. Then I pointed out his small intestine, and pulled it from his gut while I watched him scream. He had the grace to ask me to finish it, I’ll give him that, though the prospect of death did nothing for his manners.”

Fela stepped a little closer still burning Nate with that dark gaze of hers. Nate wanted to scream, to make her stop talking, he wanted to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze it until her face turned puffy and red, and finally blue. But he found himself frozen in place, unable to move, not even to look away.

“I had one of my people put an arrow in his throat. He died choking on his own blood. And we left him there.” Fela leaned in a little closer, “I am not sorry Nate, I don’t have it in me. Not that you would have any use for it if I was. You came here to kill me, and now you are in my dungeon. A shame really, I bear no grudge towards you or Delilah. Now we are left with few outcomes, all of those unfortunate, congratulations, you fucked up.”

With that, Fela broke her gaze, turned, and left.

Nathaniel fell to his knees, panting heavily and clinging on to the bars. He didn’t see Alistair leave to follow Fela.

 _By Andraste what_ is _that woman?_

It was like she had… she had locked on to him somehow. He absorbed every emotion that radiated off her. Every ugly and twisted bit or fury and hatred that sprouted from an endless sea of grief. Nate wiped his brow with one hand, she _had_ changed. He had always known she had an unsettling gaze, but never like this. She was a Grey Warden now, he had no doubt that he had just seen the woman who had slain the Archdemon, maybe that was it. If there was any truth to what people said, she had been fighting for her life daily since Highever fell. Yes, that must be why here presence was so… strong.

Nathaniel frowned, he really had made a mess of things. He had seen her earlier that day, climbing onto the roof and going somewhere wearing armour and armed to the teeth. Instead of taking the shot, he had followed her to the stables and then she rode out on a horse with her brother. He had wanted to follow but could never keep up with the horses. Not to kill her, he wasn’t going to do that with her brother and that Mabari by her side, he had told himself.

But for some reason he found himself curious, where was she going, what was she doing? And when would she be back? And then Nathaniel found himself intrigued by the woman he came to kill. So he went back to the palace, where he had been caught. By then, he no longer intended to kill her. He was just… curious. And now that he had seen her, spoken to her, his curiosity should have been sated. The woman was a demon. Not the mage abomination kind, he had actually come across those, but the figurative kind.

And Nate wanted to see more.

Then he remembered what she did to his father and shook his head. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to accomplish by following her earlier that day, but it wasn’t this. He needed to figure out what to do now, this wasn’t the time to mope around because he was confused with himself. He needed to escape, or wait for Fela to decide what to do with him and hope for the best.

He decided to work on escaping while he waited, it didn’t make a difference. There was nothing he could use as a lockpick or a weapon, the guards knew to stay away from the bars, and they were sober. The chances of actually escaping were miniscule, but it was something to keep him occupied. He inspected the lock and the hinges on the door again, and repeated the process of feeling down every crack and crevice to see if there was anything stowed away by a former occupant.

He had nothing better to do anyway.

* * *

“Sweet, holy, Andraste, Fela,” Alistair finally said when they made it back to their chambers.

She shrugged, and poured a glass of brandy.

“Are you alright?” he asked when she didn’t reply and emptied the cup before refilling it.   
“I’m fine,” she said, “I just… need to shake it off.” He crossed the room to wrap his arms around her waist and gently embrace her.   
“Need some help? Shaking it off?” Fela chuckled.   
“I’m still sore honey.” Alistair rolled his eyes.   
“That’s not what I meant,” he replied and kissed her cheek.   
“I know,” she replied and turned her head for a kiss, “you’re already helping.” He was soothing, like he always was. He didn’t rile up things she kept under the surface. She leaned into him and set down her brandy.

“Let’s go to bed. I’ve had enough for one day.” Alistair picked her up without a word, and carried her to their bedroom.


	66. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair gets his stagnight, then he gets married.

“Alisir- hah, Ali Sir- Alistair!” Fergus bellowed, “where’d he go?” he added in quieter tones.  
“Beats me,” Magnus rumbled, “I forget what he looks like.”

They wandered around the Kettleman Inn both shouting and wailing for Alistair when Zevran dropped down from the balcony, Fergus laughed hysterically at the sight, doubling over.

“You knife ear cheater!” a man called from above, “I’ll have yer scalp!” Zevran groaned.  
“My friends, perfect timing.”  
“Zevran!” Fergus slurred, composing himself a little, “where’s- have you seen Alistair?”  
“No, but perhaps the nice gentleman upstairs has seen him?” Zevran suggested. Magnus squatted, tankard resting on his knee, and tumbled back on his ass, sloshing ale all over himself.  
“That’ll do, what’s going on lad,” Magnus slurred, “why’s-” he hiccupped, “why’s the nice man all piss’off?”

Before Zevran could answer he was jerked up to his feet.

“Oi!” Magnus roared, “we was havin’ a conversasion.”  
“You can have your conversation when I get my money back!” the man snapped at Magnus, who looked up at the strange man from a sitting position through hazy eyes. In a flash, he had the man holding Zevran in a headlock, still in his sitting position on the floor.  
“I said,” Magnus slurred, “we was having a convert- consv- conversation.”

Suddenly another man was on him, and Magnus threw both of them off as he got to his feet. One hit Fergus on the nose while he was laughing, and had his head slammed into a wall for his trouble when Fergus recovered from the haze of alcohol and the unexpected blow. He doubled over when another slammed himself into his midsection to tackle him. Fergus managed to redirect the force and send his attacker stumbling into a table and chairs.

Meanwhile Zevran kicked a man’s knees to send him stumbling to the ground while he threw another over his shoulder. Fela had taught him that once. Out of nowhere, Oghren stormed across the room, hurling anyone who stood in his way over his shoulders like a short, red, juggernaut. Teagan followed in his wake, somehow having lost his shirt and only wearing his coat. Someone hit Magnus on the back with a chair, but the giant didn’t waver. Instead he turned to pick the man up and threw him into a couple of his mates. They went down in a tumble of limbs.

“Blast it, where is that boy,” Magnus roared as he turned around and swayed a little, “Teagan! What’s he wearin? I forgot.”  
“What’s- whose- oh!” Teagan babbled, “uh, A red coat, and Zevran made his hair brown, and uh, an eyepatch I think, and a beard, maybe?”  
“Maybe!?” Magnus rumbled.  
“No! no definitely a beard!” Teagan replied, “maybe not the eyepatch then?”  
“Either way, time to go,” Fergus cut in merrily and started dragging both men towards the exit while Zevran and Oghren followed.

“There you are!” came Alistair’s cheery voice when Fergus pushed Teagan and Magnus outside.  
“Oh hey,” Teagan said lightly, “found him.”  
“Why you got a goat?” Magnus asked with a raised eyebrow.

“This, is Mitsy,” Alistair announced proudly, gesturing at a little white goat dramatically while it chewed on Alistair’s coat.  
“Yeah, but why do you have her?” Teagan asked, tripping over his own feet as Oghren bumped into him.  
“Now look at this _beauty!_ ” the dwarf roared, “we gonna roast it?”  
“No!” Alistair shouted, stepping in front of the goat protectively.

“So what are we going to roast?” Oghren pressed.  
“Well, I _am_ pretty hungry, are you hungry?” Zevran said nudging Fergus who was now laughing hysterically at the goat, which was chewing on Alistair’s coat.  
“Midnight snacks!” Magnus called, “we need-” he hiccupped again, “we need midnight snacks.”  
“Yes! Snacks!” Teagan shouted as he staggered to his feet, “at Mathilda’s they got these, big sandwiches with ham and a sauce that-”  
“Mathilda’s was three tavern’s back,” Magnus said, pulling Teagan up straight, “I say we go to the Golden Tooth. Get us some of that chicken they make with the crispy skin.”  
“Yes! Chicken!” Zevran exclaimed, “and more pints!”  
“More pints!” Alistair cheered, his fake beard hanging sideways.

“No! no, wait!” Oghren said, “what about the goat?”  
“Mitsy,” Alistair said curtly.  
“Ehr, the goat can have some cabbage or something,” Magnus said with a shrug.  
“Mitsy,” Alistair repeated.  
“Alright, Mitsy is officially part of this stag night, lead on uncle!” Fergus slurred.  
“We’re taking the goat as a mascot?” Oghren asked.  
“ _Mitsy,_ ” Alistair repeated.  
“Mascot, honoured guest, who cares, Mitsy’s coming, look at that face,” Zevran cooed and petted the goat’s head, “pretty as a halla.” It responded by fluttering its short tail, whatever that meant.

Six men and a goat walked into a tavern.  
“Welcome to the Golden Tooth, what can I get you?” said a redheaded serving girl.  
“Six pints, six portions of that crispy chicken you guys make, no make that ten, and some cabbage for my friend Mitsy,” Alistair said brightly. The serving girl looked at the goat.  
“Would Mitsy like a bowl of water too?”  
“Yes! That would be wonderful, thank you so much,” Alistair said and petted Mitsy’s flank. Fergus giggled.

“This is great, they don’t even care that we brought her!”  
“Where’d ya get her anyway?” Magnus asked.  
“I came back from the privy when I heard her bleating,” Alistair explained, “she was tied to a post two backyards away, and I thought, why is this little goat out here all alone? And I decided to take her, you know, all alone and bored. And, we’re having a good time, and she can have a good time, and now we’re all having a good time.”

Fergus had lost it at the mention of the privy and was now doubled over on the table.  
“You-” he giggled, “you climbed the walls separating those yards, to get a goat?”  
“Yes,” Alistair said with a shrug, “it seemed like a good idea.”  
“It seemed like a good idea to carry a goat over all those walls, just to get it back here?” Fergus continued through fits of laughter.  
“Actually, Mitsy did a lot better with those walls than I did,” Alistair said sheepishly.

The rest of the table joined in the laughter. So far they’d had thirteen taverns, the Golden Tooth would make fourteen and all men present were well into their cups. Zevran had somehow gained a fair amount of jewellery, a new coat, and his pockets were clinking with gold. Oghren was thirsty, Fergus was continuously giggling, Magnus kept forgetting what Alistair looked like with his disguise, and Teagan kept tripping over his own feet.

Alistair grinned as he looked around the table, noting that he was buzzed and completely content. He had everything he ever dreamed of and more.

“I love you guys,” he slurred as the pints were put on the table in front of them, “really, I do,” he added when five heads turned towards him. He raised his pint.  
“To you guys being awesome,” and spilled some ale on his chest while he drank. Zevran was grinning from ear to ear.  
“Ridiculously awesome!” he added and followed suit. Fergus put an arm around Alistair’s shoulders.  
“Welcome to the family little brother in law.” Alistair grinned so widely he thought his face might split.

Oghren had started singing, but the dwarven words were too slurred to understand. Somehow, in some inexplicable way, Zevran sang along in Antivan, and Fergus joined in along the way. After the chicken had been served, and devoured, Zevran started teaching Fergus how to make a lockpick out of a chicken bone, rapidly chattering away in Antivan. Fergus apparently understood every word, occasionally commenting on whatever Zevran was saying while Alistair tried his best to pick out words he recognised.

So far he had ‘conjo,’ ‘bonita,’ and ‘tata’s,’ though he wasn’t sure that last one was actually a word, and ‘puñalada,’ which he was pretty sure meant stabbing.

By the time they made it to the fifteenth tavern, they went the wrong way at first, Mitsy had chewed off Alistair’s fake beard.

So Oghren got some soot from the fireplace and painted on a new beard for Alistair. Alistair retaliated by drawing a penis on Oghren’s forehead with soot, convincing the dwarf it was epic warpaint. He also painted Zevran’s face, giving him whiskers because Fela had once called him a bad kitty. Lastly he painted Mitsy, to make her look like she was wearing Mabari warpaint.

They got kicked out when the entire tavern started painting each other with soot, dirtying the place. But they had already finished their pints so it was fine. Teagan was no longer able to walk on his own when they got to the last tavern, but he insisted he make it to the last pint. So Magnus and Fergus, who now sported a big black unibrow, carried him between the two of them. With Fergus laughing at Teagan’s inebriated state.

They sat him down on a bench with Mitsy sitting next to him. The little goat headbutted the drunken Bann every time he started to slump over and fall asleep. It made for marvellous entertainment for the other men, who had made it into a drinking game. Every time Mitsy headbutted Teagan, they drank. Every time Mitsy bleated, they drank. When Mitsy pooped on the tavern floor, they drank. Until at one point they were just drinking to everything Mitsy did.

Alistair wasn’t sure how he made it back to the palace. It involved a donkey, but other than that it was hazy. Either way, he made it to his bed somehow. He suspected Fela had put him to bed. Seeing as he couldn’t remember getting there by himself. When he awoke he had a massive headache and the light hurt his eyes. Fela was watching him with a smirk, propped up on one elbow. Then he heard bleating.

“Oh, Maker,” Alistair groaned and touched a hand to his head.  
“Sleep well?” Fela asked with a chuckle.  
“I don’t know,” he mumbled, “did I really bring the goat?”  
“Mistress Mitsy,” Fela nodded, “with her badass Mabari warpaint. Asher likes it, thinks it looks great on her actually.” Alistair groaned again, and squeezed his eyes shut. Fela chuckled again.

“We can keep her if you want, you said you had the best time together.” Another groan and Alistair rolled onto his side, turning his back towards Fela.  
“Oghren was sporting some epic warpaint of his own when they came to drop you off,” she continued, “am I correct in assuming that was your work as well?”  
“I think we got kicked out of a tavern because of it,” Alistair replied as the memories started to come back, “and the goat kept headbutting Teagan.” Fela laughed.  
“Now we _have_ to keep her.”

“What do you remember,” she asked.  
“It’s all kind of blurry after the eighth tavern,” Alistair admitted, “I don’t even know how I got home.” Fela giggled uncontrollably at the memory.

“What?” Alistair asked, “why are you giggling?”  
“You really don’t remember?” she asked.  
“Enlighten me,” he said dryly.

“You rode in on a donkey,” Fela said and Alistair cringed, “and you proclaimed it your noble steed and ordered the stable hands give it the best spot. Then you presented me with the goat,” Alistair groaned again and pulled the blankets over his head, “and I think it’s a wonderful wedding gift,” she teased.  
“You also professed your undying love, and promised to make me the happiest woman in Thedas,” she continued, slipping a hand under the covers to caress his shoulder, “which was the sweetest thing really.” Alistair turned around and peeked at her from under the blankets.  
“You can just say I’m an idiot.”  
“You’re _my_ idiot,” Fela replied with a smile.  
“Forever, after today,” he answered, “you should run while you can.” She smacked his ass.  
_“Hey!”_ he protested. She chuckled and got up to get Alistair some water.

“Oh, you’re a saint,” he sighed when she handed him a cup and drained it immediately. She refilled it and he drained it again.  
“Better?” she asked.  
“Yeah,” he sighed and leaned back on his pillow, “I needed that.” He took Fela’s hands and pulled her back onto the bed, she sat to straddle him, a small smile playing around her lips.

“Want to know what else I need?” he asked suggestively.  
“I can make a guess,” she replied, running her hands over his bare chest and leaning down to kiss him. He moved his hands to cup her ass, gently squeezing the firm flesh before running his hands up along her sides to cup her breasts. Fela nuzzled his neck ground herself against him through the sheets. The stubble on his cheeks tickled her skin, making her giggle.  
“What?” Alistair asked.  
“You’re prickly,” she replied and nibbled on his earlobe. He didn’t reply but rolled them over, pinning her to the bed and moving the sheets out of the way. Fela let out a low chuckle as she looked up at him.  
“Did I offend your stubble?”  
“The King’s stubble, actually,” he replied, “that’s _royal_ stubble.”  
“Does that mean I’m in trouble?” she grinned. Before Alistair could answer, they were interrupted by bleating. Both turned their heads to stare at Mitsy, chewing on one of Fela’s gloves.

“That’s disturbing, I don’t want to be in trouble anymore,” Fela commented as the little white goat covered with soot smutches stared at them while it chewed. Alistair groaned, letting his head drop to one of Fela’s shoulders.  
“Now we’re getting cockblocked by goats...”  
“Should we put it in one of the gardens?” Fela asked.  
“The gardener would likely have a fit,” Alistair replied.  
“And Mitsy would have grass to chew,” Fela replied with a shrug, “instead of my glove.” She turned her head back to the goat.  
“You can keep that, I’ll get you the other one later.”

Mitsy didn’t move but for her tail, which twitched a little. And her chewing of course. Alistair rolled off Fela and buried his head under a pillow.

Fela got up, stretched, and moved to find some decent enough clothes to leave their chambers.  
“Come on,” she said and tossed Alistair a pair of pants, “time to clean up the spoils of your stag night.”  
“But my head hurts,” he complained.  
“Yeah, I bet,” she chuckled, “come on, get up.”  
“But _why?_ ”  
“You brought the goat.”  
“You just said it was a wonderful wedding gift!”  
“Yeah, in a garden, not our bedroom.”  
“Fair point.”

* * *

Fela and Alistair eventually found a good spot for Mitsy near the stables. There was plenty of grass, shade, and stuff to climb. But before that, they retraced Alistair's steps from the night before.

Most servants managed to ignore the sight of their massively hungover King stumbling down the palace with a little white goat in tow, but some couldn’t suppress their smiles or giggles. Good-humoured and kind hearted as Alistair was, he returned the smiles and giggles with a self-conscious lopsided grin. Rumours and stories about their new King’s stag night had already started to spread, the King had come home with a donkey and a goat after all. And those were just the animals he brought.

As Fela and Alistair retraced his steps after arriving back at the palace the night before, they found more odd things that Alistair had picked up and brought home. There was a flowerpot without a plant in it, though there was plenty of dirt in it so chances were he had just lost the plant somewhere along the way and didn’t notice it. There was a rugged blanket put around the shoulders of a statue of King Maric and he was wearing a crown of flowers.

At his feet, lay Oghren, still sleeping soundly, vague penis shaped smudges still on his forehead. Which meant he was snoring so loud, nobody could miss him and guards and servants walked around him in a wide arch. He cursed and spat when Fela poked him with a stick that may have been Maric’s ‘sceptre’, to wake him up. Then he saw who was poking him awake and he calmed down.

Neither man could remember who made the crown of flowers and who climbed up the statue to put it on Maric’s stone head, but they both agreed it was right up Zevran’s alley.

Of course, the elf was nowhere to be found. He might still be partying for all they knew, or sleeping it off in some clever hiding place none of them would ever think to look in. Zevran always made sure he was secure and protected before he went to sleep, even while staying in the palace.

He had once said it was to avoid jealous husbands of the women he bedded, and the jealous wives of the men he bedded, which were the more dangerous if Zevran was to be believed. Oghren was happy to see Mitsy anyway, petting the goat gently on her flank.

“So where are you taking this little lass?” Oghren asked, “we had a great time last night, didn’t we?” he asked the goat. Mitsy didn’t reply or respond of course.  
“A better suited place than our bedroom,” Alistair said, immediately regretting his words. Oghren let out a greasy laugh, called him a depraved animal, and the three of them continued on their way.

They found more odd things while they made their way towards the stables, there was an uprooted bush, stuffed upside down into a metal, women’s cuirass of which nobody was sure where it came from. They also found a set of garden gnomes, some of them were cracked or missed a piece, arranged around a brazier. One of them was _under_ the upturned brazier, like it had been caged, seeing as it wasn’t currently burning.

There was also a barrel full of hay, probably meant for Mitsy, several hats, distributed over various statues, and a chair. Which somehow got stuck in a chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Where the chair came from, neither Alistair nor Oghren remembered. But Oghren did vaguely recall Fergus dragging it behind him while he was drunkenly waddling back to the palace. They figured it must have come from one of the inns they visited but how they managed to sneak it out, and why, remained a mystery. Even more so how it got stuck up in a chandelier hanging from a ceiling twenty feet high.

When they reached the stables, Fela took Alistair and Oghren to get reacquainted with the donkey. She broke out laughing when the two men awkwardly approached the donkey to pet it and feed it a carrot. Then doubled over when the donkey appeared to recognise them and gladly accepted the carrot and the petting. Going so far as to rub its head against Alistair’s arm.

“Well,” Alistair said, “seems we have a new addition to our collection of pets.”  
“Noble steed,” Fela hiccupped, “King’s ass,” and continued laughing uncontrollably, leaning against a post. Suddenly, Zevran arose from a pile of hay, shaking off bits as he sat up.  
“Ai, mi cabeza,” he groaned.

Fela sank to her knees, laughing helplessly and still leaning on the post and banging a fist on it.

“Ah, stop it querida, you are making it worse,” Zevran said and rested his head in his palms. Fela couldn’t help herself, the donkey, the goat, all the random shit they had found on their way here, and now Zevran shooting up from a pile of hay that completely concealed him up until then, it was too much. Tears of laughter streamed down her cheeks.

“Alright,” she stifled another laugh, “alright, I’m going crack up every time I see this donkey. I love it, let’s keep it.” She indeed cracked up again when she cast a glance at it, now nuzzling Oghren’s ear while Alistair scratched it between its ears.

“Did we name it?” Alistair asked. The dwarf shrugged.  
“Dunno, maybe Zev remembers.”  
“Zev, does not remember,” the elf replied, standing up gingerly.  
“What about the owner?” Oghren said, “they might know.”

“Ah, shit, the owner,” Alistair said, “we might be stealing someone’s pack animal. And I don’t remember where I got it.”  
“We’ll inform the guard captain to send any reports of stolen or missing donkey’s to me,” Fela said, “if we find the owner I’ll offer to replace it, pay for it, or return it if that’s what they want. Same for the goat. We can’t go stealing people’s animals, sorry honey, I’ll do my best but I can’t promise you they won’t be attached to their animals.” Alistair sighed and nodded.

“Of course. The owners will be looking for their animals now, all worried and dismayed.”  
“This is coming out of your funds by the way,” Fela added sweetly. He glared at her playfully.  
“Consider me properly chastised.”  
“Ugh, my hangover wants roast nug,” Oghren groaned and belched. Zevran gagged a little but managed to keep it down, “and maybe some dry toast for him,” Oghren added with a thumb pointed in Zevran’s direction.

“Hmm, mine wants bacon, and eggs, oh and apple draw, and some of those cream filled pastries, and-” Alistair started but got cut off by Zevran.  
“We get it, you’re a hungry Grey Warden, please shut up.” Fela chuckled.  
“That bad, huh? If you’re letting ‘cream filled pastries’ pass. Come on, we’ll fix you up,” and gestured for the men to follow her.

They shared a hearty breakfast, Fergus, Magnus, and Teagan already having made it to the dining hall where Leliana and Wynne were sharing a cup of coffee. Zevran quickly felt better after tentatively eating an apple, and started to devour his share of hangover food. Gaps in memories were filled, though not all, nobody could remember how they got a chair in a chandelier, and stories were exchanged. Alistair’s stag night was a great success, as all men agreed. The rules of the Mitsy drinking game were explained, though it was also explained that they were looking for the owners of the animals Alistair brought home, so they might not get to play it again. The donkey did indeed get a name; Archibald. Which caused Fela to laugh herself to tears.

After breakfast, the men and women split up once more to prepare for the wedding.

Which bored Fela to death, if she were honest. Make-up, dresses, hair, and shoes can only fill so much time, and she wasn’t one to endlessly fret about her looks. Fela, while happy to marry Alistair, didn’t care much for ceremony, she didn’t care if the flowers were not arranged perfectly, she didn’t care if there was suddenly an extra guest to deal with, or that one of the musicians needed new strings for his lute. All these were fairly easily dealt with. But the waiting.

The sitting around in a chamber filled with women, who currently resembled a bunch of excitedly clucking chickens, ‘because the groom should not see the bride before the wedding’. She was bored, she liked dresses and shoes well enough, but she couldn’t fill an entire day with them. And knowing what was coming didn’t make it any better.

The Grand Cleric would be marrying them, and the Grand Cleric liked reading long, monotonous, mind-numbing passages from the Chant. The woman had never liked Alistair, and Fela had quite a reputation that painted her as anything but a devout Andrastian. Which she wasn’t anyway, so that was perfectly fine. But she expected it to be drawn out, slow, traditional, and boring.

Maybe she should ask Leliana to subtly remind the Grand Cleric of their uncovering of one of the Chantry’s most holy relics, the Urn of Sacred Ashes and eradicating the dragon cult that kept it hidden. That might put her in a more forgiving mood. There was still that high dragon of course, ‘Andraste,’ but the Chantry had plenty of resources to deal with that on its own. More than they ever did during the Blight anyway. And it wasn’t like they had time to make sure a potential place of pilgrimage was readily accessible for what Fela essentially considered religious tourism.

No offense to Andraste. But it seemed perverse that even after all this time they wouldn’t let the poor woman rest in peace. Some might call it worship, Fela called it personal indulgences of religious nuts. Sure, she had come there for those ashes, she had taken them, cured Arl Eamon, and gone right back to stopping the Blight. She had used Andraste’s ashes as a means to an end, she had come to the temple in the first place, because it was a means to an end. She didn’t come for Andraste, she came for those Ashes. And there would be many others like her.

And Fela knew from experience that the gauntlet didn’t filter out those who didn’t share the views of the Chantry. Her views on Andraste and the Chantry bordered on Tevene, as she well knew. Not something you share with patriotic Ferelden nobles, let alone the Grand Cleric, if you want to marry Ferelden’s King. Fela didn’t possess any particular affinity for Tevinter and their version of an organised society, but that would hardly matter to the Grand Cleric. Disagreeing with the Chant of Light meant heresy, simple as that. So, Fela kept her thoughts on Andraste to herself.

She had been brooding on the upcoming ceremony, the Grand Cleric, and Andraste in silence for a while. The women in her company thought it was nerves. After all, she was supposed to be the blushing bride. Fela closed her eyes, willed herself to relax and go along with it all.

 _Smile and wave,_ she told herself, _you are marrying Alistair, forget about the rest._

So that’s what she did. She let go of her resistance, and went along with it.

 _Smile and wave,_ it was fairly simple, once you got the hang of it.

* * *

Alistair was pacing back and forth in the room that had been set apart for the groom.

He was nervous, but he wasn’t sure why. He felt uneasy. Not with the idea of marrying Fela but with the idea of standing in front of all those nobles while he was expected to be on his best behaviour. Yes, that was it. He was afraid he’d drop the ring or something, or say the wrong words, or trip over his own feet.

He looked at himself in the mirror again. He was still getting used to seeing himself in such fancy garments, even though he had been King for a while now.

“Your hair is _fine,_ Alistair,” Fergus sighed, “stop fretting.”  
“ _You_ stop fretting,” Alistair replied indignantly. Fergus chuckled.  
“You sound like my sister.” Alistair flashed a lopsided grin.  
“Don’t tell me you think she is panicking,” Alistair said, “she’s probably all calm and collected, patiently waiting… Why can’t I be calm and collected and patiently waiting?”  
“Because you keep fretting about your hair,” Fergus replied.  
“I’m _not_ fretting about my hair,” Alistair insisted.  
“Good, because it’s fine,” Fergus replied easily.

Alistair went back to pacing.

“You are allowed to sit down you know, it’s your palace,” Fergus said lightly.  
“I don’t want to crinkle this suit,” he replied.  
“You won’t be doing a lot of sitting after the Grand Cleric starts talking,” Fergus said idly.  
“I’ll manage,” Alistair answered. Fergus sighed, and leaned back in the chair he sat in, watching the other man pace back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

“Alright,” Fergus said leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “what’s the problem? Getting cold feet?” Alistair stopped abruptly to look at Fergus.  
“No, my feet are fine.” Fergus rolled his eyes.  
“I’m talking about the freak-out that every guy is supposed to have right before he ties the knot.”  
“I know, I’m fine,” Alistair said, “on the marrying Fela part, anyway.”  
“So what crawled up your butt?” Fergus inquired, earning a sideways look from Alistair.

“Nobles,” Alistair finally said.  
“Nobles?” Fergus asked, “because you’ll be on display, standing in front of the altar?” He nodded.  
“Fuck nobles,” Fergus replied with a wide hand gesture.

“'Fuck nobles,'” Alistair repeated, “see, I thought I was already doing that.” Fergus chuckled.  
“Careful now, she’s still my little sister.”  
“She doesn’t mind, I assure you,” Alistair replied with a smirk.  
“I don’t want to know,” Fergus replied with a dismissive gesture.

“Anyway,” Alistair said by means of switching topics, “I’m not comfortable with all this… I don’t know, hysteria? Around it all? Why do we have to be on display like we are there to entertain guests? You know, I don’t need Lord such-and-such present to marry the woman I love. I don’t need long speeches and formalities. This all feels like we are doing it to please others, like this isn’t about us at all but about the crowd getting a spectacle.” Fergus nodded.

“You’re right, that’s exactly what this is.” Alistair scowled.  
“You’re not helping.”  
“I know, I’m terrible,” Fergus smirked. Alistair sighed.  
“What are you trying to say?”

“You’re there to marry Fela, you only need eyes for her,” Fergus said, “you’re not there to entertain them, you are allowing them to be present for your wedding, you _allowed_ it. People are mostly just happy to be here. You can just as easily have them tactfully relocated if they bug you, we’ll take care of it. All you need to do, is look pretty and take my sister to be your wife. The feast will take care of itself, _because_ it is a spectacle.”

“So, you’re saying, ‘just smile and wave?’” Alistair asked.  
“Pretty much,” Fergus answered.  
“Is that a family credo or something?” Alistair continued. Fergus chuckled.  
“Between me and my sister, yes. It’s what we told each other whenever had to go to some tedious tea party or whatever where our mother would ‘present’ us to other nobles. Good times.”  
“It works remarkably well,” Alistair commented. Fergus grinned sheepishly.  
“It does, doesn’t it. I should go, it’s almost time. Don’t go nuts, and I’ll see you at the altar, alright?”  
“Alright,” Alistair replied, clasping the other man’s hand, “tell her I said hi.”  
“Will do,” Fergus replied, and left to find his sister.

* * *

Fergus’ jaw dropped when her saw Fela in her wedding dress. He had always known she was beautiful, he had eyes, but right now she looked absolutely gorgeous. Proud, carrying her scars like badges of honour, regal in her beauty and posture. But she wore an impish grin on her face.

“Look at you,” he said softly as he took her hands in his, “you look perfect.” Fela grinned a bit wider.  
“Thank you for the compliment.”  
“Alistair is going to lose his shit,” Fergus replied with a matching grin.  
“Because you just did?” Fela replied with a sideways look, “he’ll be fine.”  
“No, really,” Fergus insisted, “we are going to be stepping over jaws, walking down the aisle.”  
“You flatter me,” she replied casually.  
“Well, let’s go and find out,” Fergus said and offered her his arm.

It was almost hard to believe that the delicate, well-manicured hand that rested on his arm was one of the pair that had driven a bolt through the Archdemon’s skull.

Leliana and Shale followed them as bridesmaids, Leliana wearing a delicate light blue dress, and Shale wearing matching pale blue crystals. She asked Wynne too but the mage had politely declined, stating that she was a bit old to be a bridesmaid. Fela had asked Shale to be a bridesmaid because she considered the golem a friend, but she couldn’t deny that the idea of having a golem as a bridesmaid amused her.

Isolde had protested, Fela had ignored it. She wanted her friends with her, and Shale was one of them. Asher would be sitting by the altar, another thing Isolde had protested. Fela had once again ignored it. Briefly considering Asher as a ringbearer just to annoy Isolde, but she didn’t want to do that to Asher. He would take it as an insult to be used as some silly cliché, he was a _goddamn Mabari war hound._ Though he spent time as a lapdog as well but that was private.

Oghren and Zevran stood behind Alistair near the altar as he watched Fela walk down the aisle on Fergus’ arm. She looked radiant, and he counted himself lucky that, as the groom, he was allowed to stare. The Grand Cleric droned on while he was fixated on the woman in front of him and she on him.

Whatever the Grand Cleric said, and how long it took, neither one noticed. Alistair didn’t make a fool of himself as he had feared, but presented the perfect image of a happy groom. The chapel erupted in applause, cheers, and hoots when they kissed. And again when Alistair placed a delicate crown on Fela’s head. Then the pair submitted themselves to a tour of the city and the following feast.

It was to be a day of celebration for the entire city, and for once, everything went as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I just needed to get this out of the way. I don't really care about weddings, so hopefully I counterbalanced that with the stagnight. It was great fun to write.
> 
> Translation:  
> "ai, mi cabeza,"  
> "ai, my head,"


	67. Adjustment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on after the wedding, and the newly wed pair meet a new set of Orlesian Grey Wardens.

Fela had decided it was time to deal with Anora, the former Queen had been locked up in a tower for months now. And it was time that they made a decision, execute her, or allow her to swear an oath of fealty.

Fela leaned towards executing her, Anora was not someone who would give up after being defeated. Alistair however, was of a different mind. And Fela had to agree to give the little snake a chance. But when Anora refused to swear such an oath, they were at an impasse. So, she remained in the tower, where she was apparently comfortable enough to stay. Fela had her and her guards watched. Any correspondence Anora received, went through the spymaster first, same for any outgoing correspondence.

In the end Fela decided it was fine. Either Anora stayed in her tower, or she did something stupid to get herself executed. Alistair might not want to do that as things stood, but he wouldn’t let her get away with treason if she committed it.

Nathaniel Howe remained a problem. Or rather, the Orlesian Wardens remained a problem. Fela had slowly started to gather people who would fit the Order she was trying to rebuild, and she needed to know how to prepare the Joining ritual. She was planning to conscript Nate. But the Orlesian Wardens were slow to reply to her letters, and Fela wasn’t fond of the idea of receiving more members of the Orlesian chapter.

The longer it took to make new Wardens, the longer it took Fela to recruit and assign. She couldn’t name anyone lieutenant or captain or whatever if the Joining might still kill them, it would constantly mess up organisation. They needed to be Wardens first, and only then could she truly start to rebuild. That meant Nathaniel remained in his cell, which wasn’t exactly helping. Letting him out wasn’t an option, he’d bolt. And she needed to keep an eye on him.

She didn’t visit him in the time he waited, it wouldn’t make a difference. He needed to find answers on his own, she couldn’t give them to him. Rendon Howe had been a monster, and she stood by what she had done. But he was still Nate’s father, and he couldn’t reconcile the image of his father with the things Fela said he had done. Nate needed to find out for himself.

Meanwhile she was administering Amaranthine, and the nobles weren’t happy that Alistair appointed her instead of someone from their midst. But there was nothing she could do to change that. So she saw to it that the Arling kept running. She dealt with refugees who had left the Blight stricken lands for greener pastures. The Blight hadn’t reached Amaranthine, they stopped it before it got that far. But there were still a lot of darkspawn sightings. More than she felt was normal. She needed Grey Wardens, and after the last pair of Orlesian Wardens she had met, she didn’t look forward to meeting more.

But she was expecting another envoy nonetheless, hopefully they were easier to work with.

Fergus had returned to Highever, Oghren had returned to Felsi near Kinloch Hold, and Leliana was preparing to have the new spymaster take over so she could go on an expedition to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Magnus had returned to the Storm Coast, and Wynne and Shale were planning a trip to Tevinter. One by one, all her companions were leaving, except Zevran, who now worked for himself. He had established a network in Denerim but would soon be expanding to other cities. And Fela was starting to feel lonely.

In fact, she was feeling weepy, easily upset. And that bugged her. So, she left her office and wandered around the palace gardens for a bit to clear her head. She visited Mitsy, who had never been claimed, and watched the goat play with Asher and the other goats. Figuring a goat was a herd animal, they had purchased three additional goats so Mitsy wouldn’t be lonely. It occurred to her then, that she was having trouble getting used to a normal life again.

Perhaps that was the reason she hadn’t been feeling like herself, because quite frankly, after a year of fighting for her life, being Queen and Arlessa was dull. She was under-stimulated, and her companions were leaving. Her herd was splitting up. That would explain her crankiness.

She spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the shade of an overhanging tree, her back against its trunk and obscured by bushes, losing herself in memories from the Blight. She secretly missed being on the road, hunting for dinner, cooking it over a campfire. The quiet of it all, as opposed to the continuously bustling city. She could use a place far away from other people, where she could be truly alone.

She’d make a good hermit, she decided, even though she had grown up in a city. But Queens can’t be hermits, she had known it when she agreed to be Alistair’s Queen. That didn’t mean she couldn’t sneak off to have a moment to herself however, and she was rather good at it. She had never gotten over her habit of disappearing for short periods of time, to be alone. The court would just have to get used to it.

The sun was low in the sky when she emerged from her hiding place, whistling for Asher to come along. The hound easily bounded over the fence that kept Mitsy in her pen, and happily followed his mistress, tongue lolling out of his mouth. They walked to the training grounds to find Alistair, who was sparring with Teagan and thoroughly kicking the older man’s ass. Fela waited until the bout was over, and Teagan lay sprawled on his back in the dirt.

“Alistair,” Teagan panted, “I think you need to find a new sparring partner.” Alistair smiled and helped Teagan up.   
“She just arrived.” He looked up at Fela and waved her over. She arched an eyebrow but lifted her skirt and stepped into the ring.   
“Looking for a fight? Dear husband?” she teased and brought out the daggers she kept hidden on her person at all times, “armed or hand to hand?”   
“Hand to hand,” Alistair replied. She gave her daggers to Teagan. Followed by both of her boot knives, the dagger strapped to her thigh, and the rapiers she still carried everywhere. It earned her a slightly surprised grin from Teagan, who moved away to give them enough space.

They circled each other before Alistair lunged forward and aimed a right hook at her side, she twisted out of the way, letting Alistair move past her and pushing him forward to make him stumble. He jumped and ducked into a roll before she could sweep his legs from under him with a kick. Alistair rolled to his feet and lunged again, this time aiming to grab Fela around her waist. She sidestepped, took one of his arms and kneed his side, making him grunt as he let himself drop.

Fela let go of his arm but aimed a heel drop at his chest. He rolled out of the way, grabbing her ankle and pulling her down with him. Fela caught herself on one knee, yanking her ankle free from Alistair’s grasp and rolling back over her shoulder to put some distance between them and get to her feet. Fela aimed a roundhouse kick at Alistair while he was still getting up, he took the hit, wrapping his arm around her leg and holding it there against his side.

She leaned into it, hooking one arm around Alistair’s neck and twisting back to pull him down again. He resisted her pull at first, but grabbed her around her waist as he lost his balance to take her down with him again. She was counting on this, going along with it and staying on top of him. He rolled her over, and she used the momentum to buck her hips and throw him off.

They picked up speed, exchanging punches and kicks. If Fela was hindered by the skirts, Teagan didn’t see it. She occasionally showed a scandalous amount of leg, such was the nature of skirts when you don’t keep your feet planted on the ground, but her movements appeared unhampered. She didn’t trip over them, and seemed unbothered by them flaring around her legs.

Alistair went at her hard, exercising much more speed and strength than he had done with Teagan. But while Alistair was strong and fast, Fela was nimble and quick as lightning. She never moved more than she needed to, Teagan observed, each movement was carefully measured and controlled allowing for incredible speed. She wasted no movement, and used Alistair’s bulk against him.

She struck him square in the chest with two open palms when he briefly lost his balance, causing him to stumble back. He knocked her fist aside, grabbing her elbow and pulling her towards him. She spun into the movement, jabbing her other elbow into his ribs and twisted to make him release her. She ducked to avoid a blow to the back of her head, slamming her palm into his chin as she came up.

The blow disoriented Alistair a bit, as blows to the chin often do, so he backed up while Fela came at him again. She kicked his legs from under him, he went down on his back and found himself trapped in a headlock. Unable to throw her off with her thighs around his head, he tapped her leg and surrendered. Fela released her hold on him and sat up, grinning at Alistair, who was still lying on his back on the ground. He grinned back, staring up at her.

“Again?” she asked with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow. Alistair chuckled.   
“I think I’ve had enough.”   
“Good, because I’m hungry,” Fela replied, stood, and dusted herself off as best she could.   
“You are always hungry,” Alistair answered as he followed suit.   
“And?” Fela asked innocently.   
“And I am always hungry too, let’s grub,” he replied brightly and slipped an arm around her waist as Teagan approached.

“Impressive as always,” Teagan said with a respectful nod as he handed Fela’s weapons back. Fela smiled warmly.   
“Thank you, Teagan.”   
“Honestly, I don’t see why you’re not his permanent sparring partner, you’re much better matched than I am,” he continued.   
“That’s just because we’ve been doing it almost every day for a year and a half,” she replied, “and you always need more sparring partners,” she added with a shrug, “no sense in only sparring with one person.”

“Wasn’t I the only person you sparred with during the Blight?” Alistair asked.   
“Yes, but I got to fight darkspawn and bandits on the daily so it was fine,” she replied, “plenty of different opponents, you are just the only one I wasn’t actively trying to kill.”   
“Thank the maker for that,” Alistair replied playfully, “I wasn’t actively trying to kill you either.”   
“A match made in heaven,” Teagan replied dryly, “you said something about being hungry?”   
“Yes!” Fela said brightly, completely forgetting her earlier melancholy, “food! Let’s go.”

Alistair let himself be dragged toward the dining hall while Teagan followed.

* * *

Greeting the three Orlesian Wardens had been a somewhat stiff exchange. Fela made no secret of the fact that their colleagues had left a bad impression, and it set the Wardens on edge.

Jean-Marc Stroud, a young dark haired man, did his best to be properly respectful. Which the Queen seemed to appreciate, but she felt by no means inclined to offer any answers to questions they asked about her survival. She dead-panned the conversation each time it went in that direction, making it clear she wouldn’t discuss it. The King was mostly the same, though not as icy as his wife, who had no problem cutting him off with a flat ‘no’ when he started asking if she might tell him about the battle of Denerim.

Stroud wondered what his brothers might have said to earn her ire while she spoke.   
“You are welcome to stay at the palace,” the Queen said, “we have rooms prepared for you, don’t hesitate to ask a servant if you need anything, they have been informed of your presence.”   
“Thank you, your Majesty,” Stroud replied with a bow, “that would be most welcome.”   
“Adamant Fortress is a long way from here,” she replied graciously, “I imagine you must be looking forward to rest. We will speak again over dinner.” Stroud thanked her again and he and his colleagues followed a servant who would show them to their rooms.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” the red headed Warden next to him said quietly.   
“I think we will be able to form a working relationship, if we focus on the future rather than the past,” Stroud replied.   
“Yeah, she’s prickly about that,” Moira Fabliaux replied, casting a sideways glance at Stroud, “Frederic and Armand must have really pissed her off.”   
“You don’t suppose she’s hiding something?” asked the third Warden, Felix Germain, quietly. Moira gave him a warning look and nodded towards the servant walking in front of them.

“We’ve confirmed that she had only been a Warden for less than a year, her husband joined six months prior,” she whispered, “chances are they truly don’t know and they are genuinely offended at the scrutiny they are under after saving us a whole lot of trouble.” Felix glared at her.   
“'Chances'” he repeated.   
“Well, it’s rude to doubt them,” Moira replied, “we all felt it when the Archdemon was slain, it’s gone.”   
“And yet she remains,” Felix retorted.   
“Quiet you two,” Stroud hissed, “we don’t need a repeat of the failure of Coutreaux and le Goff, enough damage has been done. What matters is rebuilding the Order here and drive out darkspawn, _that’s_ our job.” Of course, _his_ job was also figuring out if the Warden Queen was trustworthy, but they didn’t need to know that.

Stroud had met Fela Cousland once, though she probably didn’t recognise him, it had been nearly ten years ago when he had still been training as Chevalier in Val Royeaux and he didn’t yet have a moustache. Her father had brought her and her brother to see the Académie de Chevaliers. She was young, especially for one of her reputation nowadays.

Back then, she had been shy and withdrawn, skinny, with dark circles under her eyes. She must have been thirteen, maybe fourteen when he saw her watching the training yard. Studying the training recruits with a keen eye. Jean-Marc had been eighteen, or nineteen, and hadn’t really known how to speak to girls that age, they mostly just seemed air-headed and dramatic to him. But not this one.

He’d asked her what she was doing, and she had answered that she admired the way the trainees were exploiting weak points in their opponent’s armour. It had been about the last thing he had expected, as he remembered, she was wearing a delicate blue dress at the time. At first glance, nothing about her indicated she might be familiar with any kind of fighting, save cat fights.

When he had asked her if she had ever heard of Aveline, she had grinned at him. Of course she knew of Aveline, but she had no intention of becoming a knight herself because she wasn’t well suited to heavy armor. He’d asked her what she wanted to become then, she had shrugged and said she didn’t know, but she wanted to be able to defend herself at all times.

The way she said it told him this wasn’t the fancy of a girl dreaming of being a heroine. This was a girl who knew exactly what she might need to defend herself from. She showed him she always carried a knife or dagger with her, hidden in her skirts. When he had asked her why a noble young lady would need it she had gone cold and distant. Much like she did now when he tried to ask her about the battle of Denerim. Back then he had assumed it was because she thought he was mocking her. It had never occurred to him, that she didn’t want to talk about what had happened to her.

Though he had suspicions.

Now, she was the Warden Queen. She and her husband had rebuild the army that had been lost at Ostagar, and slain the Archdemon. All the while being hunted by the King Regent’s men. He had to admit, he was curious how the shy, skinny girl he had met at the training yard one day had transformed into the Warden Queen he met today. Wife to Alistair Theirin, blood of Calenhad and King of Ferelden. And the Order wasn’t sure how to respond to two such powerful individuals in their ranks.

Some resented that these Grey Wardens were deeply involved with politics. Others were suspicious of how two inexperienced Grey Warden recruits managed to stop a Blight. Some of them considered their survival reason for suspicion, though nobody knew of _what_ exactly. There were some who believed it was Riordan who had taken the final blow but that the Ferelden monarchs took credit and used it in their grasp for power because it would explain why neither of them was dead.

That last one, Stroud knew to be false. People had seen Riordan fall long before the Archdemon was slain, veterans of the battle confirmed it was Fela Cousland who struck the final blow, there was not a single report that indicated otherwise. Nor were there any people to be found who could confirm it had been Riordan, and not Fela, who killed the Archdemon. And there wasn’t a single Grey Warden in Orlais who could still hear the Archdemon’s call. The Old God, Urthemiel, was gone.

Dining with the King and Queen of Ferelden was a pleasant affair, Stroud noted. The King was good-humoured and interested in their journey from Adamant Fortress to Denerim. While the Queen remained a bit distant towards them, Stroud suspected she was still sizing them up, she was perfectly polite and friendly. So long as the conversation wasn’t steered towards the chain of events during the Blight. Which isn’t to say she was impolite when the Blight came up, she just refused to speak on it. He noticed Moira kicking Felix under the table several times when he tried to press the issue. The Queen apparently picked up on it and let them steer the conversation in a different direction.

By the end of the evening they had discussed manning Vigil’s Keep in Amaranthine, and the supplies needed to prepare the Joining ritual for new Wardens that the Queen had already been scouting for. All things considered, it was a fruitful evening. Stroud wrote up his report, of which Moira wrote a copy for the royals, and retired feeling more confident than he had when they arrived earlier that day.

* * *

Alistair closed the door behind him, turned, and looked at Fela who let herself drop on the sofa in front of the hearth.

“They’re much better than the last two,” she said while stretching, followed by a yawn, “I don’t like Germain, though.”   
“Well, at least he isn’t constantly insinuating we are lying,” Alistair said with a shrug, “that gets tiresome when you’re actually lying.”   
“You’d think that they would eventually let it go if we keep telling them the same thing, we were recruits, we didn’t know shit, you guys were no help, but we got the job done,” she summarised, “Stroud and Fabliaux seem to accept it for now though.”

“You think they doubt us?” Alistair asked.   
“Probably,” Fela said, “but not in the same way Coutreaux and le Goff did.”   
“As in, they accept that the Archdemon is gone but they think we may have unwittingly done something that led to your survival?” Alistair replied, and she nodded.   
“They’ll ask about again at some point, but they realise they won’t get any answers for free,” Fela answered.   
“What kind of answers?” Alistair asked, thinking of Morrigan, now probably about six months pregnant with his son.

“The kind they come up with on their own,” Fela said with a shrug, “I’m not telling them shit. I didn’t even tell Fergus. All they need to know is that we fought and killed it, we don’t know about souls of Old Gods, we’re just recruits.”   
“You’re the Commander of the Ferelden chapter,” Alistair countered.   
“Yeah, because I am one of only two people available for the job,” she retorted, “not because of my vast knowledge of Grey Warden lore.”   
“You’ve learned quite a bit in these last few months,” he commented.   
“Not enough,” she said darkly, “I went over everything we have four times, reading between every line, dissecting every passage, and still I’ve got nothing that might convince them.”

Alistair joined Fela on the sofa and pulled her into his arms, she settled against him like a cat nestling on his lap and sighed. Her head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck and she almost purred at the contact. She would have if she could.

“I’m tired,” she whispered.   
“Already? The sun isn’t even down yet,” Alistair asked.   
“Yeah,” was her only reply before they both fell silent.

He felt Fela’s breathing become deeper as it slowed down, and her eyes slowly closed as the lids got heavy. She listened to Alistair’s heartbeat as she slowly drifted along the fine line between sleep and awareness, it was one of her favourite places. The realm between the Fade and the world, where she felt utterly content. There she could drift, unburdened by conscious thought, knowing that Alistair kept her safe. And Alistair loved to cuddle. At one point Asher joined them on Alistair’s other side, putting his head in Alistair’s lap. Fela sleepily stroked one of his ears, because the fur was so soft there. It felt nice on her fingertips.

She felt perfectly happy in that moment, and she shamelessly revelled in it.

Alistair moved her to the bed eventually, where she tried to curl up before undressing. He had to poke her a few times to get her to work with him but she complied eventually. He chuckled at her, amused by how sleepy she was before kissing her temple and leaving her to sleep. She slept a deep sleep, Urthemiel watched over her but left her to her dreams. He sensed how tired she was when she entered the Fade.

Some nights it was just better to let her dream.

* * *

Alistair went to find Teagan, looking for a drink.

The Bann could usually be found in his chambers, but he didn’t find him there. So Alistair wandered the palace, checking the Bann’s office, the library, the kitchens, the gardens, the stables, and eventually the kennels. He was greeted by enthusiastic barking from a dozen Mabari hounds, bouncing around in their pens. One particularly clever Mabari, opened his own pen and bounded towards Alistair, who greeted the four footer enthusiastically. Going down on one knee to rub the dog’s flanks and ruffling the fur of his neck. The hound licked Alistair’s face and wagged its tail.

“There’s a good dog,” he cooed, “clever aintcha?”   
“And he’s going to be a daddy, I hear,” came Teagan’s voice from one of the pens in the back. In it, was a pregnant Mabari bitch, watching with great interest and wagging her tail as Alistair approached. Her belly was swollen, and she refrained from bounding up and down like the other hounds. Instead she stood perked up against the wooden wall watching Alistair with a wide doggy grin.

“Ah, puppies,” Alistair said happily, “I love puppies, especially when they are in that phase when their paws are too big for the rest of their bodies.” He made a padding motion in the air with his hands.   
“You know when they go all like, wop, wop, wop.” Teagan laughed at Alistair’s display.   
“Yes, puppies are great,” he chuckled.   
“What brings you to the kennels?” Alistair asked.   
“I was just checking on our girl here,” Teagan replied, “make sure she’s comfortable. It shouldn’t be long until she gives birth.”   
“Have the puppies already been promised?” Alistair asked.   
“No,” Teagan replied, “not until they are old enough to imprint. So what’s the King doing in the kennels?”   
“Looking for you, actually,” Alistair replied, “fancy a drink?”   
“Sure,” Teagan replied, and petted the pregnant dog’s head before following Alistair back to the royal wing.

“So why are you not tangled up between the sheets with your wife right now?” Teagan asked when they sat down in front of the hearth in Teagan’s sitting room.   
“She’s asleep,” Alistair replied, “like a log.” Teagan arched an eyebrow.   
“What did you do?”   
“Nothing,” Alistair replied with a shrug, “fell asleep on me on the sofa.”   
“Uh-huh,” Teagan replied, “so what were you doing? You can tell uncle Teagan.”

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair said, “we were just sitting on the sofa and I was holding her. You’ve been spending too much time with Zevran.” Teagan shrugged.   
“You’re newly married, and you were practically glued to each other before that anyway.”   
“Oh, don’t worry about that, there is a lot of gluing going on,” Alistair smirked.   
“That must be why she’s tired then,” Teagan replied, “mystery solved.”   
“You do realise I was just looking for a good conversation to fill my free time,” Alistair replied, “not looking for advice on my sleepy wife, she’s fine.”   
“Duly noted, but my assessment stands,” Teagan said formally and downed his brandy. Alistair chuckled and moved to refill Teagan’s cup.

“I imagine she is catching up on a year of constant sleep deprivation,” Alistair said absently.   
“Was it as bad as they say?” Teagan asked.   
“Worse,” Alistair replied, “she could barely get two or three hours of sleep before waking up screaming.”   
“Damn,” Teagan rumbled.   
“Yeah,” Alistair replied and drank the remaining contends of his cup before refilling it.

“She’s much better these days,” Alistair continued, “I think it’s because the Archdemon is dead.”   
“And Rendon Howe?” Teagan asked.   
“Him too, and Loghain, I imagine,” then Alistair chuckled, “seems that going on a killing spree also killed those demons.”   
“She has yet to find something she can’t kill,” Teagan mused.

“I don’t know about that,” Alistair replied, “she doesn’t solve everything by killing it.” Teagan chuckled.   
“No she beguiles everyone around her just as easily. She’s… very expressive, it’s easy to be taken in by that.”   
“It’s her charisma,” Alistair nodded, “most of the time she is not even consciously doing it.”

“How did your dining appointment with the Orlesian Wardens go,” Teagan asked, “did they have better manners than our last guests?”   
“Two out of three do, they keep the third in line. Fela doesn’t tolerate questions she doesn’t want to answer,” Alistair answered.   
“You did make that abundantly clear last time,” Teagan shrugged, “you can just kick these out too if they follow in their colleagues’ footsteps. Rightly so, I might add.”   
“I might,” Alistair smirked, “but I think we can work with these guys. We’ve already made some progress on manning the Vigil, that’s a lot more than what resulted from our talk with Coutreaux and le Goff.”   
“Be wary of them though,” Teagan advised, “just because they are prepared to play nice doesn’t mean they have changed their opinion of you.”   
“I know uncle, thank you,” Alistair replied with a grateful smile, welcoming the advice.

Alistair’s first months or rule had exceeded all expectations, he did well as King. People related to him because of his humble upbringing, they were awed by him, as a hero of the Fifth Blight. He ruled fair, working hard to rebuilt his country, and his easy manner made him well loved. And still, Alistair was never too proud to appreciate advice from his uncles.

He disregarded it on occasion, sure. And he may have cut them off every now and then, but he always considered their words. He never cut them off before they had spoken. He may be a bit of an unwilling monarch but he never shirked his duty. And Teagan could not be prouder of the young man who was now his King. And he came to have a drink with his uncle Teagan.

“Are you getting used to a life as a King yet?” Teagan asked.   
“What, after all that travelling around the country and sleeping in the dirt? Or after growing up in a Chantry cloister before being thrown into a _really_ nasty war?” Alistair asked coyly.

Teagan felt a pang of regret for the younger man, he had not been aware that the mud covered boy he met was banished to the kennels by Eamon’s new wife before being banished to the Chantry. And he resented both Eamon and Isolde for it, but Teagan was too loyal to his brother to admit that.

“Both?” Teagan replied.   
“I don’t know,” Alistair said, “I mean, I like the food and the well-tailored clothes, and the fresh featherbed I wake up in every morning. But now people walk on eggshells around me, and nearly all of them want something.”   
“People’s treatment of you is certainly different,” Teagan replied slyly, “even Isolde is kissing your ass nowadays.”   
“Yeah, I could really do without that,” Alistair sighed, “I miss the days when people thought I was just a… a guy, I guess, the one with the jokes. Now it’s like ‘ooh King Alistair, please like me,’ and ‘your Majesty this, and your Grace that,’ it’s awkward, you know, after being the ‘bastard boy’ for the first twenty-five years of my life.” Alistair accentuated his words by using voices and making dramatic hand gestures, causing Teagan to laugh and choke down a swallow of brandy.

“Miss the good old days hmm?” Teagan finally managed in a hoarse voice after a fit of coughing and snickering.   
“Well, maybe not exactly,” Alistair chuckled at Teagan’s reddened face, “I don’t miss people treating me like dirt, that’s for sure. It’s just that their attitude seems to have made a one-eighty, makes me suspicious.”   
“As well it should,” Teagan nodded, “there is much to gain by befriending a King.”   
“Besides his vast stock of fine cheeses you mean?” Alistair chuckled.

“No,” Teagan said thoughtfully, “I think some of them might actually be in it for the cheese.”   
“Oho, that’s great,” Alistair snickered, “I might make some friends after all.”   
“Don’t jinx it,” Teagan replied with a crooked grin.

“It’s not all bad,” Alistair said and leaned back in his chair, “people bring me food, I like food.”   
“I’d say you’ve earned that,” Teagan replied with a chuckle, “and it seems to be the only thing you ever ask for.”   
“Well I could ask for gold and jewels but I can’t eat those,” Alistair replied, “though I’m a sucker for good tailoring.” He straightened his coat and adjusted the collars as he spoke.

“And yet your wardrobe is modest compared to most nobles,” Teagan replied as he moved refill their cups.   
“I can hardly go on a shopping spree when half the country is in ruins, can I? I have better things to do,” Alistair replied with a shrug.   
“That might seem like common sense to you Alistair,” Teagan replied, “but sadly it is not to most nobles and monarchs.”   
“Well, then they shouldn’t be in charge of people’s well-being,” the young King answered, “at least do your duty before treating yourself.” Teagan chuckled.   
“Preaching to the choir.”   
“Glad we agree,” Alistair replied and they clinked their cups together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is part of the transition towards a new story. The Blight has been wrapped up, now we need a new goal. Which is, rebuilding the Grey Wardens so they can man the Vigil. From there, I'll make my way to Awakening. But not without a bunch of detours, if I really wanted to I could just skip ahead to Awakening. But that's not what I want to do with this character. I'm going off-canon like a jerk, <3
> 
> Kisses.


	68. Chapter 68

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela finally receives word from Weisshaupt, she's not happy about it. She discusses the message with Stroud and they make plans to start rebuilding with what they have. Doesn't go as planned though.

Fela was in a foul mood.

She had received an answer from Weisshaupt, and she wasn’t happy. It stated that the First Warden could spare no men to send to Ferelden, meaning she would have to depend on Orlais. She had gone looking for Stroud, to see how he would react to it.

She was pleasantly surprised when he frowned at it.   
“They are expecting us to start rebuilding with just the four of us?” he said while staring down at the letter, “five if we count your husband.”   
“It seems that way,” Fela replied, “I’m not leaving it at this, obviously, but correspondence is slow with Weisshaupt.” Stroud nodded.   
“It can’t be helped. We will just have to make new Grey Wardens.”   
“I haven’t actually recruited that many,” Fela answered with a frown, “we’ll have to start small.”   
“That might be a good thing, we could create a tight core and build around that,” Stroud replied. Fela nodded.   
“We could start in Denerim, we can move to Vigil’s Keep when we can actually man it.” Stroud gave her a nod but a brief pause on his part told her he had questions he wasn’t sure he should ask.

“How soon would you like to start with the Joining?”   
“Give me a week, I’ll take them hunting for darkspawn and filter out those who aren’t suited,” Fela replied.   
“I meant when would you like to start seeking out the people who have caught your eye?” Stroud said with a small smile, “we’re here to help, after all.”

Fela studied him for a moment, searching for his intentions. Stroud seemed content to let her, patiently waiting for her to reply.

“Meet me at the Market District at noon,” she finally said, “there is a pickpocket there I would like you to see.” Stroud smiled and bowed.   
“I’ll be there.” Fela returned the smile.   
“Dress inconspicuously, I need to keep a low profile or we’ll be speaking to nobles and rich merchants all day.” Stroud chuckled.   
“Well, we can’t be having that, now can we?” Fela shrugged.   
“It might actually attract our pickpocket now that I think about it.”

“Your Grace,” Stroud began, “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but there are several ingredients we’ll be needing for the Joining ritual. I was expecting to find them at the Denerim compound, but when I arrived, the stocks were empty.” Fela frowned and bit her lip.   
“I was afraid of that. Loghain must have raided it. I’m sorry, we had no way of knowing what was missing.” Stroud shook his head.   
“You are not to blame, Loghain had plenty of time to turn the place upside down during his short reign.” The younger Warden shook her head and cursed, running a hand through her hair.

“So,” Fela asked, “how badly does that set us back?”   
“That depends,” Stroud replied, “what did you do with the Archdemon’s remains?”

“We uh, pretty much took it apart, and stored it,” she said hesitantly, “it seemed like a waste to burn it.” She flashed an impish grin, like she had been caught at mischief. Stroud chuckled.   
“That’s actually the best thing you could have done.”   
“Really?” she asked with a chuckle of her own, “seemed morbid to me.”   
“Where is it?” Stroud asked, “we’ll need some of the Archdemon’s blood. The rest we can get via the Circle of Magi.”   
“Soldier’s Peak,” Fela replied, “I’ll send for it straight away. I can get you into contact with the First Enchanter, he should have access to whatever it is you need.”   
“Thank you, your Grace,” Stroud said, “that would be most helpful.”   
“You know what,” Fela said, “you can just call me Fela.” Stroud gave her a warm smile   
“Alright, thank you Fela, I will meet you at noon.” He excused himself after that and Fela set to writing her missives.

After that she went to find Alistair to let him know where she was going.

* * *

Fela slipped into Alistair’s office unnoticed, he was bowed over his desk writing what looked like a very long letter. He didn’t look up until she closed the door behind her and smiled.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of a daytime visit from my wife?” Fela smiled and crossed the room to lean over Alistair’s desk and kiss him.   
“I’m going to play outside today,” she said brightly.   
“Are you now?” he replied, “what’s the occasion?” Fela moved around the desk and leaned back against it.   
“Weisshaupt won’t be sending any Grey Wardens, they can’t spare the men. So we’ll have to make our own Grey Wardens and start from there, I’m going to show Stroud the pickpocket I’ve had my eye on.” Alistair frowned.   
“Weisshaupt can’t spare the men?” he asked, “they realise the Blight took place _here_ and not in the Anderfells, right?” Fela shrugged.   
“Yeah, I think the First Warden isn’t very pleased with us.”   
“Why? We did our jobs,” Alistair answered.   
“I have no idea,” Fela replied, “but they are not cooperating.” Alistair sighed.   
“What did we ever do to those guys?”   
“Who knows,” Fela answered, “I’ve been tripping over so many dicks I’ve lost track.” Alistair chuckled.   
“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Fela scowled at him playfully.   
“Well if they could stop measuring them, my job would get a lot easier.”

Alistair pulled her into his lap and she leaned in for a kiss, he teased her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and Fela parted her lips for him. Her hands found the top buttons of his shirt while roaming his chest, loosening them so she could get at his skin.

Alistair smiled against her lips, she was eager, running her fingertips along his collarbone. Alistair let one hand slide up Fela’s thigh, lifting her skirt to get at the sensitive skin and following the curve of her hip. She practically purred at the contact, pressing herself against him and tugging at his shirt to get better access.

“You know,” he whispered in between kisses, “I think it’s unfair, that you get to play outside while I, am stuck in here.”   
“It _is_ unfair, isn’t it,” she replied playfully, “all work and no play…”   
“I _want_ to play,” he whispered back.   
“I can help with that,” she answered and moved to kneel in front of him. Alistair cast a glance to the door and then back at Fela, who would be obscured by the desk if anyone should walk in.

Fela unfastened Alistair’s trousers with deft hands, pulling him free from his smalls and flicking her tongue against his tip. He let out a chuckle, running his fingers down her jawline. She smiled up at him while she kissed a trail of kisses along his shaft and coated his tip in saliva with her tongue. Alistair closed his eyes and leaned back while Fela played and teased with her tongue and lips. Her fingers teased their way up his thighs, kneading and massaging the well sculpted muscles before teasing his abdomen.

Alistair let out a groan when she sucked on his tip to slide her lips down his length. Her mouth was hot and slick around him, making him moan and sigh. He idly ran his fingers through her hair, thoroughly enjoying his wife’s attentions. He gathered up her hair in one of his hands to keep it out of her face when she started to bob her head, gripping the armrest of his chair with the other. He let himself get lost in the sensations she was eliciting, feeling his heart pick up in his chest and his breathing quicken. Fela didn’t let up, gripping his hips with her hands when he bucked. He let out another groan when she took in his full length, cursing under his breath. He threw his head back, drawing in a sharp breath through his teeth.

A sharp knock on the door jerked Alistair out of his bliss.

Before he realised what was happening, Fela had ducked under his desk and pulled his chair forward by the legs to hide his groin from view.

Alistair tried his best not to look like he got caught with his dick out and his wife under his desk, scooping up a piece of parchment to pretend he was reading it. Teagan walked in as Alistair was reaching for a quill, followed by Zevran. The elf took one look at Alistair’s flushed cheeks and his half unbuttoned shirt and gave him a wide smirk.

“Teagan, Zevran,” Alistair said as casually as he could manage, “what can I do for you?”   
“We have received a troubling report,” Teagan began, “there has been a series of break-ins in the city, and the city guard isn’t getting anywhere.”   
“So I’m supposed to solve crime now?” Alistair quipped.   
“Of course not,” Zevran replied with a chuckle, “but one of the nobles that has been hit has requested to hire me to find and kill the culprit.”   
“I am not sure I should be going along with that,” Alistair said with a frown, “we typically don’t execute people for burglary.”   
“Hence why we are here,” Zevran said and sat down in one of the chairs, “as of yet, I have not accepted any payments. Which leaves you, free to make a better offer.” The elf grinned widely when Alistair arched an eyebrow.

“A better offer? Zevran I can’t openly hire an assassin,” Alistair said, “it would make me look like I don’t trust my own city guards.”   
“That’s what I told him,” Teagan replied.   
“And that’s when I said I wouldn’t necessarily kill the target,” Zevran supplemented, “the crows have, on occasion, accepted contracts to deliver the mark alive. But he fee is much higher.” Alistair scowled at Zevran, who gave him a wide knowing smirk.

He sighed.   
“It’s still a poor gesture to towards the city guard.”   
“Yes, but it would show you do not tolerate criminals, I am a known Crow, after all,” Zevran said, “and, as I understand, your dear wife,” he paused meaningfully, “is looking for capable recruits, I imagine this burglar would possess certain skills that aren’t easily found.” Alistair considered that for a moment.   
“What if she doesn’t think this burglar is worth conscripting?”   
“Then you put him on trial and sentence him to whatever punishment you deem appropriate.”

Alistair thought it over a second time, it wasn’t a bad deal Zevran was proposing. He just really didn’t like the fact that the assassin was obviously aware of the situation Alistair currently found himself in and seemed to be hinting he might use that as leverage.

“I will have to think about it,” he finally said, fighting to keep a straight face when he felt Fela’s hand stroking up his thigh.   
“Was there anything else?” he said before Zevran could speak again and looked at Teagan, not waiting for the older man to speak.   
“no? good. I really need to get back to this… report, I was reading.”   
“Of course, your Majesty,” Zevran replied slyly, “I will await your decision.” Teagan gave a shrug and a nod and followed Zevran out of the room.

Alistair let out a deep sigh and moved his chair back to look at Fela, who stared up at him with eyes wide with laughter.

“That was an awkward situation you just put me in,” he said with a chuckle and pulled her back up into his lap. She giggled, almost girlishly, and kissed him, letting her hands roam his chest and shoulders.   
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she purred into his ear, “I thought you wanted to play.” She nipped at his earlobe and let one hand slide down his stomach to find him still hard.

“I think you still do,” she whispered and brushed her palm along his tip. She chuckled when Alistair gasped and tensed.   
“Do keep going, dear,” he whispered huskily, “better finish what you started.” She licked his neck in reply, teasing the sensitive skin with her teeth. Alistair tugged her skirt up, running his fingers along the inside of her thigh. She parted her legs willingly, gently sighing when his fingers reached her panties and brushed along her lips. The fabric was moist.

Suddenly Fela found herself lying on her back on top of Alistair’s desk, her skirts were around her waist and Alistair was tugging her panties aside. Somewhere an inkbottle shattered on the floor, but neither paid it any heed. Fela’s legs were on Alistair’s shoulders and his hands around her ass as he slid inside. Fela let out a groan, gripping the edge of the desk with her hands. The sound turned to moans and sighs when he started moving inside her.

She closed her eyes, moving her hips to meet his and match his rhythm. Revelling in how good he felt inside her, filling her, stroking that sweet spot deep inside. Alistair watched her face, her lips were slightly parted, her cheeks slightly flushed and her eyelids fluttered gently. She let out a high pitched moan when he pressed in deep, and whimpered when he pulled back. He moved her legs around his waist so he could lean down and kiss her.

She kissed him back eagerly, sucking his bottom lip between her teeth and nipping at it possessively. Alistair took her wrists to pin them to the desk above her head. Without her hands to anchor her, each thrust pushed her a little up across the desk. So Alistair moved one hand to pin her hips down too. She locked her legs around his lower back to pull him in deep, he obliged pressing further until he felt his pubic bone press against hers.

One of her wrists snaked out of his hold and she moved the free hand to wrap her arm around Alistair’s shoulders and press herself closer against him. He let go of her other wrist and hip to do the same, and hold her as close and tight as he could without making it hard for her to breathe.

Fela clung to him, her moans and cries getting more high pitched when he started moving again. He nuzzled her neck, letting out moans of his own. His breath on her skin and the sound of him in her ear send shivers down her spine. He fucked her until she shook and spasmed with pent up tension. She arched her back violently when she went over the edge, digging her fingernails into his shoulders.

Alistair didn’t let up, seeking his own peak and prolonging hers. He bit down on her shoulder, sinking his teeth into the smooth skin knowing he would leave marks. Fela cried out, but it sounded more of pleasure than pain. It brought Alistair to his climax, he growled while his cock throbbed with the orgasm. Spilling his seed deep inside her while she rippled and spasmed around him.

She sighed when he slowed to a stop, unwilling to let go of him. He chuckled and kissed the teeth marks on her shoulder, working his way along her neck, her jaw, and finally her mouth. She kissed him back lovingly, gentle and soft, running her fingers through his hair.

“I love you,” she whispered.   
“I love you too,” was his hazy reply before he gently untangled himself from her and sat back in his chair with a dreamy grin. He sat up in alarm when he heard Fela sniffle.

“Honey?” he stood to look into her face, “what’s wrong?”   
“I don’t know,” she sobbed helplessly, “I’m just… one minute I’m crazy horny and the next all I want to do is cry and then suddenly I’m totally fine again. I don’t know what’s going on.” Alistair helped her sit up and pulled her into his lap once more.   
“Hey now, it’s alright. Did I do something?”   
“No,” she whimpered and sniffled again while wiping her tears away with the back of her hand.   
“Are you hurt?” Alistair asked.   
“No,” she answered with another sob, “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m just… crazy.” Alistair chuckled.   
“Well we already knew that,” he said softly, “and you’re _my_ crazy.” Fela sniffled and leaned into his chest to let him comfort her.

“Maybe it’s just that I have a lot on my plate,” she sighed, “and everybody is leaving.”   
“Perhaps,” Alistair said, “if you wanted, you could delegate some of your duties to others.”   
“I’m not sure I want to do that, sends the wrong message,” she mumbled.   
“Well, you don’t have to tell people why you are delegating. They’ll conclude on their own that being Queen, Arlessa, and Warden Commander at the same time requires you to delegate and manage your duties,” Alistair said helpfully, “most people only do one at a time and they still delegate.” She hummed her agreement.

“And about our companions leaving,” he continued, “we always knew it would have to happen at some point. But that doesn’t mean you won’t ever see them again, they can visit. Or we could visit them, and you could write letters.” She nodded quietly and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.   
“You’re right,” she said, “I’ll be fine.”

“Hey honey,” Alistair asked, “when was the last time you… bled?” Fela’s face went blank for a moment, then she groaned.   
“I’m such an _idiot_.”   
“No, no,” he said quickly, “I didn’t mean it like that.”   
“I’m about three weeks late,” she said, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Alistair felt his heart do some elaborate gymnastics in his chest when Fela gave him a small, hopeful smile.

“Y-you think…” he began.   
“Wynne,” she supplemented, “we need to go see Wynne. Now.”

Alistair let out an elated laugh, and then kissed her, again and again until she was breathless. Then he stood, holding her in his arms and spun her around before setting her down. Fela was sobbing again, but this time because she was happy and hopeful.

“Three weeks late, even hungrier than usual, mood swings, you sleep nearly ten hours a day and you’re still tired,” Alistair summed up.   
“Yeah,” she chuckled in between sniffles, “no morning sickness though.”   
“It doesn’t always start right away,” Alistair replied, “it could still come later, if…”   
“If I’m pregnant,” Fela added.

As soon as the words left her mouth tears started streaming down her cheeks again. Alistair gently wiped them away with his thumbs and kissed her.

“I’ll send for Wynne,” Alistair said, “and I think I am cancelling both our appointments for the rest of the day.” Fela nodded.   
“Have someone tell Stroud our appointment will have to wait until tomorrow. The rest should be in my calendar.”   
“I’ll take care of it,” Alistair promised, “I’ll meet you in our chambers.” Another kiss before he let go to get his clothes in order, and he hurried off to find Teagan.

Fela took a moment to compose herself before leaving Alistair’s office, going through the symptoms of pregnancy in her head. Her stomach was still flat, but that was to be expected. Her breasts were tender and, as she weighed them in her hands, seemed heavier. She looked down appreciatively, wondering if they had gotten bigger. A last careful wipe of her face, and she left the office.

* * *

Alistair found Fela lounging on the sofa with her arms wrapped around the massive hound beside her. As usual, Asher was the little spoon. They both lifted their heads in his direction when he came in, which made him chuckle.

“Appointments have been cancelled and Wynne is being sent for,” he announced. Fela smiled.   
“Thank you.”   
“And lunch will be here soon,” he added with a grin, which Fela returned.  
“You're the best.”

She sat up, and Asher moved to a spot in the sunlight coming in from a window. Alistair patted Asher on his flank in passing before joining Fela on the sofa. She had changed into a close fitting tank top and loose pants, as was her custom at the end of the day. It was comfortable, and allowed for easier movement. The day wasn’t nearly at its end, but as far as Fela was concerned, hers was. She fell asleep on Alistair’s lap while they waited for their lunch, the smell of which, woke her before the servants even came in. Which Alistair thought was pretty funny until she pointed out he had awoken to the smell of food more than once. During the Blight, Alistair rarely needed to be woken in the morning, you just had to get breakfast going.

“So what did you tell Teagan?” Fela asked in between bites of some sort of cheese and vegetable pie.   
“Nothing,” Alistair said with a shrug, “he doesn’t need to know _everything_ about my personal affairs, and we’re not even sure yet. This isn’t the sort of thing you tell people about until you are _sure._ ” Fela nodded.   
“Agreed, let’s keep it between us and Wynne for now. No need for people to go all hysterical.”

By ‘people,’ Fela meant Isolde and a number of other nobles who would probably want a piece of it, which she wasn’t willing to give. And by ‘hysterical,’ she actually meant hysterical, because that’s what it was to her when women went into that baby frenzy where they get all giddy, try to touch the belly, speak in high-pitched tones and start gushing over tiny shoes and tiny socks and whatnot. The thought of people, anyone but Alistair really, reaching for her belly got her annoyed before it had even happened.

She might be liable to break a few fingers if someone tried as things stood, if she was actually carrying a baby she imagined herself much more defensive, and therefore aggressive, about her personal space. Maybe she would get there eventually but for now this was something she only wanted to share with Alistair. And Wynne, she supposed, but Wynne could be trusted to be discreet.

Alistair and Fela tried hard to keep each other occupied with idle conversation, but both could be caught glancing at the door every now and then. Anxious for Wynne’s arrival. Fela could tell Alistair was at least as anxious as she was. He had his hopes up, she observed, but he was hesitant to be too happy too soon. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, it bespoke the worry underneath.

They had expected to have trouble conceiving a child, because both of them were Grey Wardens. And neither of them knew what the Taint would do to an unborn child. Fela caught herself fidgeting with her wedding ring, twirling the gold band around her finger. The feeling of uncertainty tied her stomach in knots. She slipped her hand into Alistair’s for comfort, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. Both of them jumped to their feet when Wynne swept into the room.

“I got your message,” the elder mage said and looked at both of them curiously, “are you alright?”   
“Yeah,” Alistair said uncertainly, “but uhm, Fela has been experiencing some… things…”   
“You’ll need to tell me more than that dear,” she said warmly then turned to Fela expectantly.   
“I’m three weeks late on my cycle,” she began, but the elder mage caught on immediately. Her sky blue eyes twinkled knowingly and she smiled.   
“And?”   
“And I have a huge appetite,” Fela continued, “even for Grey Warden standards, and there have been these crazy mood swings, and I’m always tired,” she paused for a moment, “and my boobs hurt,” she added, shrugging at Wynne’s raised eyebrows.

“They do,” she said with a slight pout and cupped them in her hands, “they’re really tender.”   
“You could have just said your breasts are tender,” Wynne answered.   
“Got the point across, didn’t it?” Fela said playfully.   
“Have you experienced any morning sickness?” Wynne asked.   
“No,” Fela replied, “not yet anyway.”   
“And your cycle has been regular lately?” Wynne continued, and Fela nodded.

“Morning sickness commonly starts after about six weeks,” the mage said, “at most you would be around five now. So those numbers add up.”  
“Is there any way we can be sure?” Alistair asked.   
“There is a relatively simple method,” Wynne said, “I’ll need a urine sample from you, preferably the first urine of the day. Bring it to me tomorrow and you’ll know within about fifteen minutes.”   
“Could we… try it now?” Fela asked, “we can still try with the morning pee anyway.”   
“What’s the last time you urinated,” Wynne asked and Fela shrugged.   
“I don’t know, couple of hours? I only peed once today.” Wynne frowned.   
“You are obviously not drinking enough then, but it will do. The urine will probably be more concentrated.” Fela flashed a sheepish grin.   
“I’ll keep that in mind. Should I get a cup or something?”   
“A wineglass would be best,” Wynne said offhandedly and made her way to the wine cabinet.

Fela and Alistair both stared at Wynne with equal amounts of confusion.

“A wineglass,” Fela repeated.   
“Yes, dear,” Wynne said and pulled one from the cabinet, “and you are going to pee in it.”   
“Ok,” she replied, dragging out the first letter, “and then?”   
“We mix it with white wine and see if the colour changes,” Wynne replied, “it’s actually a pretty common method, and more reliable than you’d think if you know what to look for.”

Fela took the wineglass Wynne held out to her and made her way to the privy, contemplating how she was going to pee in the wineglass without making a mess of it. Meanwhile Alistair sank back on the sofa and let out a deep sigh.

“Nervous?” Wynne asked, though it was more of an observation.   
“Of course I’m nervous,” he said, “she might have a baby in her belly, _my_ baby.” The words tasted strange on his lips, _his_ baby. Wynne chuckled.   
“So tell me about these mood swings she mentioned.” Alistair turned red, the best example he could think of had taken place earlier that day and had led to them sending for Wynne.

“She uh… started crying… at a uh… at an _odd_ moment,” he stammered. Wynne grinned like the cat that swallowed the canary.   
“Why, what happened before she started crying?” Alistair cleared his throat and blushed an even deeper shade of red.   
“Come now dear,” Wynne said, “like I don’t know what you two get up to when you are left alone.”   
“She’s had quite an appetite lately,” Alistair finally said without meeting Wynne’s eyes, “came to my office to tell me she was going into Denerim, one thing led to another, and after she started crying.” Wynne rolled her eyes.

“Unfortunately I am aware she doesn’t usually do that.” Alistair gave her a lopsided grin.   
“It surprised me too. I’ve noticed her being distracted lately, but she tends to keep most of her crazy to herself.” Wynne nodded.   
“As we know her.”

“You two ought to be wary of my ‘crazy,’” Fela huffed when she came back into the room, holding a glass of urine and looking at it distastefully, “you’ll be receiving the brunt of it. Now let’s see if I get an excuse.” She handed the glass to Wynne who mixed one half pee and one half wine in a different glass and set it on the table.

“I suggest you go take a short walk,” Wynne said, “staring at it isn’t going to make this any easier for either of you.”   
“To the kitchens?” Alistair suggested, not lastly because food would probably pacify his wife, “maybe there’s cookies.” She shrugged.   
“I can do cookies,” she turned to Wynne, “want some?”   
“If they have them, please,” Wynne said warmly, “I’ll wait here.”

Fela whistled for Asher to follow and pulled on a loose robe to cover her arms and shoulders. The staff was used tot their Queen stalking through the halls barefoot wearing a sleeveless shirt and wide pants, but she liked the loose robes with wide sleeves that she could pull close around herself or let flutter around her. She liked how the fabric would caress her skin while she moved. Alistair offered her his arm, which she took with a smirk.

“Are you going to pamper me now?” she teased.   
“If you’re having my baby? Absolutely,” he replied and kissed her temple.   
“And if I’m not?” she asked more seriously.   
“Fela,” he replied after a brief pause, “I know you want this, I want it too. But if you’re not… that’s ok too. You know that, right?” She nodded, holding his arm a little tighter as they made their way through the halls to reach the kitchens.

While the staff was used to the regular surprise drop ins from their hungry royals, they still seemed to cower a little every time they walked in. As if they were afraid they had done something wrong. It made both Alistair and Fela think dark thoughts about these people’s former employers. Some had already been part of the castle staff under Anora and Cailan, others had come from various estates in and around the city. While Fela found it hard to believe Cailan had been cruel to his staff, she wasn’t so sure Anora was one to tolerate the occasional mistake. Or Loghain, for that matter. Most of the servants were elves, and many considered them lesser people. Which had bred an inane distrust for humans among elves, and Fela couldn’t say it wasn’t justified.

“Maia?” Fela called when she spotted an elven girl with bright red hair tied back in a long braid. The young cook turned and fell into a deep bow to both of them.   
“Your Grace, your Grace,” she said politely, “how may I help?” Fela chuckled.   
“We were hoping you had cookies,” she said with a sheepish grin. “Of course,” the girl said, turning big blue eyes on Fela and smiling warmly, “your Qunari friend asked me to see to it there would always be cookies available for you, he said you deserved it for slaying the Archdemon.” Fela laughed.   
“Oh, I love Sten,” she said, “he didn’t scare anybody too badly I hope, he can be a bit intimidating.” Maia’s eyes twinkled with mirth when she produced a bag of cookies from the pantry and she smiled widely at Fela.   
“Not at all, your Grace, your friend possesses a kindness that just isn’t easy to see.”   
“Indeed he does,” Fela said, “did I ever tell you about the time I caught him playing with a kitten?” Maia giggled and took the cookie Fela offered.   
“He did?”

Alistair watched the exchange with great interest, servants were rarely this relaxed in their presence. Fela nodded and leaned back against the counter next to the elven girl.

“It was the cutest thing,” she began, “this mountain of a man, squatting to tease a tiny black and white kitten with his forefinger.” She mimicked the motion with her own, like she was drawing circles on a little fluffy belly.   
“He even took out a piece of string for the kitty to chase around,” she looked at Alistair, “remember? It was in Redcliffe I think.” He smiled and nodded.   
“It’s a good thing he never saw us watching him,” Alistair said, “Sten is scary when he’s embarrassed.” Maia giggled at that, but covered her mouth with her hand self-consciously.

“He enjoyed playing with Asher too,” Fela continued nodding at the hound who was gnawing at a large bone Maia had given him, another thing that surprised Alistair. Most servants were afraid of the big scary Mabari, but not the bright eyed girl that was chatting up his wife.   
“I imagine your Mabari enjoyed that very much,” she said and patted Asher on his head while he chewed.

The hound didn’t even growl. Which made Alistair raise his eyebrows, no longer concealing his surprise. Asher had tried to bite off his hand once for coming to close to his food, and he was actually friends with the big goof.

“He did,” Fela said warmly, “you were best buddies, weren’t you?” she asked the dog who looked up with a wide doggy grin and wagged his tail.   
“I think it was the muscle to fat ratio they bonded over,” Alistair mused, “considering they are both walking chunks of muscle.”   
“I actually caught them in a growling contest once,” Fela said, “at camp.”   
“That sounds terrifying,” Alistair said dryly.   
“Sten did the same thing with Magnus, remember?” Fela chuckled.   
“Oh yeah,” Alistair said with a grin, “that was the most intense staring contest I have ever witnessed.”

Maia smiled pleasantly while she enjoyed her cookie, observing the Grey Wardens with interest. It was so much better to hear the actual stories from the Wardens themselves. Several other servants continued their duties quietly, no doubt listening to every word they said. Unfortunately that was a habit that had sprung from the need to anticipate whimsy nobles who might decide you deserved a beating for looking at them funny or breathing too loud.

Nonetheless, Fela and Alistair made an effort to show their staff they weren’t malicious or cruel. And eventually, maybe, they could earn their trust a little. But for now, all they could do was treat them fair and be polite. And a little effort to have a chat when you came looting the pantry for the five-hundredth time could go a long way. Plus, it made time pass a little easier.

Though Alistair could have sworn those were the longest fifteen minutes of his life.

The first thing Fela noticed when they returned to Wynne was that the contents of the wineglass were distinctly lighter. The next thing she noticed was Wynne’s bright smile.

Her hands fluttered to her belly unconsciously, making her drop the bag of cookies she had been holding.

“Does that mean…” Alistair stammered, not finding the words to finish the question. Wynne smiled even wider.   
“Congratulations, you are having a baby.” Alistair let out an elated laugh before picking Fela up in a bearhug and spinning her around.   
“We are having a baby,” he said when he set her down, cupping her face in his hands.   
“Yeah,” she said with a stunned grin, “we’re having a baby.” She could barely finish the last word before Alistair was kissing her, beside himself with happiness. Fela was still reeling a bit, coming to terms with the reality of it. She was going to be a mom.

_Holy shit I’m going to be a mom!_

Then the tears came, and she felt immeasurably and indescribably happy. She also felt like a slobbering mess, but this was commonly deemed appropriate for a newly pregnant lady so it was ok.

She would definitely have to delegate her duties now, no way she was going to keep up three fulltime jobs. No way Alistair would let her, or Wynne for that matter. If she thought she was being pampered now, she would soon be introduced to a whole new level of it. And she didn’t care one whit. She was having a baby, _Alistair’s baby._ Wynne had confirmed it, she was pregnant and whatever worry she had been lugging around was quickly forgotten when she saw the look on her husband’s face.

Alistair was practically beaming with happiness, looking at her adoringly while he let his hands slip around her waist.   
“You’re going to be a dad,” she said through the tears, her voice thick with emotion. He nodded, at a loss for words to express how he happy he was.

Wynne had slipped out to let them have a moment, they could speak about the upcoming months later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy fluff fluff, right? I hope you enjoyed it.


	69. 'Fade Human'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela speaks to Urthemiel and continues to rebuild the Grey Wardens now that they have recruits to train.

Urthemiel wore the widest grin when he greeted Fela in the Fade.

They were in the Highever gardens this time, a place familiar to the dream’s host. Lately, the scenery of Fela’s dreams was often Highever, her ancestral home. Urthemiel liked the gardens in particular, it had snapdragons and poppies in abundance. Covering most of the soil between bushes and trees. Fela had once pointed out how she liked the way even a bumblebee could crawl into a snapdragon’s mouth to get at the nectar. Completely hidden and safe inside the flower.

Apparently, fluffy butts were adorable. Even on insects. Urthemiel could see their appeal, a bumblebee looked soft because of its fluffiness and they wore bright colours on their plump little bodies that should have been too heavy to lift with their delicate wings. They were odd creatures, and Urthemiel decided he liked them. He liked the flowers too, the vast array of colours on the snapdragons and the vibrant red of the poppies.

But most of all, he liked the bright smile on Fela’s face when she ran up for a spontaneous hug.

“I have something to tell you,” she said breathlessly when he set her down after she had leapt into his arms.   
“Am I allowed to guess or should I wait for you to tell me?” he asked.   
“I want to tell you,” she replied with a chuckle and took a step back. Urthemiel gave a polite nod and waited for her to tell him what he had known long before she did.

“You’re going to be a big brother,” Fela beamed and pointed at her stomach. Urthemiel smiled even wider and pointed at her stomach too.   
“My sibling,” he said proudly, “can I touch you?” he asked.   
“Sure,” Fela said.

Obviously, a different set of rules applied to Urthemiel when it came to Fela’s personal space. She shared a different kind of bond with the Old God than she did with anyone beyond the Veil. It was comfortable, natural. Plus, he had the sensibility to ask. So when Urthemiel placed a hand on her abdomen as he kneeled in front of her, she smiled.

“It’s still so small,” he said, cocking his head to the side, “you still have a lot of growing to do.”   
“Are you addressing me or my stomach?” Fela quipped.   
“My sibling of course,” Urthemiel said, “though your stomach will be growing too I imagine.”   
“Not for a while yet,” Fela replied, “but eventually.”

Urthemiel softly patted her abdomen smiling at it as if he could see the embryo inside her.   
“It’s healthy,” he said and looked up at her, “you will have a strong child.”   
“I like to refer to my baby as ‘he,’” Fela said, “obviously we don’t know _if_ ‘he’s’ a he but ‘it’ sounds like we’re referring to an object, like I’m a growing plant or something.”   
“I see,” Urthemiel nodded, “you prefer to refer to my sibling as a person. Would you like me to refer to my sibling as ‘he’ from now on?”   
“It would be customary to do so, but from you, I don’t mind ‘it,’” she replied.   
“The child doesn’t have sexual organs yet,” Urthemiel said, “I think I will continue calling it ‘it’ for now.”   
“How do you know the baby doesn’t have any sexual organs yet?” Fela asked.   
“I can tell,” he said, “it’s still in very early stages.”

“Okay,” she dragged out the ‘o’, “is that because you have some general knowledge about pregnancy or because you can… I don’t know, _see_ it or something.”   
“Not seeing as you would with your eyes,” he replied, “but yes, in a way I see it.”   
“What else can you tell me?” Fela asked, curious as to how much Urthemiel knew.

“It’s heart is beating,” Urthemiel said, “it’s strong, a good heartbeat. Fast, like it should be. But it’s still _very_ small.”   
“My baby has a heartbeat?” she asked.   
“Yes,” Urthemiel nodded, “but you wouldn’t be able to tell.”   
“How can _you_ tell?” she asked, wondering how something that had barely started to form could already have a heartbeat. He looked up at her,   
“Old God privileges?” he offered. Meaning he didn’t know how he knew, he just did. Fela trusted him at his word, so she let go of her questions and smiled.   
“Let’s keep it at that.” Urthemiel returned the smile and shifted his gaze back to her stomach.   
“I can tell it’s healthy,” he said softly, “that is good.”

“Can you also tell if it bears the Taint?” Fela asked hesitantly.   
“I can,” he said with a nod, “it shares it with you.”

Fela felt like her heart dropped out of her chest and landed on her feet with a wet splat. Her baby carried the Taint. Her breathing started to come in short gasps while her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Urthemiel rose, noticing the immediate distress and taking her face in his hands.

“Calm breaths,” he said softly, “your baby is healthy.” How could it? The Taint was a death sentence, even if it survived, the child wouldn’t live beyond thirty. _Oh Maker_ what if it came out deformed?   
“Hush,” Urthemiel said, “look at me, good, now listen, _your baby is healthy._ ”   
“You- you said-” she couldn’t get the words out. They got her tongue twisted while she struggled to keep her breathing under control.   
“It shares your blood,” Urthemiel said, “the baby is fine, healthy.” Fela blinked a few times, the words didn’t make sense. Was she hearing him right? She didn’t understand, because of her Tainted blood, the child carried it too. Did Urthemiel have a different definition of ‘fine’ and ‘healthy?’ Did he not understand what the Taint _did_?

“Start explaining,” she croaked and lifted her hands to his to grip them tightly.   
“The baby shares your blood. _Your,_ blood. The Taint isn’t killing you,” he said, “your body doesn’t attack it, so it doesn’t have to fight back, do you understand?”   
“Not one bit,” she said through deep breaths.   
“The Taint isn’t killing you, because your body isn’t fighting it,” he repeated.   
“That is a big fat glaring contradiction right there!” she snapped.

“No,” Urthemiel shook his head, “the Taint, it seeks to exist. But most bodies react to it like it’s a disease, so it has to fight back to continue to exist, damaging it’s host in the process and resulting in changes resembling ghouls. The song they hear, the nervous tics, and blotchy skin, all a result of the Taint fighting to exist. But _you_ , you took it within yourself and made it yours, it doesn’t need to fight you, so it doesn’t damage you. Your baby shares your blood, the blood in which it can exist indefinitely. _Because_ your baby shares your blood, it is healthy. Fela, your baby is fine. It’s perfect.”

She would probably never admit it, but she was having serious problems processing that information. Urthemiel’s reasoning went against the seemingly _glaring_ logic of the first thing she was taught about the Taint; the Taint killed and destroyed everything it touched. There was absolutely not a single example of the Taint not killing something. It’s how you knew it was there.

“The Taint, is a force of ruin,” she whispered hoarsely, “it ruins _everything_ it touches.” Urthemiel shook his head.   
“Not everything.”   
“So what?” she asked, “darkspawn, Blight disease, the fact that Grey Wardens eventually succumb to it and die, those are all just examples of the Taint gone wrong?”   
“No, it’s not like that, it’s…” Urthemiel made a vague gesture, “it’s _you._ ”   
“Me,” she said flatly.   
“You,” he said with a nod, “your body responds differently to the Taint, you already knew that.”   
“How do _you_ know?”   
“Because I can see,” he said impatiently, “now listen, your body has adopted the Taint in such a way that it can coexist with you. That way, you don’t suffer the negative effects. But there are positive ones, right? You’re stronger, faster, your reflexes are better. All Grey Wardens experience this, correct? But there is a difference between you and the other Grey Wardens, for you, the Taint is not degenerative, it is the exact _opposite_.”   
“It’s _what?_ ” she hissed.   
“The Taint never corrupted you, it made you _more_ ,” Urthemiel said, “your senses are sharper, your body stronger, your mind has expanded.”

Fela closed her eyes, she needed to let go of the notion that the Taint was evil for a moment. If it was a force of ruin, right and wrong didn’t apply to it. It wasn’t evil, nor was it good. It was neither of those things. It just was. It was logical to think of it as evil because it manifested itself in a way that caused death and destruction. But at it’s core, the Taint was just another one of the pillars of existence. And apparently it could exist within her.

“So the baby is healthy,” she said slowly.   
“Yes,” Urthemiel nodded, “because the child is of your flesh and blood.”   
“Will it affect the baby?” she asked.   
“In what way?” Urthemiel asked.   
“Any way,” Fela shrugged.   
“The child will most likely be like you,” Urthemiel said.   
“As in, it might be born with the same sight?” she asked to clarify.   
“Possibly,” he said, “but I was referring to physical traits, like strength and speed.”   
“And their life expectancy?”   
“Normal, like I said, the Taint isn’t degenerative for you, neither is it for the child.”   
“What about fertility?”   
“Also normal, it will be a normal, human child.”   
“But more…”   
“Yes.”   
“Like me…”   
“Yes.”   
“Will it have nightmares about darkspawn like I did?”   
“No, no more than any child does.”

Fela slowly nodded, letting out a deep breath. The baby was fine, Urthemiel was giving her _good_ news. She needed to remember that.

“I’m sorry I frightened you,” Urthemiel said softly, “I didn’t realise the impact of my words.”   
“You meant well,” Fela replied, “I may have overreacted.” Urthemiel shook his head.   
“No, I should have realised you would assume the Taint would be lethal to the child. It is to most things.”   
“But not me,” Fela answered.   
“Correct,” Urthemiel replied with a nod.   
“Do you know why?” she asked. He shook his head.

“I can see what is happening, but beyond that I can only guess. If I had known you before you submitted yourself to the Taint, maybe I could have deduced why the Taint affects you as it does. But as it is, all I know, is that you somehow managed to connect and accommodate.”   
“So… am I an instrument of ruin or what? Do I bring death and destruction? Is that why the Taint doesn’t kill me?” Urthemiel shook his head again.   
“No, I don’t believe so.”   
“Are you sure? I did bring a lot of death and destruction during the Blight.”   
“Not nearly as much as you could have, and as a result, you’ve saved countless lives. You did what was necessary, no more.”   
“What am I then?”   
“You’re _you._ ”

She thought of her name then, and the secrets within. All she was, was in her name right? Her true name. Urthemiel knew her name, so he would know, wouldn’t he? She didn’t feel like an instrument of ruin, nothing was compelling her to do anything that would lead to death and destruction unnecessarily. She was herself.

“It’s Old God logic,” she finally sighed in relief, “I just need a minute to get my head around it.”   
“Your ability to connect, is not limited to people,” Urthemiel said, “perhaps that is what allows the Taint to reside within you.”   
“Maybe,” she replied, “though I’m not sure what else I would be connecting with.”   
“The Fade, for one,” he replied, “you draw upon it when you use your sight, you were drawing from it when you were fighting me.”   
“I was?”   
“Yes,” he nodded.   
“It didn’t feel like I was.”   
“You don’t do it consciously, it just happens. Like your heartbeat happens, you don’t do that consciously either.”   
“Okay, so I have a stronger connection to the Fade…” she surmised, “I think I might have always had it. I could see into people before I underwent the Joining.”   
“It’s possible this is why the Taint can coexist with you,” Urthemiel said, “perhaps your body recognises something in it, allowing you to make it your own.”   
“And the baby is the same,” she answered, “because it is of my flesh and blood.”   
“Correct,” Urthemiel nodded.

She let out a sigh.   
“Thank you.”   
“For what?” he asked.   
“For telling me,” Fela clarified, “you scared the crap out of me, but it would have come up sooner or later.”   
“So it helped?” Urthemiel asked, looking a little shy.   
“It did,” she replied, “now I know the baby is ok, I don’t need to worry about how the Taint affects it anymore.” He smiled.   
“I’m glad.”

“And you’ve helped me understand more about myself as well,” she grinned, “now I at least know what I’m talking about when I call myself a weirdo.”   
“Why would you call yourself a weirdo,” Urthemiel asked with a chuckle.   
“I’m starting a new race of Fade humans here,” Fela replied with a lopsided grin, “I’d say that makes me pretty weird.”   
“Fade humans actually sounds good,” Urthemiel said and looked down at Fela’s stomach, “that’s what we’ll call you, a Fade human.”   
“Awesome, now it has a name,” she replied, “temporarily at least,” she added while patting her belly.   
“Fade human,” Urthemiel chuckled, “that works.”

“Let’s talk baby names,” Fela said brightly and hooked her arm around Urthemiel’s as she started walking the gardens.   
“You mean possible names to give the child when it’s born?” Urthemiel asked to clarify. Fela nodded and Urthemiel gave her a thoughtful look.   
“I like Luminita.”   
“Luminita, really?”   
“Don’t you?”   
“No.”   
“How about Alana?”   
“Ooh, I like Alana.”

* * *

Fela awoke tangled in… husband.

Ever since they were certain she was pregnant he seemed dead set on wrapping himself around her as if to shield her from an enemy while they slept. More and more often, she awoke to find herself in some sort of sleepy headlock. Usually, it was the other way around. While it was endearing, Fela found she didn’t like being on the receiving end of it much when she needed to pee in the early morning. Her belly hadn’t even started to swell yet, and already her visits to the privy had doubled.

She tried to slip out from under Alistair’s arm, but it only made him reposition it so he could continue to hold her. Fela sighed.

“Alistair,” she whispered, “I need to pee.” He mumbled a sleepy reply, but didn’t move to release her.   
“Alistair,” she whispered a little harsher than she meant to. But he didn’t respond, she wriggled free from his grasp with a few curses, and maybe a not so accidental kick to his shins. He simply turned around and started snoring, the man slept like a log.

Fela rolled her eyes and stepped out of bed only to nearly trip over Asher who slept on the floor next to her side of the bed. She cursed some more, apologised to her dog, and hurried off to the privy.

Asher had taken her spot when she returned, giving her big puppy eyes. She relented with an annoyed grunt and walked around the bed to crawl in on Alistair’s side. He was practically on her side anyway, plenty of space on his. This however, resulted in a big sleepy bear hug, once again pinning her down. All this love made her cranky.

She pried herself free from Alistair once more, plucked a pillow off the bed, yanked off a blanket, and stalked into the sitting room where she nestled onto the sofa. She had draped the blanket over her head and shoulders and curled into a ball, nice and protected, but alone. Hidden, and, more importantly, free to move if she wanted to. That is, until Asher snuggled up to her.

Admittedly, she was annoyed, but it was hard to be angry at her boys for wanting to protect her while she slept. She was all too aware she had been exceptionally moody, that wasn’t their fault. She sighed and sat up again.

“How about a walk huh? I’m not going to do much more sleeping anyway.” Asher wagged his tail, but didn’t sit up excitedly like he usually would, apparently checking if his mistress was really up for it or not.

The dog had understood perfectly when Wynne had confirmed her pregnancy, and he had gone full on body guard, nanny, and midwife. He wouldn’t let Fela go anywhere on her own, though she suspected Alistair had something to do with that. She was fine with that, Asher was practically her shadow already anyway, but she didn’t miss the way the hound seemed to be watching her for any signs of discomfort or distress. She had no doubt he would be running to get Alistair if something seemed wrong. Just as well, if there really was something wrong she wanted him with her.

Fela patted Asher’s head before standing up to get dressed. Scant minutes later she was dressed and armed, slipping out into the hallway with Asher on her heels after snatching two apples from a bowl that seemed to hold an endless supply. She bid good morning to the few people she met in passing, heading for the goat pen near the stables and the kennels while she ate one of the apples. There she could check on the new born puppies, and say hi to her horse.

She wouldn’t be doing much riding in the near future, but that didn’t mean she would neglect the animal. Besides, she would be fit to ride for a while yet. A good rider maintained a bond with the horse, and the Ferelden Trotters were clever horses. Much like Mabari, they understood and executed complex orders easily and were famed for their speed and stamina.

Fela’s Trotter was the one she had ridden during the battle of Denerim, when they were charging through the horde to reach the city. It had been one of Eamon’s, but he had given it to her freely after the Blight. It had seemed appropriate to him that a horse and rider stayed together after surviving such an ordeal. So, Feyder had stayed in Denerim.

He was young, about four years old and had not yet reached full maturity, so his coat was still dark. It would fade to grey, and eventually white with age. Normally a horse this young would still be training for carrying a rider on its back. But Ferelden Trotters could be seen appearing on racetracks and battlefields as early as two years old. Had Fela been a large man wearing plate armor like Alistair, who could only be safely carried by fully matured horses, Feyder would likely have sustained damage to his joints and vertebrae during the march.

But she wasn’t. And while he was still at a tender age, he was more than strong enough to carry her for long periods of time. Ferelden Trotters usually worked their way up to the heavier riders, starting with lightweights like scouts, and coincidentally, Fela. The majority of soldiers, scout or no, were men, who tended to be a lot heavier than a woman of Fela’s delicate posture. Never mind the difference in choice of armor.

So giving her a younger horse had made sense when they were scrambling to get enough mounts for their army. On top of that, she was a more than experienced rider, and Feyder was a feisty young stallion. Which meant he wasn’t a good fit for most, if you wanted him to partake in charging a city.

He had actually thrown Alistair once when she tried to teach him how to calm and handle a wild thing like Feyder. And that had been in a calm training yard, rather than a messy and chaotic battlefield full of screams and noise. Afterward the horse had nuzzled Alistair a bit, as if to apologise. Fela had developed a close bond with the animal, and it had sensed her disappointment in him. She had forgiven him of course, he was young, still going through the horse version of puberty. Fela couldn’t expect him to have perfect control over his temper.

Feyder whinnied when he sensed her coming, sticking his long neck over the wooden divider of his box to watch the entrance of the stables. He trampled the ground excitedly when he saw her, Asher bounding up to greet him.   
“Hey, buddy,” she cooed, “happy to see us?” She stroked his long graceful neck gently while she let him sniff her, Feyder’s greetings always involved a vigorous sniffing. She could have sworn Asher taught him that. Feyder gently nuzzled the side of her head, which Fela counted as the horse version of a hug. Asher barked, drawing Feyder’s attention back to him. The horse looked down at the dog and twitched his ears, as if to ask what he wanted. Asher gave him a big doggy grin in return, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“Feel like stretching your legs?” she asked and opened the door to let the Trotter out. He moved towards the beams that supported tacks and saddles, looking at Fela questioningly when she didn’t follow.   
“Not today,” she said, “come on.”

Feyder and Asher both followed her out and into the training yard reserved for training the horses and new riders. Feyder trotted into a relaxed gallop and rounded the yard, with Asher happily padding beside the horse. Fela smiled as she watched him move, flexing muscles under a smooth coat. It made her want to run too. But she wouldn’t keep up with the four footers for long. Not even with her Grey Warden speed and stamina, or the other things that made her just a little faster and stronger than others. She packed a lot of strength in those long, delicate limbs.

A small fist allows for a more concentrated blow, she figured, so long as it was hard enough. Being hit in the ribs from a blow by a large fist was easier to withstand than one with the same force but in a much smaller fist. She could break single ribs if she could get the aim and opportunity. Whereas Alistair was more likely to bruise and crack several if he used the same amount of force she did.

Of course, he was also a lot stronger so he could still smash ribs. But her reasoning stood, her smaller fists allowed for more accuracy and thus equally damaging blows. Breaking bones was more effective than bruising and cracking them, and Fela was more than a little quicker than most. Not that she made a specific study out of breaking bones, but knowledge is power, as they say.

After Feyder had warmed up enough, she called him. He trotted up obediently and allowed her to get behind him to run and leap up his back, planting her hands on his butt and using the momentum to hop on. There was something intimate about riding bareback, Feyder would have to be more careful with her. If he wanted to work up speed, he would have to do it slowly so as not to accidently cause her to fall off by dashing forward. It was the perfect way to warm the little hothead up to sprinting, it demanded control and discipline to do it right. And Feyder was ever eager to do it right.

But Fela had different plans today, putting far more trust in the young horse than one might have expected. They were going to run an agility track.

This may seem like a stupid thing to do for a pregnant lady, were it not that they had actually successfully done this before. And not just on the battlefield, though he had been saddled then, but there was no darkspawn army now and Fela wouldn’t be cutting anything down. She wanted to enjoy being able to ride while she still could. On top of that it was a good bonding experience, they needed to move as one during this exercise.

Once they were off, Fela told Feyder what to do through whispers and nudges, shifting her weight to tell him where to go. The Trotter picked up speed, letting his momentum build while he sped towards the first set of beams. Fela pressed herself against his back when he jumped, following the momentum of the drop as they cleared the beams and Feyder’s hooves touched the ground. He took the next two jumps easily, reigning in his speed to zig zag through a series of wooden posts. Then they were off again, building speed and preparing for the next jump.

Meanwhile Asher padded along with them, happy to run the horse’s agility track, just for fun. His was a tad more challenging, dogs possessed a much finer dexterity, but Asher still thought it was great fun. And he wholly expected a treat afterward.

They cleared the track with a long jump across a small pond. It was actually only about an inch deep so a failed jump wouldn’t injure the horse, but it looked like one and Feyder leapt across it like it was a bottomless pit. Proudly swaying his head when they came to a stop. Fela thoroughly complimented both animals before giving them both a treat, hence the second apple. They did a few more laps after that, to let Feyder cool off properly before returning him to his box in the stable.

The puppy visit was next, and they were greeted by a cacophony of enthusiastic little barks and squeals. The mother wasn’t letting anyone near them yet, so Fela settled for leaning on the wooden divider that kept the puppies in. Asher did the same, putting his front paws on the beam that currently supported Fela’s elbows, wagging his tail so vigorously it made his butt move with it. The pups soon went back to feeding after checking out their visitors, creating a puppy pile at their mom’s belly.

“Hey girl, how are you doing?” Fela cooed at the hound that was keeping a keen eye on her.   
“You made yourself a bunch of pretty puppies, didn’t you? I should take pointers from you, I suppose. You made eight, I’m only making one.”

The hound gave a sigh in reply, as if to say making eight was indeed quite tiring. Fela chuckled, content to watch the pups from a bit of a distance. She knew better than to get between a Mabari mother and her pups. As long as she didn’t enter the pen, the hound was fine with it, but that was the line.

She wondered if dogs got moody during pregnancy too, she had never really payed attention to that sort of thing before. She could tell that the dog was tired, that’s for sure. It reminded her of how tired Fergus and Oriana had looked when Oren was a new born. Oriana had insisted on caring for her own child, rather than to let a wet nurse take care of her baby, and Fergus had joined his wife in the care for their son. Their parents had done the same thing for them.

Fela had long since decided that she would do the same if she ever had a child, it seemed unnatural to her to hand her baby off to some stranger, in fact, she didn’t like the idea one bit. Noting she felt rather strongly about that. She agreed with the dog, nobody gets near the pups until she said so. Though Fela would have Alistair, whereas the Mabari did it all on her own. She smiled unconsciously as she imagined him holding their baby, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. She could see him going all papa bear, with a protector like him, she knew for a fact the child couldn’t be safer.

And so Fela returned to their chambers in a much better mood, hoping to find Alistair still sleeping so she could crawl back into bed with him. She was disappointed when she found him getting dressed.

“There you are,” he said, pulling her in for a kiss when she got close enough, “where did you run off to?”   
“Just a little walk with Asher, checking on Mitsy and Feyder,” she replied while wrapping her arms around his neck, “and to see the puppies,” she admitted with a sheepish grin.   
“Well everybody loves puppies,” Alistair replied as he wrapped both his hands around her waist, “is the mother letting anyone near yet?”   
“No,” she answered, “but they’re still cute to watch.” She kissed him again, soft and tender, letting one of her hands wander under his shirt where the buttons were still loose.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, leaning into his chest. Alistair smiled, the hormones were driving her positively crazy, crazier than normal, but it led to heartfelt declarations of love like these pretty often.

Fela’s kind of crazy made her a bit clingy, she was constantly all over him if she wasn’t cranky. And her crankiness was rarely directed at him, as she sought him out for comfort. Alistair decided he didn’t mind Fela’s pregnancy crazy much, this side of her was mostly just endearing to him. All he had to do was be her rock, and he didn’t mind that one bit. Her inane tendency to spend time alone allowed him to do the same, so if she was more needy than usual it wasn’t a big deal to him. It actually made him feel rather special, even though he was already the father and her husband.

Come to think of it, the pregnancy was making him a little crazy too. He felt a staggering need to protect and take care of her. And her neediness allowed him to do just that. It made it easier to endure rants about how the smell of someone’s perfume made her sick, literally. The morning sickness and strong aversions to particular kinds of food and smells had come scant days after Wynne confirmed what Alistair had suspected for a few days before it even came up.

Mostly because of her breasts, they had already been notably bigger by then. He wasn’t ashamed of that, he knew her body, so he noticed, as well he should. Then he counted back the weeks since her last moon, and the pieces fell into place. Horny, moody, hungry, sleepy, bigger boobs and no moon. He’d been a little afraid to believe it at first, he had not expected it to happen so soon, or so easily for that matter. It had been just a little over seven months since she killed the Archdemon and stopped taking the contraceptives. Considering her cycle needed time to go back to normal and the fact that they both carried the Taint, it was actually pretty quick.

The kiss slowly grew in intensity, and she started to press herself against him. Then her stomach growled, loudly, making Alistair chuckle and break the kiss. She tried to pout but a smile messed it up.   
“Come on, let’s eat,” Alistair said after kissing her forehead and squeezing her butt. He quickly finished dressing and left for the dining hall.

* * *

Fela met Stroud and Fabliaux in the training yard at the Grey Warden compound in Denerim.

They watched Germain during his drill of the new recruits. As of yet, there were only a few. There was a female warrior, Ser Mhairi, the pickpocket Fela had recruited with Stroud, Daeharice Tabris, though he preferred Dan or Danny. Then there was the elven spy that had been in Eamon’s service, Daena, a knight from Gwaren who had earned something of a reputation in the battle of Denerim, ser Roland Mac Loughlin, who much preferred to be called Rory instead.

Four in total, Mhairi, Dan, Daena, and Rory. Between the four of them, they had a variety of skills, lockpicking, stealth, strength, speed, cunning, some measure of first aid, and more. Before conscripting Nate out of her own dungeon, she wanted to have some kind of core to work with. And for the most part, they got along well enough. But Dan and Daena were not used to fighting alongside warriors, or anyone else for that matter. Both tended to work alone in cities and estates, a battlefield was something new to them. Mhairi and Rory, on their parts, were used to fighting alongside other warriors, but not rogues. So Germain worked on team related strategy, Fabliaux trained the rogues and Stroud trained the warriors.

Now that things were moving along, Germain had resolved to maintain a certain level of civility, meaning he masked his dislike of the Ferelden Commander a bit better. Fela didn’t care, so long as they could work together on rebuilding the Order. She didn’t need, or want, him to like her. She got on with Stroud and Fabliaux well enough, they were on a first name basis in private. But in front of the recruits they addressed her as either Commander or your Grace.

Both were fine, it depended on the matter whether they were addressing Warden Commander Fela Theirin, or the Queen of Ferelden. If it confused anyone, it wouldn’t be difficult to figure out she was both. All they had to do was ask any Denerim citizen. Also, Mhairi seemed to idolise her a bit and Dan had been there when she and Alistair swept through the Alienage, taking out ogres and an emissary general. Daena had met her in Redcliffe, and Rory had fought in the battle of Denerim in the army she commanded.

They knew who she was, and she made an effort to know them.

Mhairi loved tales about heroes, Kings, nobles, and epic battles against an evil foe, in secret she was a bit of a bookworm, though most of her time was spent in a training yard, destroying some poor dummy. Dan’s fingers twitched every time he saw something shiny, had a weak spot for nearly all animals, and his mind was nearly as dirty as Zevran’s. Daena she already knew, the tough as nails informant who busted out of Howe’s dungeon to make it to Redcliffe after withstanding torture for months on end.

Her daughter lived with a good friend of hers in back in Redcliffe. She could have lived a quiet live with her daughter, but Daena felt she needed to repay Fela for helping her after she had come back to Redcliffe wounded and pregnant. So there she was, she had pledged her loyalty to the Grey Warden she met during the Blight, who had held her down and whispered soothing words while the elderly mage took care of an infection in her thigh. The Grey Warden who had payed for her living expenses during her pregnancy and was still continuing to do so. Fela was glad, although she never would have asked it of Daena, having her as a Grey Warden recruit was a great asset.

And then there was Rory, he was the reason Eamon had survived the battle of Denerim, by swinging his great-axe upward into an ogre’s groin before it could stomp Eamon into noble jelly. Which he, and Fela, found hilarious. Even better that it had been the reason for his reputation as the Arl’s timely saviour, though the Arl himself usually left out the bit where he had a perfect view of the axe cleaving the ogre’s ball sack.

A shared, disturbed sense of humour was as good a trait to bond over as any. The more violent the better. But he was a good guy at heart, before violence got funny to Rory, you really had to fuck up monumentally. Darkspawn, did that by default, so an ogre bleeding out through his nuts was funny. Innocent people and soldiers getting stomped into the ground and crushed by that ogre wasn’t. Simple.

Aside from these four, Fela planned on making a trip to the Circle Tower to conscript a certain mage with a love for the outdoors she had met there. There was also a newly harrowed mage Wynne had said might be a good fit, Juno Amell, who was apparently especially gifted in elemental magic. Which meant lots of fire, lightning, ice, and destruction. Fela liked.

Wynne had described the girl as stubborn, but fiercely loyal and having a good heart. But Fela needed to see the young mage for herself first, she would know when she saw her. If all went as Fela hoped, that would bring the total to seven recruits. Which she thought was a pretty good number to start with. Wynne was to accompany her on the journey, as were Stroud and Zevran. The latter because he wanted to be by her side, though if he was asked, he would say it benefitted his business. And Warden Queens make for _good_ business. Fabliaux and Germain would remain to continue training the recruits.

And Alistair, was unhappy.

Unhappy that his _pregnant_ wife was going to be on the road again, and possibly fighting, since she refused to travel with a full guard. Unhappy that he couldn’t be there to protect her, that something might happen to her or the baby and that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. No, Alistair didn’t like it one bit. While Fela was still experiencing a lot of morning sickness, she was still capable of travel. And he knew she could fight if she needed to, and hard.

Hell, she could probably still carve up a band of darkspawn when she was near the end of her third trimester, if she got mad enough. Which she didn’t have any problem with lately. But that didn’t ease the gnawing feeling in his stomach, every instinct was screaming at him that he needed to be with her, to protect his baby and its mother. But Fela was adamant, she was going to the Circle Tower, with only Zevran, Wynne, Stroud, and Asher, and Alistair would stay in Denerim.

A smaller group made for faster travel, that way she would be back long before she got too big to travel. The sooner it was done, the better. Alistair saw the logic in that, if he insisted on coming along, there was no way they could travel without a whole caravan of guards, servants, and wagons full of useless crap. It would take more than a month to make the journey that way, and then she would probably still be fine to travel but it was wildly unpractical. Alistair was needed in Denerim, and the entourage that would probably be following in the caravan was needed there too. And Fela simply didn’t want to waste another month before putting her recruits through the Joining.

After the drill, Fela made her way towards the recruits and Germain, Asher, Stroud, and Fabliaux following in her wake.   
“Warden Germain,” she said in polite greeting, which he returned with a nod, “I see you are making headway on paired combat.” He nodded again.   
“These are promising recruits, Commander, you chose well.” Fela smiled, “Warden Stroud has given me solid advice,” she replied and looked back over her shoulder at the man with the moustache. He flashed a grin and bowed in acknowledgement of the compliment. Fela turned to the new recruits, who were currently wiping sweat of their brows and quenching their thirst with large amounts of water.

“So, which one of you is up for a duel?” she asked, making Rory choke on his water, “I want to see what you can _really_ do.” The recruits stared at her in disbelief, except Rory, who was still coughing.   
“A- against you?” Mhairi asked, and Fela nodded.   
“Don’t be shy,” she said sweetly, challenging the recruits, “I’ll forego one rapier.”   
“But what if-” Mhairi began but Fela cut her off.   
“You hurt me?” she smiled, “if you can manage that, you’ll have earned it.” They shuffled uncertainly, Rory had finally caught his breath and looked at her with wide excited eyes.

“I’m game!” he said and gave Fela a deep, if slightly mocking, bow.   
“Commander Theirin, I hereby challenge you to a duel,” he said solemnly, “a friendly one,” he added with a wink.   
“What are you doing!?” Mhairi hissed. Rory turned to face her, his face still slightly puffy from his coughing fit.   
“What? It’s not like we’re going to fight to the death, and it’s great practice!”   
“He has a point,” Daena said, sizing Fela up with a keen eye.   
“See?” Rory said, “besides, this is a friendly duel, and how often do you get to fight a _legend_?”   
“Easy there, fanboy,” Fela quipped, “to become a legend, I need to die first.”   
“Living legend?” he opted.   
“No,” she replied.   
“As you wish, Commander,” he replied smoothly, “so, about foregoing one rapier?”

Fela unsheathed one with a smile, handing it to Stroud. Then she continued to unsheathe the daggers on her forearms, both her boot knives, another knife strapped to her thigh under her pants, a small knife from a hidden pocket along her collarbone, and the last from what appeared the be a sheath worked in with her leather cuirass on her lower back.

“Seven!?” Dan laughed, “you have _seven_ hidden blades on your person!?”   
“Most of the time,” she said offhandedly. Asher flopped down next to Stroud as she turned to put some distance between them when she heard Mhairi mumble.   
“Well, this _is_ the person who fought a war during a Blight.”

Fela ignored the comment. Taking her single rapier in her right hand, she was known to be ambidextrous, but people often forgot that when she wielded only one weapon. And most people’s sword arm was their right. No need to point it out, they needed to learn to size up their opponents. And a real opponent wouldn’t make it easy either. Rory looked at the slender weapon in Fela’s hand and then back at his own massive great axe.   
“Shouldn’t I use a different weapon or something?” he asked hesitantly.   
“That great axe is normally your weapon of choice right?” Fela asked in reply and Rory nodded.   
“Keep it,” she said, “you’ll have better control over a weapon you are used to, it’s safer for us both.”

“Going up against a great axe with a rapier is _safer_?” Mhairi piped up from the side line but was quickly silenced by Germain, who agreed that control of the weapon was more important than its size. He also instructed the recruits to pay attention to Fela’s footwork. Fela nodded reassuringly at Rory.

“I’ve taken down ogres with these things,” she said, “it’s fine.” She read the hesitation in his posture.   
“Do you trust me?” she asked, and Rory nodded.   
“Alright,” he said and drew up his axe, “pay attention guys! This is how you get your ass kicked!” It earned him a chuckle from his fellow recruits as he charged and tentatively swung his axe to test Fela’s response.

She simply stepped out of reach without raising her rapier. Using it to block would result in needless damage to the blade, rapiers weren’t made to block great axes. In fact, very few weapons were made to block great axes so the common tactic was to dodge. The short and certain step and her relaxed posture as the weapon passed her bespoke Fela’s confidence. She ducked under a diagonal swipe and sidestepped a downward swipe, stepped in close and smacked Rory’s ribs with the flat of her blade.

“You can do better,” she said as they moved away from each other, “come on.”

Rory acted on the challenge, swinging his axe in a wide arch after taking two quick steps forward. Fela stepped into the swing with such speed that Rory nearly stumbled back in surprise, her elbow in his ribs ensured that he did, dropping his axe in the process. Another smack from the flat of her blade, to his thigh this time. She stepped back to let him stand up, he changed tactics, trying for a pommel strike which was also sidestepped and followed by her left fist hitting him under his chin, sending him stumbling back. Fela moved in, testing his blocking.

He caught her rapier on the grip of his axe and moved it down when she turned the blow into a sideways swipe, and again when she struck an even lower blow. Literally of course. The sound of steel hitting steel rang through the training yard, complemented by Rory’s grunts. Fela however, was deadly quiet. The only sound she produced rang from her blade. Including another smack when she hit Rory across the shoulder blades after stepping under a wide swing.

Rory started to gain confidence now, and the swipes of his axe became surer now he got a feel for Fela’s speed. Which, he noted, was almost unnatural. He couldn’t match it, which meant he could trust her to dodge when he put serious force behind a blow. He wasn’t going to cut her in half, she wouldn’t let him. That didn’t mean he got careless though, duels were all about control. Anybody can hold an axe and pirouette through a mass of bodies, _assuming_ _they_ _aren’t_ _moving_ _like_ _bloody lightning!_

But truly wielding an axe, making it a weapon rather than a blunt tool, was about technique. And Rory had it. It wasn’t enough though, Fela crouched under another swing, lashing out with a kick to his knees that dropped him flat on his back. By the time he figured out which way was up and which was down, Fela had gently tapped his forehead with the flat for her blade in jest.

Rory laughed.   
“I am _never_ getting into a serious fight with _you_ , damn!” Fela reached out to pull him to his feet.   
“You did well,” she said with a smile, “but you waste too much movement, that allows your opponent more time to react to your move and it makes you easier to read.” He nodded.   
“I’ll work on it,” he said with a slight blush at the compliment.   
“I don’t doubt it,” she said warmly and turned to their spectators.

“So, tell your instructors what you saw,” she said, encouraging them to analyse the fight.

Germain turned it into a lesson, and the recruits gladly participated. They ended with a promise that they could sit in on a sparring match between Alistair and Fela later that day, which had them pretty excited.

Fela found she rather enjoyed her role as assistant teacher. Not only did it allow her to bond with the new recruits, it was fun to spar and re-enact moves for the recruits to study. It was a very enjoyable morning, and it left her in a good mood.

A shame she had to go see Nate, she wanted tell him she was going conscript him. To let him get used to the idea, he probably wasn’t going to like it. Hence why she wanted him to stew in it while she went to Kinloch Hold.

* * *

Fela marched through the dungeon with Asher in tow, determined to make this quick.

Last time she saw Nate, she said some pretty horrible things to him. Maybe describing the murder of his father in great detail wasn’t such a great idea after all. It felt good at the time though.

She greeted the guards, and approached Nate’s cell. He recognised her footfall and turned toward the bars to watch her approach this time. He’d been thinking about her, and that… thing, she did when she spoke about his father.

“Nate,” she said in greeting.   
“Your Grace,” Nate replied in a voice dripping with venom, “have you come to exact your judgement?”   
“In a way,” she replied, “things got quite a bit out of hand last time, we didn’t get to discuss our options.” She dragged a chair in front of his cell and sat down leisurely, just out of reach, to study him.   
“Let’s go over your crime first,” she began, “all you really did was break into the palace.” She paused to let Nate respond.   
“Your security is lacking,” he replied flatly.   
“Of course, you just didn’t finish that mission because you got caught,” Fela continued, “you came her to kill me.” She said it casually, like this wasn’t out of the ordinairy for her. Nate met her gaze.   
“Yes, I did,” he said coldly, as if challenging her to take offense. She didn’t.   
“At least you’re honest about that,” she replied with a shrug.

They stared at each other for a brief moment, each sizing the other up.

“So, now what?” Nate finally said, and crossed his arms.   
“You got me there Nate, I have my doubts,” she replied.   
“Doubts? About executing me?” he asked incredulously, Fela winched internally at how much he sounded like his father when he took that tone.   
“That is one option, but to be honest, it doesn’t really seem fair,” she replied, watching the angry man behind the bars. There was tension in his posture, he looked like a snake right before it attacked, still and waiting.

“I killed your father,” she continued, “because he killed everyone I loved, save Asher and Fergus, and left them to rot in a ditch.” She saw something flicker across Nate’s face at her brother’s name.   
“You didn’t know he survived then,” she concluded, “but he isn’t your problem. I am.”   
“Indeed you are,” he sneered, “your brother would have sentenced me by now.”   
“You were in the Free Marches for a long time Nate,” Fela said, “and you don’t know your father as well as you think you do.”   
“Right, because you know people _so_ well,” Nate sneered, “ _mind_ _flayer_.”   
“If that’s what you want to call it,” Fela said offhandedly before continuing, “your father committed many crimes, not just against my family, but against countless other people. While I admit to having a personal vendetta with your father, it wasn’t the only reason I killed him. And if it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else eventually. He had made too many enemies.”

Nate felt heat rise in his stomach every time she spoke about his father, like a wave of fury that needed to be let out. But he had heard the rumours, the horrendous stories of the Butcher of Denerim, and most of those had nothing to do with the Grey Warden sitting in front of his cell. He didn’t want to believe them, but he knew that the stories had to come from somewhere. His father had a… an edge. He took pleasure in other people’s suffering, he’d always known that. But as far as Nate knew, his father kept that part reined in.

But what if he didn’t? What if he had indulged in his sadism? Nate wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t say he was as surprised as he should have been when he heard the first rumours. Not even the sacking of Highever surprised him overmuch, the Howe’s and the Couslands had a bloody history ever since Highever broke away from, Amaranthine. And the fact that Amaranthine had remained an Arling while Highever had been raised to a Theyrnir had long been a reason for bad blood and bitter envy.

Nate had thought this generations past, that his father and Bryce Cousland had been friends who were loyal to each other. But recent events proved otherwise, even though it was coming from the woman he had wanted dead, he knew what she said was true. But he couldn’t even admit that to himself, let alone her.

“So you gut him in his own keep,” Nate replied sardonically, “naturally.”   
“We’ve been over that part already,” Fela said crisply, “as things stand, your family has been ousted, your house has been stripped of its titles and lands. We could leave it at that,” she said giving Nate a meaningful look, “or you can take a chance to earn your honour back.”

Nate took a step back, was she seriously offering him a second chance? _Seriously!?_

“What makes you think I won’t try to kill you again?” he asked in a low voice, barely above a whisper.   
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Fela replied, still watching him with that black gaze of hers. The truth was, he no longer wanted to kill her. He’d known once he saw her strolling across the palace roofs, and Nate could have sworn she knew it too.   
“What do you propose?” he finally asked.   
“Take the Joining,” Fela said, “and join the Grey Wardens.”

Nate almost laughed in her face.

“You want _me,_ to join your ranks?”   
“An archer of your calibre?” she replied, “why yes, I think I would have much use for you. There are still darkspawn on the surface, and we need capable fighters. You could restore honour to your house, Nate, and honestly your father made quite a mess of things. You can set some of it right, prove you are not him.”

The way she said the last bit, Nate cocked his head, it was almost… pleading. She… _wanted,_ him to prove he was not his father? Why would _she,_ of all people, want him to do that? She could have him executed, no questions asked. She could let him rot, give him to her dog as a chew toy, cut off his thumbs and scoop out his eyes, no questions asked. Yet she was willing to let him, a likely threat, serve as a Grey Warden. An honour that was supposed to be reserved for a select few.

Then Fela let her mask fall for the first time, she needed it. She wanted to _believe_ Nate was not his father, needed to _see_ it, while common sense was telling her the exact opposite, and that hurt her. _Why?_ Why should she care? They were just learning to tolerate each other when Nate was send to the Free Marches, and before that they pretty much hated each other. In a way only children can, he supposed, but that didn’t change that they had never been friends. Rivals, at best.

“You want me to _serve_ you?” he asked snidely, “to make up for what my father did? Pay off his debt? Shall we say?” She arched an eyebrow.   
“That’s one way of looking at it. You can also see it as an opportunity to regain some of what you’ve lost. Events leading up to that loss may have been out of your control, but your own actions are not.”   
“What do I have to prove?” Nate bit back, “if I had nothing to do with what happened? Are you going to punish me for my father’s actions? Does that seem _fair_ to you!?”   
“What is fair, is executing the man who broke into my home to kill me,” Fela said, “this has nothing to do with fair. _Nothing,_ about this whole mess is fair.”   
“I would argue that going after the person that killed my father, _is_ fair,” Nate spat, “punishing me for his deeds, is _not!_ ” Fela rose, quickly enough that Nate almost didn’t see it even though he was looking straight at her.

“We are beyond what is fair or not,” she said coldly, “wishing it was any different, is not going to change that.”   
“And serving you is?” he snarled.   
“Not me, Grey Wardens serve a purpose, to protect the land and it’s people from the Blight and the corruption it brings.”   
“Did killing my father serve to stop the Blight!?”   
“As a matter of fact, it did, the moment I had turned my back to face the horde, I would have had a dagger in it. It was civil war, with half of Ferelden’s armies lost. You can’t protect that if people like Loghain Mac Tir and your father are trying to kill you. Do you have any idea how many hitmen and assassins we’ve fought off? How many times we’ve been attacked by our own people because of what two men had set in motion?”

Fela pulled off her gloves and her bracers, took off her shoulder guards and unbuckled her leather cuirass and let it all drop to the ground unceremoniously, it exposed her arms up to her shoulders. Nate’s eyes widened. She had so many scars he was actually surprised, it shut him up at least.

“For almost a year,” she said quietly, “I’ve been hunted. Your father has send so many people after me, I just stopped counting at some point. I was stopping a Blight at the time, it needed my full attention. He has tried to have me killed, dozens of times, and he was never going to stop. If I was worried about what was fair, I would have been long dead. I’ve left a trail of corpses of hitmen, assassins, thugs, and even civilians gone bandit looking to collect a bounty to survive. And it wasn’t just me Nate, they went after people who associated with me too. It had to stop.”

His face had turned into an unreadable mask and his eyes kept gazing up and down her arms. He remembered a time when that smooth skin was perfectly unblemished. But now, he had an idea of just how many fights she had been in during the Blight. If she sustained that many scars, how many must she have cut down?

He slunk back into the shadows in the back of his cell, never taking his gaze off of her.

“Being a Grey Warden isn’t about being a hero, Nate,” she said, “it’s about doing what we must to protect our world against the Blight. Whatever it takes.” After that she donned the pieces of armor she had taken off with the practiced hand of a veteran, the kind that has practically _lived_ in his armor for months on end.   
“Why didn’t you run?” he asked quietly, “why stay in a dying country where you’re hunted like an animal to fight an impossible battle?”   
“It was something to do,” she said, “everything was going to shit anyway.”   
“Fleeing to Kirkwall and going north from there would have been something to do,” he countered.   
“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” she answered, “and I didn’t like the status quo.” He scoffed.

“You didn’t like ‘the status quo?’ What, you didn’t like my father being alive?”   
“That too,” she admitted, “he also happened to be in my way.” Her flat admission took him by surprise, she didn’t even bother to deny or justify it.

“Are _you_ in my way, Nathaniel?” she asked calmly. Her tone was neutral, there was no accusation, not even a threat. It sounded like she was simply curious, and for all he knew she truly was. But he didn’t miss how the light, cast by braziers, seemed to dim. Like it was fleeing from her, cloaking her in shadows. Lying now would be a waste of effort, she had turned her sight on him.

“No,” he finally said, “I no longer wish to kill you.”   
“Why?” she asked.   
“Does it matter?” he countered.   
“Yeah, it kind of does,” she said, crossing her arms. He gave her no explanation, leaning back against the wall behind him giving her a gloomy stare.

“There is something you should know,” Fela said when no more was forthcoming, “once you agree to go through the Joining ritual, there is no going back.”   
“Way to sell it,” he scoffed.   
“Think about it Nate,” Fela said, “I’m not just handing you a get-out-of-jail-for-free card, becoming a Grey Warden has its price. You would be taking an oath, one that you can never break. We protect the innocent from the darkspawn threat, to that end, we do whatever it takes.”   
“Does that include overthrowing Loghain as King Regent?” Nate sneered. Fela met his gaze levelly.   
“Yes, obviously it does.”   
“From what I heard, Grey Wardens are supposed to shun getting politically involved,” he said idly. Fela scoffed.   
“Does that sound possible to you? We _do_ work within the borders of Monarchs and nobles.”   
“And now _you,_ once a noble, are one of those Monarchs, how convenient,” he replied sardonically.   
“Wonderfully so, I’d say,” she said flatly, “and I might add we are actually encouraged to keep our titles and other worldly ties, and put them to good use.”

Nate didn’t reply, and Fela sighed.   
“I’ll be back in a few days to hear your answer.” She had already started to turn when he spoke.   
“What if I refuse?” She gave him pained look.   
“Then you either stay in that cell, or die.” She let that sink in for a moment, “unless I conscript you.”   
“Ah, so you would give me the _illusion_ of choice?” Nate sneered.   
“Want to find out?” she challenged.

She didn’t bother waiting for a reply and left the dungeon, monstrous hound padding after her.

Not so much a choice, but time to get used to the idea. He would be a Grey Warden, the question was whether he was going to make her conscript him, or admit he was willing to accept of his own volition.


	70. Back To Kinloch Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela travels to Kinloch Hold with Stround, Wynne, Zevran, and Asher. Zevran puts two and two together and Fela gains a new recruit.

“Is there _nothing_ I can say to make you stay?”

Alistair whispered as he slid his arms around Fela’s waist from behind and nuzzled her neck. She let out a pleased sigh at the contact.   
“The sooner it’s done, the better,” she whispered back.   
“Can’t you send Stroud to do it?” he asked while he let one of his hands travel up to cup one of her breasts. She chuckled.   
“Yes, send an Orlesian Grey Warden to conscript some mages, that will go over well.” He pulled her a little closer against him and nipped at the shell of her ear. It drew a quiet moan from her lips.   
“Maybe I’ll _make_ you want to send Stroud?” he opted. It send a delicious shiver down her spine.   
“How would you do that?” she purred. He kissed the side of her neck gently before biting the tender flesh, and slid his hands down her arms to take hold of her wrists and pulled them behind her back. Holding them with one hand, he used the other to trail his fingertips up her stomach, between her breasts, up along her throat and gripped her jaw to tilt her head back against his shoulder.   
“I can think of a few things,” he whispered, “starting with a reminder of a promise you made.”   
“Yeah? What’s that?”   
“That you’re mine,” he replied, “and you do as I say.” She chuckled.   
“Oh, _that_ promise.”

She let out a moan that sounded more like a purr when he started to devour her neck, melting into him. Alistair let his teeth scrape along the tender flesh while his hands grasped and clutched, pulling her closer against him. A dark chuckle escaped him when she pressed her backside against his erection, making her shiver with want at the deep rumbling sound. His breath was hot on the shell of her ear when he nipped it. His whispers had her grinding back against him, looking for more contact.

Alistair smiled against the side of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair and drowning himself in her. Her body was all soft curves and warmth against him, inviting, wanting. He rolled his hips, and she promptly pushed back harder to create more friction. Then reached back to grasp at his hips, _too much clothing,_ she decided. Alistair seemed to have the same idea, untying the laces of her leggings with impatient tugs. Heat pooled between her thighs, soaking her panties.

Fela somehow managed to kick her boots off while Alistair gently guided her to their bedroom. She took the liberty of throwing off her tunic as well, earning an appreciative growl. Somewhere along the way she had turned around to face him, arms around his neck, and lips hungrily pressed to his.

Her tongue traced his bottom lip before he felt her teeth. Alistair tangled one of his hands in her hair, the other around her waist, holding her possessively as he kissed her back. Parting his lips to meet her tongue with his. He stopped when he felt the side of the bed against the backs of his legs, putting his hands on her shoulders and holding her at an arm’s length. She didn’t appreciate it.

“Wait,” he said when she glared at him and pushed back, “ _wait._ ” The smirk that crept around his lips was infuriating.   
_“what!?”_   
“Take off the rest of your clothes,” he said and sat down on the bed. Watching her as she stripped herself of her breastband, freeing her swollen breasts from their confinements. She felt his gaze on her, felt it linger on the soft mounds of flesh. So, with a challenging glare, she lifted her hands back to her breasts. She played with them, watching Alistair’s gaze grow hotter and more intense by the second. She was smirking when his eyes snapped back up to her face.

“Take those leggings off,” he commanded, “now.” She pressed her breasts up and together instead, making Alistair divert his gaze back to her bosom, this was _her_ game now.   
“Don’t make me do it for you,” he warned as he watched her roll a nipple between two fingers.   
“I think that is exactly what I want,” she replied in soft, smooth tones, darting back when he reached for her, “and I don’t intend to make it easy.”

He rose in the blink of an eye, once again reaching for her but finding nothing but air. She let out a delighted yelp and grinned at him when he let out a frustrated growl.   
“Stop playing games, woman,” he snapped and made another grab for her. She giggled as she darted around him, breasts bouncing in a most wonderful manner.   
“My games? Or yours?” she replied innocently.

This time she let him tackle her to the bed, letting out a delighted laugh as they went down in a tangle of limbs and sheets. She twisted away when he reached for the tops of her leggings and wrapped her legs around his waist, making it impossible for him to pull them down without tearing them. He pushed her legs back up with his hands under her knees to free himself, rolled her onto her stomach, and finally managed to pull off the offending garment and her panties along with it. She moved to get up but he pushed her down. Leaning over her and nudging her legs apart with one knee while he unfastened his trousers and pulled himself free, letting his erection smack against her bare ass before slipping inside her from behind. She tilted her hips back eagerly.   
“Yes!” she moaned, “ah- yes, yes, yes...”

Alistair felt her pussy clench around him when he entered her, hot, slick, and wet, pressing down on him as he pushed in deeper. Fela clawed at the sheets when he did so, letting him slowly fill her up until he could go no further. Then let out a sigh that was closer to a moan when he brushed her hair off her shoulders and sank his teeth into the muscle that connected her shoulder to her neck as he started moving. One hand snaked around her throat to tilt her head back so he could whisper in her ear.

“You promised you are mine.” It send a shiver down her spine and she gasped and bit her lip before replying.   
“Oh, but you have to earn what you take,” she panted, “claim what you want.”   
“I already have what I want,” he growled. Fela chuckled through her moans.   
“Do you?” He retaliated by slamming into her hard, making her cry out.

“Yes,” he whispered in her ear, “you are giving me _exactly_ what I want.”

She growled, he felt the sound reverberate from her throat against his palm. She _was_ giving him exactly what he wanted, he wanted her to struggle so he could claim her, take her, make her his. He wanted to mark her, stitch his name across her heart, he wanted her to scream his name. His, only his.

He licked at the teeth marks he left in her skin, sucked bruises in the soft skin of her neck and shoulders, raked his fingernails along her back, adding his marks to her own. She took it all, encouraging him, _begging_ him, to bite harder, to fuck her faster, squeeze her throat tighter. And he did all those things. He didn’t choke her though, but enough pressure could achieve the same results.

She struggled to find purchase with her knees to she could push her hips back further, looking for more contact, more friction, more, more, more. Alistair responded by sitting up on his knees and dragging her back with him by her hips, allowing her to move with him. It also allowed him to smack her ass. He revelled in the yelps and cries following the sharp impact of his palm on her flesh, it only made her movements more eager.

He could see sweat beading on her back, saw her hands curled into fists in the sheets, the lovely way her ass moved with every thrust and slap. The dark, smouldering gaze cast over her shoulder, urging him on, and on, and on until Alistair felt as if he was going to explode. Fela wasn’t much better for it, her arms had given and she was whimpering face down in the sheets.

With her back arched this way, she let out short high pitched cries each time he delved into her. Stroking that spot deep inside that made her toes curl. Alistair watched himself move in and out of her, the way her pussy seemed to clench around him when he pulled back. His fingers had left bruises around her hips, and they were making more.

They kept moving, reducing their world to the slapping sound of flesh against flesh. Alistair’s balls brushed her thighs each time he rolled his hips forward. The bottom side of her ass smacked into his pelvis. And the sounds coming from her throat drove him nearly mad with want. Long determined strokes turned into deep, erratic plunges as he felt her quiver and shake around him.

She clenched, so tight it made it difficult to keep moving, and cried out his name when her orgasm crashed through her and the clenching turned to ripples and spasms that had Alistair crashing over the edge right after her. She felt him swell inside her and release hot seed in quick bursts. They collapsed in a heap of sweaty flesh and limbs. Catching their breath wearing dreamy smiles.

“Ok,” Fela said, “now I kind of want to stay.” Alistair chuckled and ran his fingers down the slick skin of her back.   
“That was the point.”   
“I’m still going,” she said.   
“I know, I know,” he replied, “you’ll be back soon enough.”   
“Really?” she asked, “that’s it?”   
“That’s it.”   
“Alright then…” she replied, “I’m going to miss you.” He chuckled.   
“I know, that’s what the reminder was for.”   
“So I’ll hurry back for more?” she purred.   
“Exactly,” he replied. She chuckled in reply and moved to kiss him.   
“Oh, honey, I would be doing that anyway.”   
“Sure,” he said, “and when you get back, I’ll tie you to this bed and fuck you until you weep. So you might want to hurry a little more,” he added in a low whisper. It shot a burst of heat right up her centre.

“Promise?”   
“Promise,” he affirmed, “but, if you’d rather I do it now it would make a great excuse to stay.” She burst out laughing.   
“You are terrible! If you’re going to torture me, at least use a whip.”   
“That can be arranged,” he offered sweetly.   
“Well, you’ll have about a week to get one, or we could ask Zevran?” she challenged.   
“If that means you’ll stay,” he said, “worth it.”   
“I should call that bluff, but that would mean letting you win,” she replied as she pried herself free to get up and take care of the mess between her legs.   
“You’ll have to wait for a week then,” he replied with a smile. She threw him a dirty look over her shoulder.   
“You are getting far too good at this game.”   
“I learned from watching you, dear,” he answered innocently, the smirk ruined it.

“So how are you going to explain why you’re late for your own departure? It’s rude to keep people waiting,” Alistair continued, still wearing the same smirk.   
“Hmm, I think I’ll tell them my husband caused my delay with his arguments to make me stay,” she replied as she started dressing.   
“You don’t think they’ll know what that means?” he countered.   
“Oh, they’ll know,” Fela replied as she gathered up her hair to roll it up and tie it in a bun, “but I’m not the one who cares if they do,” she added with a sly grin.   
“Won’t you?”   
“Nope.”   
“Really?”   
“Really.”   
“Turned the tables, did you?”   
“Yes I did,” she replied smugly. Alistair frowned playfully.   
“And here I thought we kept our sex life private.” Fela let out a laugh.   
“I’m afraid it’s common knowledge among our staff, so it’s definitely common knowledge among nobles, that means it’s common knowledge for… everyone else, pretty much _everyone_ else.”   
“It won’t matter much then,” he sighed and rolled onto his back, then grinned, “you can tell them it was a state emergency?” Fela arched an eyebrow.   
“They’ll still draw the same conclusion, but sure.”   
“I mean it kind of _is_ a state emergency, right? The King’s marriage I mean,” he replied. Fela laughed again.   
“Yes, dear, your libido is a state matter.”   
“Well, I _am_ supposed to produce an heir,” he countered.   
“I think I’ve got the production of your heir covered, but sure,” she replied.   
“I still have to do my part,” he answered.   
“I can’t get _more_ pregnant,” she quipped.   
“Yes you can,” Alistair said, “you’ll be a _lot_ more pregnant in a few months.”   
“Fat,” she said, “you mean fat.”   
“Let’s call it a waxing belly,” he replied sweetly.   
“Call it what you like,” she said, “I’m going to get fat, I’ll eat _all_ the food, I have an excuse now.”   
“The horror,” Alistair quipped, and got up to get his own clothes in order.

* * *

Fela and Feyder trotted happily down the West Road, Asher padding next to them on one side, Stroud on the other. Zevran and Wynne rode behind them, with Zevran leading the horse carrying their supplies.

“So, there are two mages I want to talk to,” Fela began, “I’ve met only one of them before, a man named Anders,” she continued, “he’s something of an escape artist, I think he might be interested in the chance to be free of the Circle mostly so we’ll have to get to know him to figure out if he’ll pledge himself to the cause.” Stroud nodded.   
“And the other one?”   
“A young woman called Juno Amell, specialises in elemental magic. She survived the uprising in the Tower of Magi,” Fela added, looking over at Stroud to gauge his response.   
“If she was in Kinloch Hold during that rebellion, she must be powerful,” he said thoughtfully, “I am told the Tower was run over by demons and abominations.”   
“It was,” Fela replied, “until we cleared it out. The Templar Knight Commander had send for the Right of Annulment after sealing the Tower.”

“You could have been annulled with them,” Stroud said as he turned his head to look at her, “why did you go inside?” Fela shrugged.   
“We couldn’t just let them all die,” she replied frankly, “there were children in there.” Stroud nodded.   
“That was a noble thing to do.”   
“Not to the demons, abominations, and blood mages,” she quipped.

“Is it true you killed a pride demon?” he asked.   
“No,” she said, “Alistair killed it, after it nearly killed me. I have a pretty set of scars to remember it by though.” Stroud chuckled at the way she made light of the situation, she seemed at ease, more so than in the palace.

He watched her during the journey, the way she interacted with her companions, how she bustled about camp, always keeping busy. Right up until the moment she disappeared.

Her Mabari was at camp, happily gnawing on a stick he found, so there was no reason to suspect there was something wrong. The hound, Stroud had noticed, reflected his mistress’ mood more often than not. You had to pay close attention, she kept a tight lid on whatever was truly going on in her mind so sometimes the hound may display something she wasn’t showing herself. But he knew that if the hound wasn’t worried, he probably didn’t need to be either.

He noticed the elven assassin watching him while he observed the camp, he kept his face carefully blank but his stare was intense enough to relay the message.

_Whatever it is you’re after, back off._

Fela Theirin shared a close bond with her old traveling companions. Or rather, Blight fighting companions. Both of them had been in the battle with the Archdemon, and both seemed a little weary of him. Stroud wondered why that was, they gave their accounts of what had happened during the battle readily enough. But still, he was being kept at a distance, and he wasn’t sure why. They didn’t seem to be lying about anything. Or if they were, they were really good at it.

“Zevran, dear,” Wynne said, “would you mind gathering some more firewood for me? It’s looking like it might be chilly tonight.”   
“Certainly,” the assassin said and stood, “why don’t you join me, Ser Stroud, I could use an extra pair of hands.”   
“Of course,” Stroud replied, “will you be alright, alone at camp?” he asked Wynne. The elderly mage gave him a sly smile.   
“Of course I will dear,” she said, “anyone bothers me, and I’ll set them on fire,” she added with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Stroud bowed.   
“That should work just fine,” he affirmed and followed Zevran into the trees.

He heard Wynne chuckle behind him and mumble something about young people. Stroud shrugged it off, and thought something of his own about old people.

“Here, hold this,” Zevran said as he started stacking branches in Stroud’s arms. As a result, the assassin had his hands free, and he didn’t. Stroud didn’t expect Zevran to try and kill him, but it spoke volumes about how much the man trusted him. He let out a quiet sigh, and followed the other man through the trees.

“You’re making good headway on training the new recruits I hear,” Zevran said idly as he collected more branches thick enough to feed the fire for a while. Practical, also because it hampered Stroud’s movement even more.   
“The Lady Commander has chosen well,” Stroud said, “she brought in promising recruits.”   
“Do you enjoy working with her?” Zevran asked.   
“What’s not to like,” Stroud said and managed a half shrug, “she’s capable, thinks ahead, has a good sense of humour. Assists in the training of the recruits as well, she has much to teach.”   
“She taught me a move or two as well,” Zevran said with a fond smile, “got in handy during a bar brawl.” Stroud laughed, nearly dropping some of the firewood he was carrying.   
“Somehow, I think she has seen a bar brawl or two herself, meaning no disrespect of course,” he replied.   
“No, you’re right,” Zevran answered with a grin, “she’s a fighter, through and through. She once told me a story of a man who cheated her out of twenty silver during a game of Wicked Grace, she kicked his ass, gagged him with his own smalls, tied him up, and left him in a pig barn. And there was that time in Denerim when… well, she knocked a man out quite efficiently, twice. Never saw it coming.” Stroud chuckled.   
“I believe you.”

“So what’s the deal with you Wardens?” Zevran asked, “last pair got a little… accuse-y.”   
“The Grey Wardens… are somewhat divided about her success,” Stroud said honestly.   
“Because she’s still alive,” Zevran said sharply, “some of you don’t seem to agree with that.”   
“There are those that question the slaying of the Archdemon, yes. But none can claim they can still feel it’s presence, it’s gone, what we don’t understand, is why the Commander is still alive. Some fear what they don’t understand.”

“I know all too well what people tend to do to that which they fear,” Zevran said slowly, “I am an instrument for such actions, after all.”   
“And I assure you, I am not,” Stroud said, “I am here to rebuild the order, nothing more.”   
“Of course,” the elf said in silky tones, “the Blight may be over but darkspawn are still a problem, no?”   
“They always are,” Stroud replied, “the only difference is that they seem to linger on the surface now.”   
“Do you have any thoughts about that?” Zevran inquired.   
“Most should be looking to return to the Deep Roads, but it is not unheard of for bands of darkspawn to form and venture out to the surface, or remain, in this case. We need to find out what’s causing this… delay.” Stroud replied thoughtfully.

The assassin’s question made him wonder about something he had not even considered, did it have something to do with what happened when the Archdemon was slain? No, the Archdemon was gone. And the darkspawn currently terrorising the surface weren’t organised enough to suggest any kind of central leadership.

Stroud noticed Zevran studying him intently. He dropped he firewood.

“Listen,” Stroud said, “the Blight has been stopped, the Archdemon is gone, and your Queen is lucky to be alive. And I intend to see to it she stays that way. Now, I assume you are trying to do the same, so I’ll just come out and say it. I bear your Queen no ill will, she has nothing to fear from me. For whatever reason she is alive, I don’t care, mostly I’m just glad that she is because we can learn from her. She did something extraordinary in stopping the Blight, and I for one, would like to know how she did it because it could _save_ _lives_. And not just that of the Warden who strikes the killing blow. Do you know how much of Thedas was destroyed during the previous Blights? How much damage she and her King have prevented in comparison? The number of lives they saved? This is one woman we _cannot_ afford to lose when darkspawn are still terrorising the land. Ferelden may not be my homeland, but I consider my duty sacred, it goes beyond our borders. Now, if you are quite satisfied, we should get on with collecting firewood, it’s getting dark.”

Zevran gave Stroud an appreciative smile and bowed his head.   
“I hear you, Warden Stroud. But don’t be surprised if you find me keeping an eye on you, it’s my job.”

Stroud nodded in understanding. Things were simple, don’t harm the Warden Queen, and everything will be fine.

Jean-Marc Stroud, had no intention of harming her. He wanted to know more about her, yes. And if the information was useful to the order he would likely share it with them. But he would never do anything to harm her, he simply didn’t have any reason to. And he found that, now that she had thawed a little, he liked her.

He could see why an Antivan Crow had decided to follow her in a seemingly impossible mission. Why an elderly mage chose to follow her into war rather than staying at the Tower she lived in her entire life. The Commander possessed charm, yes, but it was more than that. And Stroud would very much liked to know what that was precisely. It was… intriguing. Same as she had when he met her all those years ago. She peaked his curiosity. In a good way, not a suspicious way. Like a good book, the kind that makes you want to read more and more and more and makes you sad when it is over.

But _she_ , she didn’t have a finite number of pages.

Zevran was a lot more pleasant after that little confrontation, chatting away about the many different ways he had killed darkspawn during the Blight. Stroud shared some stories of his own, which prompted Fela to do the same. She didn’t say where she had been, and Zevran and Wynne didn’t seem to think there was anything strange about it. He wondered at that, but decided not to pursue the issue since it seemed to be normal behaviour for them. People had quirks, and when you were on the road together they tended to come out.

The night was uneventful, delightfully so. They sat around the fire for a bit after cooking up some dinner, Fela was cuddling her mountain of a dog. Absently stroking one of his ears and staring into the fire. Meanwhile Zevran and Wynne chatted away about her efforts in organising medical care for the refugees. It was pleasant, comfortable. Strange.

He was out camping with the Queen of Ferelden, what the hell was he doing? His job, he decided. He had expected her to prefer travel in a carriage, but the young Queen had insisted on a small party on horseback instead. He found himself somewhat surprised at how natural this came to her, then he remembered she had been doing it for a year during the Blight. Of course it came natural to her. It was just easy to forget after meeting her in the palace in a gown.

Now she was sitting in the dirt across from him with a muddy hound across her lap, wearing light leather armor and a number of knives and daggers along with her rapiers.

He had gotten used to the number of weapons she carried by now, in her role as assistant teacher, she disarmed before sparring. Never had she revealed fewer than six blades on her person. It made sense, she was being hunted while fighting a Blight. You don’t get through that without arming yourself to the teeth. But of course, he still remembered the hidden knife she had shown him when he met her all those years ago. The habit already existed, it just evolved. She likely slept with a knife under her pillow too.

He didn’t blame her. Survival strategies turned habit die hard.

In truth, Fela did not keep a knife beneath her pillow. She did however, have one strapped to the back of the headboard of her bed in the palace. And one between the matrass and the wooden side beam. And one _under_ the side beam. That was just the bed, there were more in, on, under, and behind her nightstand. But such details didn’t need to be shared.

* * *

The next day was much like the one before, with one exception.

They had to postpone taking down camp because the Commander had taken ill. Meaning she had been in a bush, vomiting, after breakfast. Wynne tended to her, the Mabari kept the men at bay. Fela said it was something she ate, but Stroud was unsure what that might have been. After that, she seemed fine, and insisted they leave as soon as possible.

As far as he could tell, she really was fine. Apparently Wynne had given her something to settle her stomach and that fixed the problem. They made good headway, and according to Wynne and Fela they would arrive at Kinloch Hold around noon the next day. And they would have, had the Warden Queen not spend another morning vomiting.

And again, she seemed fine for the rest of the day. Right up until being served salmon for dinner at the Spoiled Princess, where he met another of her former companions, a dwarf named Oghren. He was a bit… abrasive. But Fela, Zevran, and Wynne got along with him just fine. Though Fela slapped the back of his head when he slapped her behind.

They caught up over drinks while Stroud quietly observed. Apparently, the dwarf was in a renewed relationship with a woman from his past. And he shared a _lot_ of details, causing Stroud to zone out sooner than he had initially planned. No matter, he was watching two good friends catch up, nothing more. 

* * *

“So, Fela dearest,” Zevran said when he found her sitting on the dock watching out over the lake, “how are you feeling?” She smiled up at him.   
“Perfectly fine,” she replied.   
“Are you sure you’re not sick? Or has someone been poisoning your food?” Zevran asked. People usually started blowing chunks for a reason, and few of them were good. She chuckled.   
“No, Zev, nobody has been poisoning my food. My stomach has just been a little upset, must be getting spoiled with all that fancy food at the Royal Palace.”   
“Hmm,” he replied and sat down next to her, letting his feet dangle above the water like she did.

“Thanks for worrying about me though,” she said, “I’ll let Alistair know you have been very attentive. Might raise your fee on that burglar you’re supposed to be catching.”   
“You _were_ under the desk!” he exclaimed and laughed, then realised she was baiting him to change topics. He could go along with that, for now. Fela grinned sheepishly for a moment, made a slight bow, and spread her hands like she had been caught in a lie.   
“Yes I was.”   
“So, _does_ he sound like a guy you might want to conscript?” Zevran asked.   
“I’m still thinking about it,” she replied, “I need to know more.”   
“I’ll get on it when we get back to Denerim,” he replied.   
“Thanks,” she said and gazed up at the sky.

Her mind was far away, he could tell. She was like that sometimes, just… occupied elsewhere, in that maze she called a mind.

He had often seen it during the Blight, that faraway gaze, like she was in a different place entirely. Zevran had gotten used to it, but that didn’t mean he always understood. Sometimes he could guess what occupied her mind, like he had done when he had found her so upset in the forest over a year ago. Other times, he felt like he couldn’t fathom the places her mind wandered.

This time, he wasn’t certain, but he would gladly hazard a guess that she knew exactly why she had been sick, she just hadn’t told him. He had been listing and eliminating the possible causes, and one in particular, one you normally don’t ask a lady, fit all the signs he had been observing.

Still, it could be anything unless he could manage to get some of her pee. Never going to happen of course. But if he knew one thing, it was that her mind never stopped working. A second thing he knew, was that no matter how far away in thought she was, she always had an ear for her companions. All he had to do, was get her attention. And with Fela, blunt was best.

“So,” he said, “are you pregnant?”

That snapped her right out of it. She jerked her head sideways to look at him.   
“Quiet!” she hissed before looking around like a skittish animal, “yes, alright? I’m pregnant, keep your voice down!”

Zevran smiled, put a finger to his lips, then stood and proceeded to do some sort of happy dance that included a vigorous butt shaking. All very quietly. It melted the frown off her face and made her giggle.

“Congratulations!” he whispered when he finished, “why are we keeping it a secret?”   
“Because I don’t want a big fuss, I still have some things to do before I get too fat to hide it,” she whispered back, “and I’m seven or eight weeks at most, so, you know, maybe don’t shout it off the rooftops just yet.”   
“Does Alistair know?” Zevran asked.   
“Of course Alistair knows,” she said, “do you have any idea of the trouble I went through to convince him to let me go on this trip? Without a battalion of guards?”   
“Say no more,” Zevran chuckled, “I assume Wynne is aware, but not your colleague?”   
“Correct,” she said crisply.   
“Then I’ll keep it that way until you say otherwise. Congratulations, my friend,” he promised and pulled her in for a hug. She returned it, and started to sob.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Zevran said, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”   
“No,” she said and shook her head, “not your fault.” She sniffled as she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, Zevran gave her a handkerchief instead.

“This baby is driving me insane already,” she mumbled. Zevran chuckled.   
“I’m afraid it gets worse from here.”   
“How do you know?”   
“I grew up in a whorehouse, remember? Accidents happen.”   
“Ah, you were a kid, what did you know,” she protested.   
“Enough to know being pregnant makes women crazy. And to put two and two together when a lady starts structurally heaving up her breakfast for no apparent reason and can’t stand the smell of fish,” he replied with a warm smile, “and if it helps, I didn’t notice any of the crazy so far. But your tits look great.”   
“ _I_ do,” she mumbled, ignoring the comment on her boobs, because they really _did_ look great, “I’m all over the place.”   
“Good job on hiding that then,” he said and took the handkerchief to wipe her cheeks properly after she had made a mess of it, “now, I can brew you a draught that will prevent the morning sickness altogether, I’ll check with Wynne if it’s safe, that way we can at least finish this mission without all the barfing, yes? I don’t think Stroud has figured it out yet, but let’s not wait until he does.”

She nodded, and sobbed a little again. Zevran smiled and pulled her in for another hug, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“Are you happy, querida?” he asked quietly.   
“About the baby?” she asked, “yes, of course. Also a little unstable, and hungry, and sleepy, and _cranky,_ and then happy again…” Zevran chuckled.   
“So, pretty much the same as before but worse?” Fela paused, then chuckled against Zevran’s shoulder.   
“Pretty much,” she assented.   
“You realise this means I’ll have to be your shadow now,” Zevran said playfully.   
“What, you think a baby is going to make me fat and complacent?” she challenged. Zev laughed out loud at that.   
“Oh, no, querida,” he said, “but you _will_ become a bigger target.” Fela pulled out of the hug and smacked his shoulder.   
“A more _volatile_ target too,” she warned.   
“I have no doubt,” he replied and gave her a slight bow, “still, Alistair would murder me if something happened to you on my watch.” Fela rolled her eyes.   
“Everything will be fine,” she said, “it’s not like I have a huge target on my back in the form of a scandalously high bounty anymore.”   
“That, is true,” Zevran replied cheerfully, “shall we go inside? It’s chilly out here.”

* * *

“ _Again_?”

“Yes,” First Enchanter Irving replied, “I believe this is the seventh time he’s escaped the Tower.” Fela sighed and chuckled.   
“The man is an artist.” Then she turned more serious, “are there Templars looking for him now?” Irving nodded.   
“Yes, we have his phylactery, they will track him down sooner or later.”

Fela frowned. Using a phylactery, basically a vial of conserved blood, to douse out a person seemed oddly similar to blood magic in her opinion. A reasonably innocent form of it, since it was only used to find people. But, the people using this method were Templars, and that was more than just a little ironic. If a mage had been doing it, they would have been made tranquil or killed in an instant.

“Will they kill him?” she asked.   
“Only if he resists, but he has always come along without violence in the past. I don’t believe he would give them reason to harm him.”

But they didn’t always need a reason, did they? And Irving knew it too. He probably didn’t have many problems with Templars harassing or even abusing him now, but he wasn’t always the First Enchanter.

“I will have to meet with Anders another time then,” she finally said, “could I leave a letter with you?”   
“Of course, your Majesty,” Irving said, “I will see that he gets it.”   
“Are you going to read it?” she asked, making the First Enchanter nearly trip over his own robes as they walked the Tower’s exterior.

An amused grin played around her lips as the First Enchanter composed himself. She already knew all correspondences were monitored in the Tower. And not just because the mages weren’t supposed to be in contact with their families. A mage with outside contacts might make him more difficult to catch if he escaped, unless you knew where he might have gone.

Irving was aware Fela had travelled with an apostate during the Blight, that same apostate had helped rid the Tower of demons, abominations, and blood mages during Uldred’s uprising. She even saved the boy, Connor, from the desire demon that possessed him from the Fade.

He could make a pretty good guess to what the Warden Queen would do if Anders asked her for shelter. She had been actively creating more opportunities for mages to leave the Tower for a time. Working as healers, tutors, advisors, and on occasion even as a strongarm to assist with taking out particularly large bands of darkspawn. Not to mention the burning of the Blighted parts of the land, which wasn’t exactly a small portion, and the clinics in Denerim, which tended to thousands of refugees infected with Blight disease or otherwise.

All within the confounds of Chantry law, paving the way for change, because it showed that mages were _needed_. The Warden Queen was progressive. She still insisted on the value of proper schooling of course, she never denied that mages faced certain risks. Mages needed to be taught to keep themselves safe, to control their magic, but not imprisoned indefinitely.

What she wanted, was to facilitate mages with what they needed to become an active part of society, proper education on their own abilities and vulnerabilities. In her opinion, the gift of magic was too valuable to let it waste away in a Tower. And people who had done nothing wrong, deserved better. She focussed on that last one, because the first was a dangerously Tevene notion.

According to the Grand Cleric at least. Fela herself considered it just obvious. She kept to herself that she felt mages had gotten their wings clipped by the Chantry, which controlled which information was available to them and which wasn’t. Morrigan had been a treasure trove of forbidden information, and Fela had made use of that. Because it was too valuable not to.

It took Irving a moment to realise Fela was just making a jab at him.

“Most likely,” he finally said and made an apologetic gesture with his hands.   
“Protocol, I know,” she said with a chuckle, “it’s fine, it won’t be a dirty letter, I write those to my husband.” Irving laughed and shook his head.   
“How is your husband? The last time we spoke was after the battle of Denerim, have his injuries healed properly?”   
“They have,” Fela nodded, “and he’s well, First Enchanter, thank you.”   
“I remember you were badly hurt,” Irving continued.   
“Grey Wardens heal fast,” Fela replied with a smile, “I was pretty smashed, but it was nothing Wynne couldn’t fix.”

“Your Grace, if I may ask, what happened when you killed the Archdemon? That bright light… and the force that swept from it was like nothing I had ever felt before.” Fela gave him a sharp look from the corner of her eye, Irving could almost _feel_ her cool. But apparently she decided to answer.   
“I remember the light, it came from the Archdemon when it died,” she said, “and I remember being in pain. I wanted to let go of the bolt and get away but my body didn’t obey… The light… enveloped me, and after that I remember nothing until waking up in a bed, bandaged, cleaned, and absolutely trashed.”

“I’ve been told that the Archdemon is actually an Old God, found and corrupted by darkspawn in the Deep Roads,” Irving said thoughtfully.   
“They are,” Fela replied, “this was the fifth, that means there are two left.”   
“What will happen when there are no more Old Gods remains to taint?” Irving asked.   
“We don’t know,” Fela answered honestly, “maybe they’ll be drawn to something else, maybe there will never be an eighth Blight, but I don’t think we’ll ever be truly rid of them. It just doesn’t work like that.”   
“What makes you so certain?” Irving asked.

Fela thought for a moment, biting her lip as she examined her own Taint.

“I think, that darkspawn…” she began but shook her head, “no, the _Taint_ , it’s… We call it the Taint, because that’s what it _does_. It infects, spreads, taints, and corrupts. But what it _is,_ is not so easily defined.” Irving gave her a thoughtful nod, mulling her words over in his head.   
“What do _you_ think it is?” he asked.   
“I think of it as… a counterpart, of sorts. Like creation is the counterpoint to destruction. It’s not a tangible thing but… something that just happens, a force of nature, or reality even. So long as it’s counterpoint exists, so will it.”   
“Would the counterpart be destroyed if the Taint were to be completely eradicated?” Irving asked.

“No,” she shook her head, “you are thinking of it as a balancing scale, it’s not. These are things that _are_ , things that make up reality. They can’t be destroyed, they aren’t tangible things, they are things that _happen,_ cause and effect, time, life, death, ruin, preservation, creation and destruction, they make up the fabric of reality. One could never be without the other, but neither could ever truly be destroyed or stopped.”

“You can destroy darkspawn,” Irving countered, like a tutor challenging his pupil to defend a thesis.   
“Darkspawn are tangible things, vessels. Things for the Taint to inhabit, use. It’s how the Taint affects reality, they are tools. If you take them away, the Taint isn’t gone. You cannot take something out of existence if it is part of what makes up existence,” Fela paused.

It raised an interesting question, if there was a way to remove the Taint’s effects on a body, what would happen if you tried that on an average genlock or something? Or did it logically follow the Taint can never be fully removed from whatever it has infected? They currently didn’t have the means, that was certain. But was it possible at all? _Something for Avernus to look into_ , she decided.

“Same way magic would never truly be gone, even if you eradicated all mages,” Irving finally said, “magic is change, manipulation of reality, it can create, destroy, preserve, restore… But that’s what it does, magic isn’t what it does, it is what it is. It simply exists, happens…” he nodded.   
“Not that any of that matters on a battlefield,” Fela said with a shrug, “I think we both know that from experience.” Irving chuckled.   
“You’re right. I believe there was another mage you asked to meet?”   
“Juno Amell, yes,” Fela replied, “Wynne recommended her.” Irving nodded.   
“A fine young mage, powerful.” Fela gave the older man a sheepish grin.   
“I may have some ideas on how to put her firepower to good use. If she is interested, I’m not here to conscript her.”

“Knight Commander Gregoir might still make you,” Irving warned.   
“Then he can have it his way,” Fela shrugged, “what matters is whether Enchanter Amell is willing to join the Grey Wardens.” Irving gave Fela a respectful nod and gestured for her to follow him back into the Tower.

* * *

Juno Amell looked up from the tome she had been pouring through when Irving and the Warden Queen entered the library.

Keen eyes observed the darker woman as she approached, pale green, the colour of jade. She brushed a lock of auburn hair behind her ear, taking in the Grey Warden’s appearance. _Tall_ , she noticed, but not so tall as she had expected. She had heard the stories of the Warden Queen, the things she did, and that had somehow led her to believe the Warden Queen would be six foot tall. Why exactly, she wasn’t sure. It just seemed a person who could do what she did ought to be tall.

In truth the Warden Queen was only slightly taller than the average woman, her petite build and proud posture added to her appearance, though now that she looked at it, the Queen was still a good four inches shorter than Irving, who was of average height for a man. Neither was she as lean and muscular as she would have thought, she actually looked quite delicate. With luscious raven hair and big dark eyes.

Though there was something in the way she moved that suggest she wasn’t delicate, not delicate at all. Juno would bet gold those long limbs were hard as steel, that a single kick could snap her femur if she wanted to. At the moment though, her body language was relaxed. There would be no bone snapping today, and why would there be? She and Irving seemed comfortable in each other’s presence.

Not surprising, the Grey Warden had saved Irving, and the Tower itself, from Uldred and annulment. They had shared a battlefield, Irving was there when the Archdemon had been slain, his arrival had turned the tide for them when they were about to be overrun by darkspawn forces, and she had been the one that had finally slain the Archdemon. Plenty of reason for the two to be friends.

“Enchanter Amell,” Irving said in greeting, “may I introduce you to her Majesty the Queen, Fela Theirin, Commander of the Grey, Arlessa of Amaranthine, veteran of the fifth Blight, and Hero of Ferelden.” Juno poorly concealed a smile when the Queen gave Irving a distasteful look.   
“Did you _have_ to list all that?” Irving gave her an innocent smile.   
“I apologise, I meant to introduce you as one befitting of your stature,” he quipped. Making the Warden Queen chuckle and shake her head before turning to Juno.

“Pleased to meet you Enchanter Amell.” Juno bowed, “the pleasure is mine, your Grace,” then turned to Irving, “to what do I owe the honour?”   
“Her Grace has asked to meet you personally,” Irving said with a warm smile, and turned to the Queen and waited for her to explain.   
“I am actually here today as Commander of the Grey,” Fela said, “I am looking for recruits, and you have been recommended by a dear friend and companion of mine, Wynne.”

Juno’s eyes went wide. Wynne, sweet, grandmotherly Wynne, had recommended her as a Grey Warden recruit. She let out a stunned chuckle, it was her ticket out of here, she could be _free._ No more Templars, no more walls, no more eyes always watching her every move. She could go _out,_ feel the wind, and the sun on her skin. She could go _away_ from here. From groping hands and mailed fists. From the beatings, and the abuse, and…

Away, she wanted to go away. Nothing was ever more important than getting _away_ from this place. _This_ _prison._ It took a lot of willpower not to let her thoughts show on her face, she forced herself to smile pleasantly and bow.  
“I couldn’t be more honoured,” she said. Pleased with how steady her voice sounded.   
“You must have questions,” Fela said, “the life of a Grey Warden isn’t an easy one.”

Juno nodded slowly, though, she really didn’t care if the life of a Grey Warden wasn’t easy, the life of a mage in a Tower wasn’t either. But one offered the freedom to fight or flee from assailants, and the other one didn’t.

“I don’t honestly know where to begin, you Grace,” she replied, struggling to hide the torrent of excitement, fear, and uncertainty that raged within her. Fela sat down and motioned for Juno to do the same.   
“If you wish to join our ranks, and you are by no means required to make a decision right now, your entire life will change. The life of a Grey Warden means hard travel, fights, you’ll get hurt sooner or later, you might die fighting, for long periods of time you will miss the comforts you have grown used to here. And by ‘comforts,’ I mean the bed you sleep in, being able to wash yourself every day, and going to bed with a full belly every night,” Fela clarified with a meaningful look, “on the other hand, the reward would be the opportunity to live outside the Circle Tower, free of constant Templar monitorisation. I can only imagine what such an opportunity might mean to you, but I want you to be aware that you wouldn’t be trading it for an easy life. There will be violence and inevitably deaths, I can’t promise you glory.”

Juno bit her lip as she mulled the words over in her head, looking down at her delicate hands. She was no warrior, she had firepower, yes. And a lot of it too, but she wasn’t taught to defend herself in hand-to-hand or armed combat. But death and violence were here too, the difference was that it kept occurring in a single place.

“Might I ask, your Grace, what is it you expect me to contribute?” she asked shyly, curious as to why the Warden Queen chose her, a nineteen year old wisp of a girl, rather than someone physically stronger, or larger for that matter. The Queen smiled at her and leaned in.   
“I expect you haven’t been taught what you can do without a leash,” she said quietly. Quietly enough that only she and Irving could hear.   
“But trust me when I say this, a mage is worth his weight in gold in a battle. And in your case some extra, to make up for your small posture,” she added with a wink.

“Wynne tells me you are more powerful than most, a keen student, and that you have a deep mana pool,” Fela said, “Wynne was with me during the Blight, she knows what she is talking about when she says you would be a valuable addition. And I like the idea of firepower, crowd control, an general mayhem. Does that sound like something you can offer me?” This allowed a small smile to creep around Juno’s lips, the Warden Queen had _no_ idea.

“Yes, I believe her talents would be suited for general mayhem,” Irving finally said with a sly smile and a wicked gleam in his eyes, “she specialises in elemental magic, her control surpasses that of even the most experienced mages here. You won’t have to worry about friendly fire. And miss Amell has actually already seen some battle during the Blight.”   
“You have?” Fela asked. Juno nodded.   
“After you freed the Tower, your Grace, I was part of one of the teams that patrolled the roads around Redcliffe. I was there when Redcliffe was attacked, I fought to defend it until you and the King rode in with reinforcements.” Fela gave a nod.   
“You’ve gotten up close and personal with darkspawn before then.”   
“Not close, your Grace, but certainly personal if you consider burning, freezing, and frying them to death an intimate experience.”

The Queen smiled at her again, Juno found that smile was strangely encouraging. More so than anyone else’s. For some reason, this woman’s respect mattered to her a great deal, it made her feel proud and valuable. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You never let them get close, did you,” Fela said with a respectful nod, “quite a feat, considering the state of Redcliffe’s defences when we got there.”   
“I wasn’t alone, your Grace,” Juno said, “but thank you.”

“Listen,” Fela said, “I can talk for hours on end on what you might have to endure as a Warden, but I think it might be better to show you. Let you experience it yourself before you make a decision. You are hereby invited to accompany me to Denerim, where you will receive training from seasoned Grey Wardens. You can always return to the Tower if you decide you don’t want to join our ranks. However, if you agree to go through with the Joining, there will be no turning back. Once you join, you _cannot_ forsake the duty we swear to uphold. It is of outmost importance you understand that.” Juno gave a nod.

“Your Grace, I accept your invitation, and I fully intend to join your ranks, leave this place, and _never_ come back.”   
“You’ll have a duty,” Fela said gently, “I’m not handing you a get-out-of-jail-free card. You must dedicate yourself to protecting the realm of men from the Taint, darkspawn, and the Blight. Though I feel certain enough to assure you there won’t be another Blight for a while yet.”   
“I can’t think of a better way to make myself useful to the rest of the world,” Juno said.

Fela cocked her head at Juno’s tone. There was something hidden in it, something secret she wasn’t showing on her face. Desperation? This girl was clutching at the opportunity to get away from here, more so than seemed healthy. Fela could make a guess at the reason behind that, she would have to watch Juno for a while. Make sure she was alright.

“Then it is decided,” Fela said with a broad smile, “welcome to my ragtag band of misfits.” Juno turned to Irving.   
“Thank you for this, First Enchanter,” she said breathlessly, grasping his hand in both of hers where it rested on the table.   
“Thank you for your support,” she said to both of them, “I-” she stopped herself, “thank you.”   
“Don’t thank me,” Irving said, “thank Wynne. I am always thankful to see one of you get away.”   
“I will give you some time to gather your belongings and say your goodbyes while I speak to Knight Commander Gregoir about your release. Wynne and I will await you at the front doors,” the Queen promised and stood.

Juno let out a relieved chuckle and stood when the Queen left the library, she rounded the table and threw her arms around the older man’s neck with an elated laugh. He hugged her back like a grandfather would hug his granddaughter, wearing a proud, and at the same time, sad smile.

“Go on, get out of here girl,” Irving said encouragingly, “you don’t need to spend another minute within these walls if you don’t want to.”   
“Thank you so much,” Juno said in a thick voice, “for everything.”   
“I could never give you much,” Irving replied, “Maker knows your life here has been anything but easy.” Juno shook your head.   
“That’s not _your_ fault,” she said defiantly.   
“No, but it’s my responsibility,” Irving said, “and I’ve come up short on more than one occasion.”   
“ _Not, your, fault,_ ” Juno repeated, “stop putting the blame in the wrong place.” Irving smiled at the young Enchanter.   
“We’ll miss you here, Enchanter Amell, but don’t let us keep you any longer.” Juno smiled back and nodded.   
“Farewell, First Enchanter, I promise I’ll write,” she thought for a moment, “I don’t think I’ll come visit though. I never want to see this place again, no offense.”   
“No one would blame you, now go, enjoy your new freedom,” Irving said, nudging the young woman toward the exit.

One last, brief hug, and she was off, racing up the steps to her quarters to gather what few belongings she possessed, and get the fuck out of there.

* * *

Knight Commander Gregoir had been pleased to see her, at first.

Fela asked after Cullen, who had been transferred to Kirkwall. He was once again serving in a Circle, but at least it was away from Kinloch Hold. When she informed him she was recruiting Juno Amell, he might as well have burst into flames right there on the spot.

“Mages need to be kept in a place where we can protect them, out fighting darkspawn is the complete opposite of that!” he shouted when Fela wouldn’t budge.   
“A mage is invaluable to our forces, miss Amell is powerful, she can keep a lot of people safe. Magic is supposed to _serve_ men, is it not? This is one way magic can serve us,” Fela replied calmly.   
“The girl is only nineteen!” Gregoir countered, “she’ll face demons that try to tempt her _every night!_ She needs guidance.”   
“She has been Harrowed,” Fela replied crisply, “I believe that is proof that she can withstand temptation from demons in the Fade.”   
“We have plenty of older, more experienced mages here,” Gregoir went on, “why does it have to be a teenage girl!?”   
“The young lady is powerful, talented, and has more control over her magic than anyone else here, according to First Enchanter Irving. How many mages do you have that can cast a firestorm without causing _literal_ friendly fire? How many control their thunderstorms to such an extend she can keep it from striking her allies? She fought through the siege of Redcliffe during the Blight” Fela countered, “on top of that, miss Amell will receive training from the Order, she’ll need to learn how to defend herself without her magic in the event her mana runs out. I need someone young and healthy for that.”

Gregoir threw his hands in the air in exasperation and produced some sort of frustrated growl.

“Let me make this easy for you,” Fela said and stood, “miss Amell is coming with me if she wishes it, if you intend to stop her from doing that, you may consider her conscripted.”   
“You can’t!” he sputtered but Fela cut him off.   
“Yes I can.” Gregoir slammed his fist into his desk.

“You can’t just come in here and get some mages to let them run around Ferelden! This is the Chantry’s law!”   
“ _Knight Commander Gregoir!_ ” Fela roared in a staggering wave of anger, “you will mind who you are speaking to.”

The rage might as well have seeped from her pores, she felt hot, every muscle tensed and her vision focussed solely on Gregoir. The Knight Commander stepped back a little, thrown off his rage by the sudden change in the Warden Queen. Her gaze seemed to have darkened, smouldering like hot coals from the shadows cast on her face by the flickering light. Like it was receding from her. He didn’t sense any magic, the Warden Queen wasn’t a mage, he already knew that. She radiated… _something_ , something that subdued his anger. A stark reminder of her power. This was the woman who killed the Archdemon.

Fela took Gregoir’s silence as submission, and eased off a little. She hadn’t meant to blow up on him like that. Rage had taken her by surprise when Gregoir had gotten too violent for her taste, which was apparently when he banged his fist into the table and produced a loud noise.

“Tell me Knight Commander,” Fela said slowly, sizing up the man in front of her, “am I conscripting miss Amell?” He stared daggers at her for a moment, then sighed and shook his head.   
“No, you are not, your Grace. But I must ask you to see miss Amell returned here if she does not wish to join your Order.”

She gave a curt nod before leaving his office. Gregoir was left to catch his breath and compose himself, unsure of what had just happened.

* * *

Juno had practically stormed Wynne and caught her in a hug, nearly toppling the older woman as she caught the little ginger.

After that, she had been so eager to get through the doors, it had gotten Fela all excited and… frolic-y… It wasn’t an unpleasant experience, she was absorbing Juno’s emotions, and decided she liked it enough not to filter it out. She enjoyed the younger woman’s exuberance, and was happy to go along with it, like hitching a ride on her happiness.

Juno was looking up at the sky fondly and took a deep breath when they stepped outside. Fela was vaguely reminded of Oghren’s reaction upon stepping outside of Orzammar. Although he had displayed the exact opposite of what Juno was doing. There was a spring in her step as they made their way down to the docks, she let her fingertips graze over the leaves of a bush. Breathing in her freedom. And then she froze.

The abrupt change of emotions she was getting from Juno had her stop dead in her tracks.

Wynne slowed and looked from Fela to Juno as they both stared down at the dock, where Carrol was waiting to ferry them back. Fela sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, she knew that feeling. The pure terror, crushing Juno’s earlier exuberance and leaving her with a knot in her stomach so tight that it hurt. It made her limbs tremble as she willed them to move, making her way over to Juno to put a hand on her shoulder.

The girl startled, slapping Fela’s hand away in a reflex, her magic sparked, briefly overwhelming her in a moment of panic. Fela shushed Juno as she moved away, her eyes wide with shock, as she scrambled for words to apologise that she couldn’t find.

“I see him,” Fela said softly, “I got you, you’re safe with me.” Juno’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of what the Warden Queen was saying. She took Juno’s hand.   
“You have to be strong now,” Fela whispered, “don’t let him see your fear. Don’t let him have it.” Juno still looked thoroughly confused but gave a trembling nod before taking a few deep breaths.

“Fela?” Wynne asked.   
“It’s alright Wynne, why don’t you go ahead down to the dock, we’ll be there shortly,” she answered, purposely shielding Juno from Wynne’s vision. The girl was terrified, best not to involve any more people at this point. She felt Juno’s need to hide. Fela put her hands on both of Juno’s shoulders to make the girl face her.

“I know you’re afraid,” she said quietly, “he can’t do anything with me there. He won’t. We’ll get to shore, and you’ll never have to see him again, I got you, understand?” Juno nodded again.   
“Ok,” she said in a trembling voice, “get to shore, I can do that.”   
“You don’t have to answer him if he talks to you, I’ll take care of it, alright?” Fela added and gave Juno’s a squeeze. The girl nodded.   
“Good,” Fela said, “ready?” Another nod, and they started walking.

Carrol gave the three women a stiff greeting, his eyes briefly lingering on Juno before Fela stepped in front of her.

“Ser Carrol,” Fela said curtly, “would you be so kind to take us to shore, please.”   
“Of course, your Grace,” the Templar replied and offered her his hand to help her into the boat. She ignored it to help Juno into the boat instead.

“Is Enchanter Amell leaving _with_ you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.   
“I have recruited her into the Grey Wardens, Gregoir and Irving are aware, and have agreed to this arrangement. Now, I have people waiting for me at the Spoiled Princes, and I’d rather not waste any more time,” Fela replied as she hopped into the boat after Juno and offered Wynne her hand. The elderly woman accepted the offered hand with a warm smile before stepping into the boat and looking up at Ser Carrol.   
“Come along now, young man,” she said as she sat, “we shouldn’t keep people waiting.” At this, Ser Carrol stepped into the boat, and proceeded to push off shore. Fela gestured for Juno to sit next to Wynne and took a seat directly between her and Carrol, blocking the younger woman from the Templar’s view.

She had her back to them, so Juno couldn’t see her face, but she glimpsed Carrol’s face, briefly, and he looked as terrified as she felt. She smiled a _bitter_ , little smile at that, the man was transfixed on the woman in front of him, looking as though she might tear his throat out with her teeth at any moment. As a result, he rowed as fast as he could, which suited Juno just fine. She was too pleased with what she saw on Carrol’s face to wonder why he looked like that.

“How long have you been at Kinloch Hold, Ser Carrol,” the Queen asked in a dangerously low voice.   
“S- since I was eighteen your Grace, over seven years now,” he replied, panting with his rowing efforts.   
“You seem to have recovered well from Uldred’s uprising during the Blight,” she continued, “I can’t say the same for some of your colleagues. They looked… afraid.” Fela carefully studied Carrol as she spoke the words, pouring every drop of hatred and rage she felt on Juno’s behalf into her gaze. She was attempting to crush him with it, make his insides twist into a knot so tight he couldn’t breathe. So Carrol nodded.   
“Yes, your Grace,” he replied, “I am well.”   
“Are you,” she answered rhetorically.

Fela explored Carrol’s mind, creeping in past the Templar he presented himself as, snaking beyond the man behind it, and down to that ugly twisted thing he hid from the world and even himself. It was nauseating somehow, and Fela hoped Carroll felt it too. He kept rowing, his knuckles white with the effort of gripping the paddles as tight as he could, to row as fast as he could go. Get to shore, get to shore _right fucking now!_

When they reached the dock, Carrol couldn’t move fast enough to leap out of the boat and moor. This time he didn’t offer Fela his hand, he backed away a few steps instead, never once casting another glance at Juno. Who helped Wynne onto the dock after she clambered on herself before turning to the Warden Commander. Her gaze was as transfixed on Carrol’s as his was on her, but it was clear who held it there.

“Your Grace?” she asked and held out a hand. Fela broke the connection with Carrol to look up at Juno and smile pleasantly.   
“Thank you, miss Amell,” she said, and graciously stepped out of the boat after taking Juno’s hand, though she felt no pull or weight whatsoever as the Queen moved.

She pretty much stepped out of the boat on her own and did it while touching her hand to Juno’s. Meanwhile Carrol appeared to have been catching his breath, standing bent over at the waist with his hands resting on his knees, which was an awkward position in full armour. He didn’t look up to see the women leave for the tavern, and they didn’t look back at him either.

* * *

Juno rode with the Queen.

An odd pairing at first glance. But Juno had never learned how to ride at the Circle, for obvious reasons. Wynne had received a crash course during the Blight, but that didn’t make her a particularly good rider. By now Fela had figured out why she had sensed desperation in Juno’s voice when she declared she intended to join the Grey Wardens. After Juno’s reaction towards Carrol, it was painfully obvious. And Fela wouldn’t let her ride with one of two men she never met before, knowing what kind of reaction that could provoke.

So, the young Enchantress sat in front of the Queen who had her arms around her to hold the reins. That way she could steady the girl whenever she lost her balance. It was an awkwardly intimate position, and Juno’s posture had been so stiff she nearly toppled off the horse at one point. She should have eased into the Queen’s front and followed her movements, she knew. But the idea of the Queen’s ample bosom pressed into her back wasn’t as alluring to Juno as it might have been to someone else.

This was the _Queen_ for heaven’s sake!

“You need to relax,” Fela said gently, “I know this is a little awkward for you but it would be easier for us both if you did. I could guide your movements.”   
“Apologies, your Grace,” Juno replied, “I… I will try.”   
“Don’t worry about it, alright?” Fela said, “I’ll teach you how to ride when we get to Denerim.”   
“Have you taken many passengers before, your Grace?” Juno asked, hoping that some conversation might make this a little easier. They had at least three more days of travel ahead of them. If she was going to be stuck on a horse with the Queen for three days, she might as well make the best of it. The Queen seemed amicable enough, not nearly as distant and aloof as she expected her to be. She was much more… human.

“Not really,” Fela admitted, “but I used to take my nephew out riding.”   
“Oh,” Juno said. Everyone knew the Warden Queen’s back story, and thus the slaughter of her family. It made for that tragic hero image that often works so well around campfires and in taverns. Leliana had used it well.

“Did he uhm… fall off the horse like I did?” Juno asked shyly. And if the glowing of her ears was any indication, she suspected she was blushing profusely. The Queen chuckled,   
“I want to say yes to make you feel better, but he really didn’t.” Juno returned the chuckle, looking for words to form some sort of reply. But the Queen spoke before she did.

“There is something we need to talk about,” she said gently, “about what happened at the docks.” Juno immediately stiffened again, her breath caught in her throat and her mouth suddenly went dry.   
“I’m sorry,” Fela said, “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

That caught Juno off guard, the Queen was apologising… to _her. What the hell?_

“I-… no, of course not, your Grace,” she stammered, “why would you think… oh...”   
“Listen, what happened there, I noticed you… I noticed your distress. And when I saw you looking at Carrol I drew my conclusions. You don’t have to talk to me about it if you don’t want to, but I want you to know I understand why you reacted the way you did. It didn’t change my opinion of you. It changed my opinion of _him,_ certainly, but it wasn’t very high to begin with. I know men like that, I _kill_ men like that. Unfortunately stabbing a Templar through the eye in broad daylight at the Circle of Magi didn’t seem like a sensible course of action. No wait, now I sound like a psychopath,” she groaned, “I’m trying to say… I know what he is. I know… I know what it’s like. I understand, and if you need anything, I’d be glad to help, or lend you an ear. One woman to another.”

Juno went silent and still. She was too stunned by the Queen’s words to fully realise their implication. She had met this woman only yesterday, and she was treating her like… a little sister? Sort of. Even stranger, it felt genuine. The Queen was actively trying to bond with her, and succeeding.

“Thank you, your Grace,” she finally whispered.   
“Just Fela will do,” the Queen replied, “I got your back, ok?”   
“It seems only fair I have yours then,” Juno answered with a small grin, “so, you said you were interested in my firepower?”

Juno got a chance to show off her firepower when Fela picked up on a sizable band of darkspawn.

The girl was a marvel, she was a terror, she was a torrent of fire, descending upon the darkspawn like the wrath of Andraste herself. While she took care of the bulk, consisting mostly of hurlocks and genlocks, Fela went after the alpha these darkspawn were currently following. She found it in the treeline, partly obscured from view as it pointed and growled, and laughed, and snarled, and made the noises darkspawn usually made.

It never saw her coming when she slammed both blades into its side, puncturing the abdominal wall and piercing organs before twisting to tear at the soft tissue as she kicked it off her blades. She got to work, being the only Grey Wardens present, the darkspawn were drawn to her and Stroud. She moved away from him to draw the darkspawn into two different groups, making it easier for Wynne, Zevran, and Juno to pick them off. It also allowed for a stretch of battlefield where Juno could use area of effect spells.

Fela lashed out with a vicious kick, sending a genlock flying back into the wall of fire that Juno had cast. It shrieked and howled as it burned, adding to the stench of burning darkspawn flesh. Fela grinned subconsciously at he sound, it made something in her blood sing. It might have been the pregnancy hormones, her emotions peaked and flared at the slightest provocation.

Darkspawn trying to kill her, provoked her greatly.

She let her body move on its own, each lethal strike adding to her speed. And _Maker,_ did it feel good. Fela indulged in her rampage, slicing and cutting at everything that moved. By the time it was over she was surrounded by cut up corpses and grinning like a maniac.

Zevran swaggered up to her and threw an arm around her shoulders with an elated laugh.   
“Oh, how I’ve missed watching you work!” he said. He was covertly checking her for any wounds, making sure she was ok and it wasn’t just the adrenaline that kept her standing. When he was satisfied that she was indeed unharmed, he proceeded to wipe the blood off his face and hands.

“I see you have been holding back during sparring sessions,” Stroud said appreciatively, “except for when we observed you and your husband spar.”   
“Wait, is _he_ allowed to _watch!?_ ” Zevran exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Stroud.   
“For educational purposes,” Fela shrugged while she busied herself with cleaning her blades, “I am actively participating in training the Grey Warden recruits.”   
“Does that mean _I_ get to watch?” he asked suggestively.   
“No,” she said flatly.   
“What if I join? _I_ could be your recruit.”

And just like that they went back to their usual banter. Juno observed it with keen interest. It seemed her new Commander made a habit out of bonding with her companions, she obviously had a close bond with the assassin. She could think of no other reason why the Queen was so relaxed in the man’s presence. He flirted with her outrageously, and she took it in stride, never once offended or angered by the elf’s sense of humour. She shot him down, each and every time, but it was good-natured, it seemed part of their dynamic.

The bond with Stroud was good but not as close, which made sense. Zevran had been a companion to her during the Blight. He had been there when she killed the Archdemon. There had been another Warden at her side, but that had been the current King and her husband, Alistair Theirin. Not Jean-Marc Stroud. Wynne had been there too. According to Fela, Wynne was responsible for her survival on numerous occasions. And, not surprisingly, Wynne did kind of fuss over her like a mother hen.

After they had cleaned up, they continued down the road for another few miles before making camp. Juno relaxed into riding a horse while being held steady by the Queen, and enjoyed the scenery.

Everything was so _green._ The sunlight was warm and bright on her fair skin while she listened to the sounds of the surrounding country. How could she ever go back to the Tower after this? No wonder Anders kept escaping. Juno made a decision that day, she would never let herself be locked in a Tower again.

Even if she had to die for it.

* * *

Fela was tired, she was exhausted, pooped, destroyed, sapped.

Her eyes were falling closed even before dinner was ready, and that said a _lot_ considering her general appetite. When she smelled it however, her stomach rumbled almost painfully at the prospect of food. _Nourishment,_ it seemed to say.

Stroud noticed the noise as he was scooping stew into a bowl for her, and added a few extra scoops. She mumbled a quick thanks and tore into her dinner.

“It’s a Grey Warden thing,” he said when he saw Juno watching the display with an arched eyebrow. She shrugged and went back to chatting with Wynne as she waited for her own bowl of stew to be served. After a second, and a third bowl of stew, the Warden Queen crawled into her bedroll, and promptly fell asleep.

While her companions didn’t seem to think there was anything strange about this behaviour, only Zevran was fully aware just how taxing the last few days had been. Stroud probably attributed it to her being sick in the last few days. Wynne knew about the pregnancy of course, but Fela hadn’t shared much with Wynne about her sight. She _did_ with Zevran, who was now also aware that the sleepy Warden ‘had a bun in the oven,’ as Oghren would say.

He watched over her while she slept, sitting between her and the fire as he polished his daggers. Stroud took over when it was his watch, and Zevran put his bedroll on Fela’s other side so she was between the two men. Guarded, protected. She had been sleeping through the night ever since she killed the Archdemon, and Zevran quietly thanked the Maker for that. She needed the rest, she had Goddamn _earned_ it, after all she had done for her country, for all she was _still_ doing.

And if Zevran was correct, his dear Fela was currently experiencing an erotic dream, judging from the quiet sighs and gasps she produced. Pregnancy would do that. She had earned that too.

Over the next day, Fela and Juno got to know each other.

Fela discovered that the girl had a temper, though it wasn’t necessarily easy to spike. She had a morbid sense of humour, bordering on psychotic. Was absolutely _mad_ for cats, though she liked dogs too, Asher in particular. And had apparently decided Fela was her new best friend.

She had tons of questions about Fela’s actions during the Blight, with a particular interest in particularly weird shit like dragon cultists, mad Paragons, sentient trees, talking werewolves and ancient blood mages. Zevran provided commentary as Fela retold the story of how they had killed Flemeth, Wynne corrected him where necessary. He tended to ‘dress up’ certain details. Though it was still amusing, and Fela may have encouraged it a bit.

Fela started to pick up the pace when they got closer to Denerim, eager to get home to Alistair. She dropped off Stroud and Juno at the compound and went straight for the palace. It had been a long week, and Alistair had made her some promises. Wynne and Zevran were happy to retire to their respective quarters to freshen up and rest.

That left Fela free to seek out her husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well if I'm going to continue this story of how Fela rebuilds the Grey Wardens, I need characters, don't I? So why not the other Wardens from the game?


	71. 'Welcome Home'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair has made some promises, he lives up to them. This chapter is just porn.

Fela checked Alistair's office first, and proceeded to their quarters when she found the office empty.

Alistair was wearing the widest smirk when she entered the bedroom, sitting on the bed next to several lengths of silk rope. She arched an eyebrow and looked over him appreciatively.

“Hello, my love,” he said sweetly and beckoned her to come closer.   
“My King,” she said politely and bowed, wearing a teasing smirk with a playful gleam in her eye. Alistair pursed his lips disapprovingly.   
“Is that how you greet your husband?”   
“It is when I’m trying to tease him into using those ropes,” she purred as she started undoing the buckles on her armour, “I’d rather have you fulfil that promise sooner than later.”   
“I keep my promises,” Alistair replied darkly.   
“And you’re a tease,” Fela countered as she let her bracers drop to the floor, “unless I provoke you a little.”   
“Provocation might lead to consequences,” Alistair answered, “once you’re tied up you’ll have no choice but to take it.”   
“I’m counting on it,” she whispered and continued to ease out of her armour while Alistair watched with an amused half-smile on his face. His eyed has darkened, following her movements with an intensity that made heat pool between her legs. It held promises.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said as he watched her kick off her boots and get to work on her cuirass.   
“Naughty thoughts?” she teased. Alistair chuckled.   
“That’s one word for it.”   
“Tell me another,” she purred.   
“Enticing,” he offered.   
“What else?”   
“Filthy,” he replied and watched the cuirass come off. Underneath she wore a thin undershirt that clung close to her body.

“Hmm, you _would_ find filthy thoughts enticing,” she said, “makes me wonder what you have in mind.”   
“You’ll see,” he said lightly and leaned back on the bed.

He wore loose pants and a robe. He’d had plenty of time to change into something more comfortable when he was informed that Fela had been spotted on the West Road. He really had been thinking about her, about how far she would let him take it. What secret pleasures he might uncover. Fela was a remarkably playful and pliable lover, and not at all shy about doing something new or unconventional. Anal sex was one such things. He smiled while he thought of the things he was going to do to her. She liked to be forced into submission, to be dominated. And he was going to do just that.

Fela eased her leggings down her hips, revealing inch after inch of skin. He noticed she bore no wounds, and something within him eased. Her skin was as smooth as when she left, adorned by the familiar lines of old scars of wounds long healed. He knew every single one, had treated more than a few of them. Marked by him, in a way. He wanted to mark her some more.

In a fluid move, she removed her undershirt and let it drop to the floor. She wore no breastband underneath, pert nipples cast small shadows on her breasts in the firelight of the hearth. She let her panties drop around her ankles before stepping out of them and towards him. She rubbed the sides of her breasts, her eyes never leaving his while she slowly approached him.

“Kneel,” Alistair ordered when she stepped in between his thighs. She let her hands creep up his thighs as she obeyed, her tongue darted out between her lips, teasing along her lower lip when Alistair took her wrists.   
“No,” he said and reached for one of the silk ropes. She smiled and bit her lip while he tied her wrists together, looking up at him with quiet anticipation.

Fela expected him to unfasten his trousers, to let her suck him off. But he ordered her to lay on the bed instead.

“Face down,” he said leisurely and got up to tie her wrists to the headboard.

She leaned on her elbows to watch his face as he worked. So carefully composed, delightfully in control. That did nothing to diminish the heat in his gaze as he looked up at her after tying the last knot. Fela pulled at her bindings a little. Tight, but as it was, she could reach the knot that tied her to the headboard. Alistair pulled at her hips to slide a pillow under them before grabbing an ankle and tying it to one of the bedposts. He dragged her down the mattress a bit, far enough that she could no longer reach the knots on the headboard. After tying her other ankle to the other bedpost, he repositioned the pillow, which was now under her belly, to prop her ass a little higher.

Fela was already breathing fast, glancing over her shoulder as Alistair admired his work. He sat on the mattress next to her, fingertips caressing down her spine and down to her tail, where he lingered briefly.

Fela shivered, the heat between her legs growing in urgency. Alistair dipped his fingers lower to brush it along her lips before lightly touching the sensitive nub that could make her squeal. She sighed and ground back a little, earning a sharp slap to her bottom, making her yelp.

“You should know how this works by now,” he said in a low whisper as he stroked the slowly reddening flesh. She cast another look over her shoulder.   
“Maybe I like it,” she challenged. He chuckled low in his throat before striking her again, delighting in the sound she produced, the way her flesh moved.   
“I warned you there’d be consequences.” She let out a wanton moan when he drew slow circles on her pucker, relaxing the tight muscle, making promises of things to come.

He was glad he was wearing loose fitting trousers, the sounds she made were getting him almost painfully hard. But she wasn’t ready yet. Not as ready as he wanted her to be at any rate.

He kissed a trail of searing hot kisses down her spine, teasing her with his fingers ever so gently. He bit the spot where her lower back curved into a buttock, earning a high-pitched moan. He lightly kissed the teeth marks before slapping her behind once more and reaching for a box on the nightstand. Fela watched with eager eyes as he produced a bottle of oil, and several glass toys in different sizes.

“You’ve been shopping,” she said teasingly, anticipation bubbling up through her chest and making her voice unsteady.   
“These aren’t easy to get by, you know,” he replied, “not if you want a discreet seller.”   
“When did you become interested in the sex toy market?” He replied by smacking her behind again.   
“When my wife turned out to be a depraved little slut.”   
“Caught on, did you? _Ah_!” Alistair slapped her again.   
“Please shut up,” he said, “or I’ll have to gag you and you’ll _really_ have no choice but to take it.”

She glared up at him and licked her lips, but remained quiet. Her breath caught when he took the bottle of oil and let a few drops fall on her bare ass. He moved to sit between her thighs to massage the oil into her skin, playing and teasing around her asshole with one hand and teasing her clit with the other. Her thighs were wet with her own juices already, and she couldn’t keep her moans down while he played with her. Alistair was sending jolts of pleasure through her centre, making her clench and unclench her fists under his ministrations in order to keep still. He dipped his fingers into her heat to moisten her clit as he continued with small circular strokes.

He reached for the first toy, both of his hands briefly leaving her while he coated it in oil.

She keened at the loss, moving her hips back in an attempt to find contact and earning another slap instead. She gasped when she felt the glass tip of the toy press against her asshole and let out a pleasured groan when it slid inside. Smooth, made to stretch her with a minimum of discomfort. She could feel her pussy clench with anticipation and arousal, certain she felt a drop of her honey slide down her lips where Alistair used it to continue rubbing her clit. It might have been oil, perhaps both, Alistair had been generous with it.

She bit her own arm at the assault of pleasurable stimulation when he slowly pressed the toy deeper inside, stretching her further until he had reached the point where the plug shaped object dipped to a smaller diameter. Now firmly in place, Alistair started gently moving it. Gentle presses, a slight tug to see the clear material peek out of the small hole before pressing it back in.

Fela lost herself in it, this surpassed every fantasy she had secretly harboured during her trip to Kinloch Hold. It got her so hot, so quickly, she thought she might come from the moving of the toy alone. Her body sang and tingled with pleasure, the slight pressure of the toy inside her making her whimper and sigh.

When he finally slipped a finger inside her pussy she nearly screamed as he started stroking in and out of her. Fela strained against her bonds, pleasure taking her and making her writhe and twist under Alistair’s touch. He was going to drive her mad, she knew it for sure this time. He would keep assaulting her until her mind shattered with the release he was going to deny her until she couldn’t take any more.

He had promised he would fuck her until she wept.

When he was satisfied with stretching her with the first toy, he took it out and reached for the second. Slightly bigger, but not by much. Alistair repeated the process of coating it in oil and slowly easing it inside, careful not to hurt her or go too fast.

They were playing that game, yes, but Alistair didn’t want to hurt her in that way. That’s what the spanking was for. No, this, he wanted her to enjoy. Because it got him throbbing at the mere sight of her pleasure. How she was enjoying something supposedly taboo, something dirty and wrong, tied up and soaking wet. And, _Maker,_ did it feel wonderful to fuck that tight little asshole, but it had to be done right for it to be enjoyable for both of them.

So he went slow, let Fela take her time to get used to the size before he started moving, familiarising her with the sensations she so shamelessly enjoyed. She was his, completely and utterly his, at his mercy. She was rocking back and forth against the toy on her own now, hands balled into fists in the sheets, toes dug into the matrass to brace herself. Alistair watched the tight ring of muscle stretch and widen each time he pulled back, the sight of the o-shape doing all kinds of things to him. Meanwhile he kept playing with her pussy, stroking, rubbing, teasing. She was already close to an orgasm, he could tell by the way she quivered around his fingers each time he slipped inside.

Alistair took the third toy, once again coating it in oil and replacing the second. Pressing it in until it was all the way inside. He let Fela control the pace as she pressed herself back against his hand, holding the toy. When she had reached the narrow base, he stood and chuckled at her whimpering.

She felt exposed, tied up and ass up in the air with a toy inside it, with Alistair having a perfect view from the foot of the bed. It was an arousing sight, his formidable wife in a position like that. Splayed out and ready for him. He let his robe and the pants he wore fall to the ground and crawled back onto the bed. Fela gasped when she felt his weight settle between her thighs. He leaned over her to kiss the back of her neck after brushing her hair aside. He could feel the heat radiating off her skin without touching it, he whispered filth in her ear while he let his cock slide between her oiled butt cheeks. She pressed up against him eagerly looking for more contact.

“Please,” she whispered, “oh, please, please, _please._ ” Alistair chuckled.   
“Please, what?” he asked while he pressed his cock down harder, sliding it up and down the length of her crack.   
“ _Fuck_ me,” she sighed, “please!”

Alistair used a hand to move himself against her entrance, she whimpered when he rubbed his tip along her lips to find her clit. She ground back against him with a strangled moan. Alistair bit down on the back of her neck when he finally let himself slip into her. Groaning at the tight, wet heat of her pussy. At how unbelievably good she felt around his rock hard cock. He wasted no time on teasing and playing this time.

He worked up to a steady rhythm, listening to Fela’s moans and cries that accompanied each thrust. Taking her for his own pleasure, which isn’t to say he forgot about hers. It just so happened that Fela liked to be in a submissive role for her to chafe at, so she could challenge him and fight him a little. Just a little.

He gripped her hip with one of his hands as he moved inside her, using the other arm to prop himself up on one elbow. He sank his teeth into her shoulder as he moved faster, making her cry out louder. She dug her knees and elbows into the mattress to find purchase, moving her hips back against his with feverish urgency. The feeling of him filling her, pressing against her inner walls send pleasure trickling through her body. It made her fists clench, it made her toes curl, it made her pussy squeeze him tight. Each thrust stroked that sweet spot deep inside, the angle _just_ right.

“Yes,” she panted, “yes, yes, _yes!_ ”

Alistair slowed down, pulling back until it was just the tip inside her. Fela cast an exasperated look over her shoulder to see Alistair smirking at her before he slapped her behind.

“Not yet love,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

Fela whimpered underneath him, rolling her hips in an attempt to find more friction or make him continue, her pleasure slowly ebbing while her heart still thundered in her chest. Alistair kissed the teeth marks on her shoulder and neck while he waited.

He wouldn’t let her come yet, not until she was begging for release, and then he would take her up her ass. Fela bared her teeth when he started moving again, caught up in the motions and the sensations that came with it, grinding up against him in a shameless offer, inviting him to go deeper. Alistair got up on his knees to grasp her hips with both hands while he took her. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh was barely still audible over Fela’s moans, it made him smile possessively, knowing _he_ was doing that to her. Making her produce those sounds, sounds she shared with nobody but him.

Not since they stopped sleeping in a tent anyway.

Fela strained against her bonds as her body tensed up again, and once more, Alistair pulled back. She looked over her shoulder again, cheeks flushed and eyes half lidded.

“ _Alistair!_ ” she snapped. He replied with a slap to her behind that made her squeal.   
“I said, not yet.”

When she moved to find more contact he slapped her again, pressed one hand to her lower back to keep her down, and one against the toy in her ass. She growled at the sensation, but it wasn’t enough to make her come. She could feel one of her legs start to shake when Alistair focussed his attention on the toy. He reached for the bottle of oil again to lubricate her, pulling back on the toy to stretch her around the widest point and kept it there, one finger tracing the muscle in a circle, to let her know how wide he was stretching her. When he gently started to move the toy, she bucked and shouted a string of curses and blasphemies. Not in pain, it was turning her on so much she felt like she might burst with pleasure. But Alistair wouldn’t let her. She was throbbing on his cock, still inside her pussy but not moving.

“Alistair, _please!_ ” she whimpered. He ignored it. Continuing to play with her ass while he held still.

He waited for the quivering and clenching around his cock to stop before he slowly started moving again, this time moving the toy as well as his cock. She screamed, pressing her face down in the mattress and lifting her ass just a little higher for him, wanting more. He continued in a steady rhythm, revelling in her cries, the way her leg twitched, the desperate sound coming from her throat. He could keep her on the edge here, so close but just not quite enough to bring her to climax. Her pleas and curses became incoherent gibberish, she pulled on her bonds so hard, she had probably chafed the skin on her wrists and ankles.

And then he took the toy out.

He licked his lips while he admired the o-shaped hole, about half an inch wide, and ran a finger along the edge of it to watch her contract and relax. He reached for the bottle of oil again, coating his cock with a generous amount of the stuff before pressing his tip against her stretched asshole. She made a deep, growling noise when he pressed past the tight ring of muscle and pressed back against him, eager to take him in. Alistair groaned.

“ _O_ _h,_ yes, love,” he whispered, “just like that.”

Fela’s reply was another wanton moan and a twitch of her hips that nearly had him lose his control and rut her like a common whore. Which she might not mind, but if he lost control now, he would hurt her. They hadn’t been doing this for long enough to get rough with it, not this, not yet.

Oh, but how she loved it, the way she writhed under him and struggled against her bonds. It was a good thing he had tied her to the bed, she never would have let him drag it out this long. He slowly worked himself inside the tight hole, felt it slowly stretching to accommodate him. He watched himself disappear inside her, listened to her moan and growl with pleasure and impatience.

He closed his eyes once he was fully seated inside her, savouring the feeling. Last time they did this, it ended all too quickly. Fela hadn’t been tied up. But she was now, giving him even more control than usual.

He started slow, moving with care and precision. Waiting for her to relax and get used to the feeling of his dick inside her ass. She whimpered and mewled under his movements, taking it all too eagerly. A blush coloured her cheeks, his handprints were red on her ass, sweat beaded on her back and forehead. Her eyes were half closed and her mouth slightly open, producing the most wonderful sounds.

He leaned over her again, to be able to press in deep and nuzzle the nape of her neck. She almost purred at the contact, angling her hips so he could plunge down into her. Alistair gasped at the angle, it allowed him to sink into her until he felt his balls press against the bottom of her ass. She let out a high, uncontrolled cry each time he did. It might as well have been the singing of angels to Alistair.

He drowned in the sound of it, soon letting his body move on its own, Fela’s cries spurning him on.

Fela could have sworn her eyes rolled back in her skull when one of Alistair’s hands snaked around her throat. She knew he wouldn’t choke her, but that wasn’t the point. He had her in such a vulnerable position, she couldn’t move, and neither did she want to.

 _Maker_ he felt good, in charge of her body and everything that happened to it, buried deep inside her. The hand around her throat was another testament that he could do whatever he wanted to her, and she would like it too.

Her pussy throbbed while Alistair fucked her ass, and she desperately wished she had one hand free to rub herself. He pressed her into the mattress with his body, pinning her down in a position that submitted her to him even further as he drove into her. His free hand stroked the side of her breast, down her side, along her hip, took a handful of her ass and squeezed.

When he moved his hand around to rub her clit she let out a moan that came out as a sob. He bit down on her neck again, as if in victory. His movements became more urgent, seeking more friction, more of her, more of that hot tightness that clung around his cock, sucking him back in each time he pulled back.

Fela’s mind went blank as she felt her body tighten around him, starting deep inside where the head of his dick rubbed along her inner walls, and out through her abdomen, up her chest, to the crown of her head, and down her limbs. Her voice failed her when she went over the edge, her body shook as the orgasm tore through her.

Alistair bit down harder, fucked her with long frantic strokes before he lost himself inside her. The growl that tore from his throat was downright animalistic, and Fela could feel his seed pumping into her with the throbbing of his cock. She groaned in satisfaction.

She keened when he slipped out and rolled off of her and onto his side, leaving her empty.

He proceeded to untie her, taking an elfroot salve and treating the wounds the chafing ropes had caused when she pulled on them. Fela lay in a boneless heap as he did so, sighing contently at the relief the elfroot salve brought to her burning wrists and ankles. He handed her a towel to clean the mess between her legs, and gathered her up in his arms before he pulled a blanket over them.

“Welcome home honey,” Alistair whispered.   
“I missed you,” she whispered back sleepily.   
“I missed you too,” he replied and kissed the top of her head. She snuggled a little closer and sighed.   
“It’s good to be home.”   
“Yes it is, so don’t you even think about leaving again,” he replied playfully.   
“I won’t be going anywhere for a while yet,” she whispered, smiling against his neck.   
“Good,” he whispered back, “I like that.”   
“Me too,” she replied.

“Zevran knows I’m pregnant by the way,” she added after a brief pause. Alistair frowned a little.   
“How did that happen?”   
“Morning sickness and an aversion to fish, apparently,” she said sheepishly, “I couldn’t exactly hide that.”   
“And your boobs, right?” Alistair asked knowingly.   
“And my boobs, yes, he said they look great,” Fela replied with a chuckle.   
“Your boobs were my first clue too,” he admitted. Fela chuckled again.   
“I am not at all surprised.”   
“They _did_ get bigger,” he protested, cupping one with his hand.

“You do spend enough time with your face buried between them that you would notice the slightest change,” she countered and giggled when he poked her side.   
“You like tits too, just admit it,” Alistair teased.   
“Boobs are the best,” Fela affirmed, “the world needs more boobs.”   
“Is that a royal decree?”   
“How would we enforce _that?_ ”   
“I don’t know, maybe… draw them on stuff?”   
“I already went through that phase, followed by the penis drawing phase.”   
“Haha- _What!?_ ”   
“What? Every kid does it, didn’t you?”   
“Well… ok, yes I did.”   
“As a kid right?”   
“ _Yes!_ What the fuck Fela?”   
“Just checking.”   
“Will ours?”   
“Probably.”   
“That’s great, that’ll be an hilarious phase.”   
“Yeah, right until they start drawing them on formal documents and crap.”   
“Still funny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out it was also fluff.


	72. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno is introduced to the other recruits. Shortly after, Nate joins them too.

Juno felt exhausted.

Her legs, bottom, and back burned with the strain of riding for the past few days. She followed Warden Stroud as he showed her around the compound, pointing out the training yard, the mess hall, the baths, library, the healer’s office, the senior Warden’s office, and finally, the living quarters for the recruits.

Juno’s eyes went wide when he showed her to her room, was she getting an _entire_ room? All to herself? No bunkmates? No prying eyes and wide ears? Even when she made Enchanter, she had to share her quarters. _Never_ had she had a place all to herself, where she could be alone. Where she had _privacy._ A concept completely alien to her up until now.

“If you’d like, I could give you a moment to clean up and take you to meet the other recruits,” Stroud said as she admired the large windows that let in the sunlight. The Tower didn’t have any windows.   
“Yes,” she said as she turned with a bright smile on her face, “I would very much like that.”

Stroud nodded to her and took his leave. Juno looked at the large bed longingly for a moment, but if she laid down now, she wouldn’t get up again until morning. So she shrugged off her travel worn robes and made for the washbasin. There were baths here too, _actual_ baths, with warm water you could lay back and relax in. At the Tower, the best they had were cold water showers. By now she wasn’t used to anything else, but the prospect of a real bath was an alluring one.

She dressed in clean clothes, taking a tunic and a pair of leggings she found in the wardrobe instead of the Tower robes. The tossed those into a corner.

 _Fuck_ the Circle Tower.

The leggings were a bit long for her, and the tunic was too big. But she didn’t care, she didn’t want to present herself as a Circle mage anymore. So she tugged the leggings into her boots and fastened a sash around her waist. She rolled up the sleeves over her elbows, satisfied that she no longer looked like a child in adult’s clothes, she combed out her auburn hair and pulled it into a high ponytail.

Stroud soon returned, having washed up and changed clothes as well, to take her to the common room where she could meet the other recruits. The common room was cosy, plush chairs and a large sofa arranged around a hearth, thick carpets on the floor, a large table in one corner and more seats and a coffee table in another.

“Well hello,” said an elven man in a sing-song-y voice, standing as she entered and giving her a deep bow.   
“Lay off, would you,” said a dark-haired elven woman sitting to his left, cleaning a pair of daggers, “she _just_ got here.”   
“I am simply giving our newest colleague a warm welcome,” said the young man and he flashed a charming smile. Next to her, Juno heard Stroud let out a deep sigh. He watched the exchanged with a blank look, but she didn’t miss the amused twinkle in his eye.   
“I don’t think _your_ idea of a warm welcome is going to make her feel at home,” replied a large man, lounging back in a chair, probably a warrior, “like she is at a tavern, being hit on by an over-eager stranger, maybe.”

The elf rolled his eyes.   
“Ignore these idiots,” he said as he turned back to Juno, “they have about as much manners between them as my little toe and its neighbour do. Daeharice Tabris,” he said with a flourish, “though I usually go by Dan.” He stretched out a hand for her to shake, she took it.   
“Juno Amell, most recently of Kinloch Hold’s Tower of Magi,” she said honestly, “though I think I am currently somewhere between apostate and Circle mage.” Dan chuckled.   
“Yeah? What did you do?” Juno arched an eyebrow.   
“I agreed to accept the Commander’s offer,” she said slowly, then narrowed her eyes, “why, what did _you_ do?” Dan threw up his hands.   
“The Commander liked my sticky fingers!” That elicited more than one choked laugh, a gasp, and a groan from Stroud.   
“Not like _that!_ ” Dan exclaimed, “sheez, and you say _I’m_ the randy one. Dirty minded creeps, the lot of you, she’s married.”   
“And your Commander, and your _Queen,_ ” said a tall woman with an exasperated gesture. Dan shrugged.   
“And _drop-dead-gorgeous,_ what am I supposed to do, pretend I’ve gone suddenly blind? Anyway,” he turned back to Juno, “I’m a thief. The Commander figured I have some skills that aren’t easy to find, and she could put them to good use.”   
“Did she?” Juno asked curiously.   
“We’ve been on a couple of raids, so yeah, I think she did. But who knows what else is in store in the foreseeable future? This is Daena,” the dark haired elven woman gave her a polite nod. “Rory,” he pointed at the large man who gave her a nod too. “And Mhairi,” Dan said and pointed at the human woman that had been scolding him.

“Pleased to meet you,” Juno said as she scanned her new colleagues faces.

“So,” she said, dragging out the word as she evaluated their expressions, “have any of you guys met a mage before?” Daena and Rory nodded, Mhairi looked a little apprehensive, and Dan looked excited.   
“Alright,” Juno continued, “if you have any questions about my magic, please tell me so I can answer them. I’d rather not have to guess your thoughts on the matter.” Stroud stepped up.   
“Enchanter Amell is a harrowed mage, she is a veteran of the Blight, and has proven herself capable. There will be no Templar supervision here, she doesn’t need it, and I ask that you respect that,” his eyes lingered on Mhairi, who quickly looked away.   
“The Grey Wardens have always had mages in their ranks, this is no exception,” Stroud finished and put a hand on Juno’s shoulder. She flinched, but quickly regained her composure.   
“Now, I will leave you to get to know each other, I will see you all in the morning for drills,” and with that, he left the recruits in the common room and retired for the evening.

“So, Juno,” Dan began, “may I call you Juno?”   
“Sure.”   
“What crazy twists and turns had you caught up in the Blight and recruited into the Grey Wardens?” he asked and gestured for Juno to sit while he poured what she assumed was a glass of wine.   
“Firepower,” she said, “the Commander likes high flames and big explosions.”   
“Ah,” Dan said with a nod, “high flames and big explosions are the _best_. And experienced in fighting darkspawn too?” Juno nodded again.   
“After the Commander saved the Circle Tower during the Blight, we joined forces with her. As a means of training, the senior Enchanters would take us to patrol the roads where smaller bands of darkspawn would hinder travel. Before she got ready to march, we mages were stationed at Redcliffe with the Dwarven forces. It was attacked by the horde after she deposed Loghain, before the battle of Denerim.”

“Wait,” Daena spoke up, “you were in Redcliffe during the siege?”   
“Yes.”   
“And you use fire? like huge torrents of it, burning the fuckers coming up on the hillside by the mill to crisps?”   
“Among other things, yes.”   
“That was _you!?_ ” Daena exclaimed, “ _Maker_ , she held off a massive force!” she said as she turned to her companions.   
“You were there?” Juno asked curiously.   
“I was inside that mill,” Daena explained, “but I was… in no condition to fight up close and personal. Shot a few of them though, those that managed to get close enough.” Juno let out an elated laugh.   
“No way! I always wondered who had my back in that fight, all I could tell was that it was an archer that was probably inside the mill. Though I was too busy to check.”

Rory looked between the two women.   
“So, you know each other… but you didn’t know you knew, because you didn’t know who each other was?” Daena rolled her eyes.   
“It says much that I can make sense of that mangled wreck of a sentence. Yes, pretty much.” He chuckled.   
“Small world.”

“What about you guys?” Juno asked, “were you all recruited by the Commander?”   
“In some way or another,” Daena replied, “I met her in Redcliffe during the Blight, I was a spy in Arl Eamon Guerin’s service. Met her after escaping the prison of one of her enemies, she wanted information on how I had done it. And then she offered me a job.” Dan nudged Daena’s side.   
“This crazy bitch here escaped from _Arl_ _Rendon_ _Howe’s_ dungeon, have you heard of him?” Juno nodded.   
“Who hasn’t?”   
“Real sick motherfucker,” Rory mumbled from his chair, “Commander told me he had a secret passage leading from his bedroom, into his _dungeon._ ”   
“He did,” Daena said stiffly, “can we please move on from that particular topic?”

She fumbled nervously with a loose threat on her sleeve, and Juno noticed how scarred her hands were. Daena had been tortured, she concluded, scars like that don’t happen in a regular fight, not that many, not like _that_. The other recruits all nodded their consent, unbeknownst to Juno, Daena had set some very clear rules and boundaries surrounding her history during the Blight. She didn’t like to be reminded of her time in that dungeon, and she didn’t like being asked about it. Neither had she told any of them about her daughter, the daughter she had borne a few months after her escape.

“I myself,” Dan said, lightly directing the conversation away from Daena, “was trying to defend the Alienage here in Denerim during the battle. Watched her go through darkspawn like they were paper dolls as soon as she got there. I only met her way after, cutting the purse of a noble that was boring her with utterly uninteresting conversation while she was trying to get to this smithy, Wade’s Emporium, do you know it? it has _awesome_ stuff. Anyway, she catches me doing it, I freeze, and instead of alerting the noble, she smiled and distracted him with some more utterly uninteresting conversation while I relieved the man of all that troublesome weight in his purse. I think it amused her to watch the guy being robbed of his gold while he robbed her of her time. She came to the Market District with Warden Stroud a while after to recruit me. Rory over there was in the battle of Denerim too,” he pointed at the large man and grinned, “his story is even better.”

“It is?” Juno asked, “do tell?” 

“I was at the Eastern Gate,” Rory said, “and I may have cleaved an ogre up his nut sack to keep him from crushing Arl Eamon Guerin. Commander thinks it’s hilarious.”   
“He also goes through darkspawn forces like they are delicate little flowers,” Dan added, “big man, big axe, big carnage.” Rory shrugged.   
“I like to hit things.”   
“Who doesn’t?” Dan said brightly and turned to Mhairi.

“I was at Ostagar when the King fell,” the tall dark-haired woman prompted, “I spend the Blight running and fighting. I volunteered when I heard the Commander had started to rebuild. I know that sounds a little boring in comparison, but there it is.”   
“You’re too modest,” Rory said, “you were a soldier, and you survived Loghain’s betrayal at Ostagar. You’ve got skill Mhairi, the Commander wouldn’t have accepted you if you didn’t.”   
“You were there? With the King and the Grey Wardens, or…” Juno began.   
“I was one of those Loghain abandoned to be slaughtered, fighting alongside the King and the Grey Wardens,” Mhairi clarified, “about half of Ferelden’s forces were lost in that battle.”

“Mhairi doesn’t like to brag,” Dan clarified, “she’s humble like that. But she fought tooth and nail to survive and escape that battlefield. Don’t let her fool you, she’s awesome.” Mhairi chuckled at that.   
“Thanks guys, but I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”   
“Say you’re awesome and we’re done,” Rory said challengingly.   
“Fine, I’m awesome,” Mhairi said as she crossed her arms, “you’re done.”

* * *

Fela awoke in the middle of the night for the first time in nine months that night.

“Alistair,” she whispered, nudging his shoulder with her own, “Alistair.” He sucked in a sharp breath when he woke up.   
“I’m awake,” he said sleepily and clearly a little confused, “whazzit? something wrong?” Fela untangled herself a little to look at him in the darkness. Moonlight barely illuminating his features.   
“Nothing is wrong, my love,” she whispered, “everything is fine.”   
“Why’d you wake me up then?” he groaned and moved to roll onto his back.   
“Morrigan,” she said, “she just went into labour.”

He shot upright, nearly hitting Fela in the jaw with his shoulder.   
“ _N_ _ow!?_ ” he asked, “as of _this_ moment?”   
“Yes,” she replied after dodging the incoming shoulder, “I thought you’d want to know.”   
“I-… yes,” he stammered.   
“Are you alright?” Fela asked, putting a hand on his shoulder to pull him back down with her.   
“I don’t know,” he confessed after a brief pause, he was still sorting out what was happening in his mind. It was racing, all over the place, frantic.   
“They’ll be alright,” Fela said softly, “she knows how to take care of herself, and Urthemiel.” Alistair nodded as he let himself lower back into the pillows.   
“I don’t know how to feel,” he confessed.   
“That’s not surprising, considering the circumstances,” Fela said sheepishly, “even weirder that you had to hear it from me,” she added while putting her hand on her stomach.

Alistair let out a desperate chuckle.   
“I am willing to bet gold, that no one has ever been in this precise situation before. Old God baby, apostate mother, both of whom I will never see. Not that I mind I won’t ever see Morrigan again, but it’s still my child… And I worry.”   
“Of course you do,” she replied, “and you’ll worry for a while longer, all parents do.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek tenderly.

“You’re a father now,” she whispered, “a little earlier than we’ll tell people, that’s just between us, but you’re a father nonetheless.”

Alistair drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. It was all wrong, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He’d never hold his first child, his _son._ His baby was being born somewhere far away from where he lay in his bed holding his pregnant _wife_. He focussed on breathing slowly, reminding himself that Fela did not consider his part in the ritual a betrayal. She was actually happy for him, in a way. She was sad too, on his behalf. Fela was in his arms, holding him and trying to console him in this strange moment. She was pregnant, carrying his baby. They had both agreed to the price to have a shot at this. And it was worth every second of it.

“You’re allowed to be happy you know,” Fela whispered in his ear, “you’ll have a son, how could you not be?” She kissed his temple before continuing.   
“It’s not how you imagined it, nor is it how you wanted it. But you’ll love that boy until the day you die.”   
“How do you know?” he asked, finding himself slowly calming at her words and soothing touch.   
“I know you,” she whispered.

He smiled, resting his cheekbone against her forehead. She’d stand by him through anything, even fathering a bastard with a woman she called a friend. She said he was her rock, but she was his.

He pulled her close and turned his head to be able to kiss her. She let one of her hands rest on his neck tenderly, running her thumb along his jaw.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips. She felt his smile when he kissed her.   
“I love you too,” he whispered back, “and thank you.”   
“Anything for you, daddy,” she replied innocently. Alistair broke into snorty laughter at that.   
“Oho _no_ , now you’ve ruined it.”   
“I wouldn’t know what you are talking about,” she continued in the same smooth innocent tones.   
“You start calling me ‘daddy’ during sex and I swear I’ll gag you, woman,” he threatened. She giggled bashfully and kissed him on the lips teasingly.   
“Well, now that I know that, you should start looking for something proper to gag me with.”   
“How would you feel if I called you ‘mommy’ during sex?” he said sternly. She frowned.   
“Now _you’ve_ ruined it.”   
“See? Not so funny. Now, where do we stand on the gag?”

* * *

“Hello again, ‘ _Commander,’_ ” Nate said scathingly when he recognised Fela’s footfall, “have you decided what to do with me yet?”

“That depends,” Fela replied when she stopped in front of Nate’s cell, ever faithful Mabari flopping down next to her while still managing to look menacing.

“Have you decided whether am I conscripting you?” He remained silent, stubbornly so, and Fela sighed.   
“Fine, you are hereby conscripted into the Grey Wardens,” she said, “are you going to behave if I open the door?” she jingled the keys in front of her. The hound made a low gruff-ing sound, close to a growl.

“You’re serious,” he said as he looked at the keys, “you’re _actually serious?_ ”   
“Yes,” Fela said patiently, “I’m serious.” Nate shook his head.   
_“Why?”_ he asked, “why would you risk it?”   
“You are Nathaniel Howe,” she said with a shrug, “not Rendon Howe.”   
“And?”   
“And what?”   
“Aren’t you going to ask me whether I’m going to try to kill you again?” he asked. Fela shrugged again.   
“We already went over that, and unless you want to die, I don’t think you would honestly admit it anyway. _Do_ you want to die?” Nate didn’t answer the question, but he didn’t really need to anyway.

“It’s simple,” Fela said, “you follow your orders and leave me well enough alone. You so much as draw a table knife on me, and I’ll stab you in the face with it. Clear?”   
“Crystal,” Nate sneered.   
“Good,” Fela said, and opened the door.

“I’m taking you to the compound where you can have a proper rest and bathe. You’re meeting your fellow recruits and the senior Wardens this afternoon.”   
“Understood,” he said stiffly, still uncertain what the Warden Queen was up to.

He had been thinking about her proposal for over a week now, and some part of him kept whispering she was playing at something. That it was a trap of some kind.

But why go through all the trouble? If she wanted him dead, he would have been rotting in the ground by now. He still couldn’t figure out what she gained from it, he didn’t buy into her excuse that she’d rather use his skill than let it go to waste. And why she trusted him not to try to kill her again was beyond him, if things had been reversed, he wouldn’t have taken any chances.

He went where the well-armoured woman pointed and walked ahead of her and her Mabari out of the dungeon, they collected a sack of his things, and they stepped out into the morning sun.

Nate’s eyes stung, it had been a while since he had seen light this bright. He noticed his hands were pale when he used them to shield his eyes. Fela didn’t rush him to move along, she simply waited until he could see well enough to take in his surroundings. Some inner courtyard, nothing noteworthy, no prying eyes either. Except for the guards. Once Fela saw Nate starting to look at his surroundings, she concluded his eyes had adjusted to the light well enough.

“This way,” she said and gestured for Nate to keep going. She didn’t feel comfortable turning her back to him, he observed, she always kept him within her sights, as did the hound that watched him with keen eyes. No doubt looking for any sign of aggression so he could rip Nate’s throat out.

Fela didn’t speak to him while they walked, nor did she react when two guards fell into step behind them upon leaving the inner courtyard. He wondered if she had guards following her wherever she went all the time now. She didn’t before he got caught anyway. Excepting the Mabari. 

She kept her silence on the way to the Grey Warden compound, and Nate was content to leave it that way. Focussing his gaze ahead and keeping his face blank making sure to look as unthreatening as possible.

The Grey Warden compound wasn’t as impressive as Nate had expected. Though he wasn’t quite sure what he had expected. Cobalt blue banners blowing in the wind and griffons circling towers while roaring epic battle cries? Hardly. It was just a keep. There were some banners, but nothing more than necessary to make the building recognisable as the Grey Warden headquarters in Denerim.

They were met at the front door by Warden Stroud, an Orlesian Chevalier with an impressive moustache. Fela explained Stroud was currently her second, and that Nate would be answering to the senior Warden from now on. Just as well, things would be easier that way. Fela Cousland, no wait, Fela _Theirin_ , the Goddamn _Queen_ and ‘ _Hero’_ of Ferelden, still triggered a lot of… _complex_ , thought and emotion.

He couldn’t seem to keep from sneering and snarling whenever she was within earshot, venom practically oozing from his body in the form of words. She might tolerate that now, on account of her murdering his father for murdering her family and him being in her dungeon after coming to kill her, they had some complicated history, but she wouldn’t tolerate it forever.

Fela left Nate with Stroud, big scary hound trudging after her, to take care of some other business while Stroud showed him to his new quarters.

Nothing fancy, a bed, a desk, a wardrobe and a washbasin. But it was a hell of a lot better than that dank cell he woke up in this morning. So, after thanking Stroud, he eagerly got ready to wash up. Glad to find some clothes in the wardrobe. Again, it was nothing special, a Grey Warden tunic and pants. But it was better than what he wore now, especially after being in jail for a few months.

Nate was surprised to find no guards outside his door or under his window. He had been arrested after sneaking into the Royal Palace with the intention to kill the King’s betrothed. He had expected to be watched during each and every second of the day, but for all his efforts, he couldn’t detect anyone watching him. That didn’t mean there was nobody there however. If there had truly been as many attempts on their lives during the Blight as the stories would have him believe, current King and Queen would have every right to be downright paranoid.

As things stood however, Nate was pleasantly surprised. He was being treated with a modicum of respect, which was more than he had expected. He had expected to be treated like a criminal, like a bomb waiting to go off, a mad dog one bite away from being put down. But this wasn’t the case.

The Grey Wardens take all kinds, after all.

* * *

Fela found Daena in the common room where she was reading a book by the hearth, she was so absorbed in the story she didn’t notice her Commander coming in.

“Good book?” Fela asked, startling Daena, who closed her book self-consciously and covered the cover with her hands.   
“Commander,” she said with a nod and stood, “I didn’t hear you enter.” Fela motioned for Daena to be at ease.   
“I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment, there is something we need to discuss.”   
“Of course, Commander,” Daena replied politely.   
“Let’s save the ‘Commander’ bit for when there are other people present. I’m here to talk as one woman to another right now.”

“Alright,” Daena said slowly, “what did you want to speak about?”   
“A new recruit,” Fela said, “and I feel I should give you a heads up on this one in particular.”   
“Why?” Daena asked.

Fela sat down across from Daena and rubbed her forehead, looking for words. Asher put his head in her lap supportively, earning gentle petting. She was unsure on how to approach this issue and the dog picked up on it.

On one hand, she wanted to protect Daena from reliving any trauma she sustained in Howe’s dungeon. But on the other, she couldn’t afford to let an asset like Nate walk on behalf of another recruit. Neither did Daena have any say in who got recruited. But that didn’t mean she would ignore the effect the decision to conscript Nate might have on her.

“Before I tell you why, I need you to understand that I’ve put a lot of thought into recruiting this man, and that I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t trust him. To some extend at least,” Fela added darkly. Daena nodded slowly.   
“Alright, not one you recruited lightly.”   
“No, in fact, this one came to Denerim to kill me,” Fela admitted.   
“Obviously he didn’t get very far,” Daena replied.   
“No he did not,” she answered, “and I trust that he won’t try again. But that isn’t the issue.”

Daena kept her face carefully composed. In truth, she was very confused about what her Commander was trying to tell her. She had recruited a guy that came to Denerim to kill her, which was… really weird. But apparently she put a lot of thought into it and she trusted the man, for whatever reason, not to try again. Fair enough. If Fela said it was ok, then it was ok. So why did she seek her out to tell her about this guy before she met him?

“His name is Nathaniel,” Fela began, “you’ve never met him, but I’ve known him since childhood. We weren’t exactly friends, but we knew each other quite well. He was abroad during the Blight, and returned when he learned that I killed his father.”   
“Ok,” Daena said, dragging out the first letter, “do you want me to keep an eye on him?”   
“He’s Rendon Howe’s son,” Fela finally said.

 _Ah_ , _so_ that’s _why_.

Daena leaned back in her chair and stared at Fela for a moment.   
“Well… that’s awkward,” she said flatly after a brief silence.   
“Yeah…” Fela replied sheepishly.   
“Does he know?” Daena asked.   
“Does he know what kind of sick fuck his father was?” Fela asked rhetorically, “deep down somewhere… maybe… Though at the moment, his grief and the fact that he has been away for nearly five years cloud his vision. I didn’t bother telling him much, coming from me, he would only take it as slander and lies anyway. He resents me for it, naturally. But I don’t think he is like his father, he never was.”   
“What do you mean?” Daena asked.   
“Nate could be gentle,” Fela said, “we pretty much hated each other when we were kids, but he _could_ be kind. He was fiercely protective of his little brother and sister, took them under his wing and shielded them from his father. He was good to people. His father never was. He always said that Nate was too soft because he didn’t delight in other people’s pain. That he wasn’t a real man because he preferred a bow to a sword. That his eldest son was a disappointment and that he’d rather outlive his own son than let him inherit.”   
“Damn…” Daena whispered.   
“Yeah,” Fela replied darkly, “Rendon Howe was all kinds of cruel. But he was still Nate’s father.”

“So, where does that leave us?” Daena asked, “are you asking me not to kill him or something?” Fela chuckled a little and shook her head.   
“No, no of course not. I was _worried_ about you.”   
“ _Me?_ ” Daena asked with a raised eyebrow.   
“Yes,” Fela said, “because he is the son of the man that imprisoned and tortured you for months.” Daena frowned before she spoke.

“You said he was abroad for the last five years.”   
“He was,” Fela nodded.   
“So he didn’t have anything to do with his father’s hobbies, right?” Daena continued.   
“No I don’t believe so,” Fela replied, “he is truly shocked by the stories he’s heard, he doesn’t want to believe them. He didn’t know.”   
“You are certain?” Daena asked pointedly.   
“Yes,” Fela said with a nod.   
“Then I don’t have a problem with him,” Daena said with a shrug.

“What if he talks about his father in your presence?” Fela asked, “what if he starts claiming his father was a victim? That I killed him in cold blood out of selfish greed and perverse amusement?” That last bit about the perverse amusement was a little true, though. But she knew Daena was the last person to hold that against her after what he did to her.

Daena paused, Fela had a good point. She could barely stand her colleagues asking about her time in Howe’s dungeon and the months after. If this new guy started to defend his father…

“I think, the other recruits would help,” she finally said. Fela looked surprised.   
“They will?” Daena nodded.   
“They know I was in Howe’s dungeon, and they know I don’t like to talk about it. They respect that. I think they may have drawn some conclusions on their own,” Daena held up her hands. Fela smiled.   
“You trust them to have your back if Nate’s father comes up.”   
“I do,” Daena replied, “you’ve recruited good people. I trust them.” Fela’s smile widened.   
“That’s good, I’m glad to hear that.”   
“I’m glad that it is the truth,” Daena said honestly, “though maybe you should warn Dan and Rory too, they might take turns punching him if the guy starts talking about what a ‘good man’ his father was. No actually, warn all of them. Juno might set him on fire, right after Mhairi rips his tongue out.” Fela chuckled.   
“Sounds like you guys are friends, rather than colleagues.”   
“We are, I think,” Daena said.   
“Good,” Fela said, “that makes you stronger.”   
“Speaking from experience, I presume?” Daena asked.   
“Very much so,” Fela replied with a smile, “a lesson I learned from my uncle and took to heart.”   
“The big, bearded man with the huge axe?” Daena asked, making a gesture with both hands to illustrate the man she pictured was huge.   
“That’s the one, Magnus Mac Eanraig,” Fela smiled wider, “the Mad Giant of the Storm Coast.”   
“Do they really call him that?”   
“No, but I do.”

“Commander,” came Rory’s cheery voice from the door as he walked in with, “Daena, good to see you on this fine morning.”   
“Good morning, Rory,” Fela replied, “how’s the footwork coming?” He shrugged.   
“I’ll admit, it’s not easy to swing as hard without moving as much.”   
“Try keeping your back straight,” Fela said, “it’ll make it easier to put your strength behind a swing and it’ll make you harder to knock off your feet.”   
“What? Really?” Rory asked and Fela nodded.   
“Lower centre of gravity,” she said, “head over heart, heart over pelvis, try it.”   
“Yes Ma’am,” Rory replied cheerfully and took a seat at the table.

“Are you joining us during drills today?” he asked.   
“No, I’m just here to introduce you to our newest recruit,” she replied.   
“Really?” he quipped, “must be an important one then.” Daena let out a snorty laugh at that.   
“Yeah, but not in the way you think.”   
“And now I am intrigued,” Rory replied playfully.

“What are we intrigued about?” Dan asked as he walked in.   
“An ‘important new recruit,’ though not in the way that _I_ think apparently,” Rory replied.   
“Alright, that’s enough,” Fela said with a sigh, “I’ll tell you more when everyone is here.”

They had the decency to look chastised, they were friendly with their Commander but that didn’t mean they didn’t have any respect. The conversation lulled for a few moments, but picked up again when Mhairi entered and asked about the day’s drills. Juno followed soon after, prompting Fela to tell them about Honnleath where they found Shale. They were chatting away amicably about the many ways Shale found to crush birds when Stroud and Nate walked in.

“Good everyone’s here,” Fela said and stood.

“Nathaniel, these are your fellow recruits,” she continued, “Daena, Rory, Mhairi, Juno, and Dan. Recruits, this is Nathaniel, he’ll be joining you from now on. Nate is an accomplished archer and has recently returned to Ferelden after studying abroad. I trust you will all treat each other with the respect a colleague is due.”

She kept her voice light, her posture relaxed and wore a broad smile. No need to suggest there was something wrong with Nate, just making proper introductions. They would get to know him eventually, and find out on their own who he was. She didn’t want them to judge him for his father’s crimes, that didn’t gain anyone anything. She needed Grey Wardens, no matter where they were from or who they were. She subtly reminded them of that.

“With the introductions made, Warden Stroud will take over from here. I want one of you to show Nate around, get him up to speed about the daily routine,” Fela looked around and nodded when Mhairi volunteered.

With that, she turned on her heel and left. She would have liked to say a proper goodbye, but one of them had eaten fried eggs with bacon and cheese for breakfast or something. The smell was making her stomach turn and she needed to find a potted plant or a bush, and fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I have something of a core group to work with, we can start doing Grey Warden stuff. But all in due time. Fela is still pregnant, after all, and there is King and Queen stuff to do.


	73. The Joining Ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We start with fluff and then I ruin the mood with the Joining ritual. Enjoy ;)

Alistair ran his fingers over the barely noticeable swell of Fela’s belly, looking down at it adoringly.

She was a little over three months now, it would still be a while before she _really_ began showing. But in the privacy of their chambers, in the safety of their bed, where Alistair had her naked in his arms, he could see the changes clearly. His head rested on her chest, where she cradled it and idly traced her fingers through his hair. One of his legs was entwined between hers, her side snuggled into his front. He could tell by her breathing that she was close to sleep.

She slept so much these days, he wondered how she still managed to get anything done.

_Must be exhausting, having a child grow inside you._

The number of catnaps was substantial. Alistair had even found her curled up in the window sill once, sleeping in the sunlight just like a cat. And in between those she was mostly hungry, prone to bursting into tears, likely to vomit, a little temperamental, and very, _very,_ moody.

She couldn’t help it, occasionally she went a little crazy. And Alistair took the brunt of it. He’d gotten very proficient at soothing her. After all it was his child that grew inside her. His second child. It felt odd to be reminded of that. He would have two children soon, _two._ Granted, he would likely never see the child that carried Urthemiel’s soul. But it was still two more children than he ever dared hoped to have.

That one of them was with Fela, a Grey Warden like himself, was nothing short of a miracle. Then again, _she,_ was nothing short of a miracle. A woman who lost everything and decided to go save the world, and _bloody_ _succeeded_. And she loved him, and she already loved their child with the newly developed fierceness of a young mother.

He smiled subconsciously, he was holding the mother of his baby. He went warm and fuzzy with happiness at the thought, and shamelessly revelled in it. Asher, who lay snuggled up against Fela’s other side appeared to be doing the same. Fela was already halfway to the Fade, but if Alistair was correct, she had been doing it too.

He carefully committed the moment to memory, wishing it would never end. He would have to get back to ruling his country at some point, but for now his world was reduced to this. Wonderful, cliché, marital bliss, and it was perfect. Fela’s fingers had stopped moving, she had fallen asleep. The sun was barely below the horizon. Then again, their lovemaking probably had something to do with it too. Fela had been… insanely horny lately. And since Alistair was happy to oblige, well, she slept even more.

She had also been busy lately. She had raised Shianni to Bann of the Alienage, which turned out to be a lot of paperwork and common procedure. It had raised the ire of some of the nobles, they had yet to name a new Arl of Denerim but the Queen was raising an elf to the status of Bann. She stepped on some toes, and had been working hard to smooth things over with various nobles.

And that was just the official business she kept herself busy with. Unofficially, she had taken Shianni and Dan to ‘visit’ Vaughan Kendells in his cell. The three of them had some history, and Fela decided to let the elves have a say in what was to be done with him. Meaning she had let Shianni slit his throat personally.

He hadn’t been very happy about that, many people had been looking forward to Vaughan’s public execution and questions were likely to be asked. She had simply shrugged and said that they’d quiet down once they named a new Arl of Denerim.

When he had heatedly asked her who that might be, she had suggested a lesser noble, Morris Crowley. Apparently she knew him from years back, long before the Blight. His family had started out as merchants before the rebellion against Orlais and were raised to nobility for their part in smuggling weapons and supplies for the rebels. While it had been a long time since she last spoke to Crowley, Fela apparently felt he was as good a choice as any.

He didn’t have any particular ties to the Couslands, but he was an old friend, he was a known patriot, and he probably had the connections to boost the renewed trade market in Denerim. In other words, if they named him Arl, the other nobles probably wouldn’t kick and scream as much. Many had been vying for the position, many would take it as a slight that a _lesser_ noble was raised to the position.

Then again, many were taking it as a slight that _they_ hadn’t been raised to the position already. Which they took to mean it was never going to happen, and they were right. They had Arlings and Bannorns of their own to rebuild, Alistair didn’t need them neglecting their current duties to expand their power and suck up to their new King and Queen while they were needed elsewhere. They were doing plenty of that already.

In fact, they had already been invited to so many soirees and parties that he wondered if the nobility was even aware they had a country to rebuild. Instead, many of them seemed to be dancing on its ashes, literally in some cases. It was easy, he supposed, to forget about the rest of the world when you were safe within stone walls.

They had politely declined any invitations that would take them out of Denerim, but Fela and Teagan insisted he attend the ones that kept them in the capital. Not to get drunk and have fun, but to establish relationships and keep an eye on that the nobility was doing. If you wanted influence among the nobility, you needed to rub elbows with them. And getting invited to their parties was the best way to do that.

He had learned something new about his wife while attending those parties, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Oh, it wasn’t anything horrible that changed the way he saw her in any way. Alistair couldn’t even imagine what might. No, what he learned, is that many _feared_ his wife.

The were afraid of her, careful not to raise her ire, careful not to insult. Ever so careful to hide what they were truly thinking. Many already knew her, she was still the only daughter of the former Teyrn of Highever, and sister to the current one.

Alistair wasn’t sure what had induced the fear, what she might have done to earn a reputation as someone you shouldn’t get angry. But he guessed it was because Fela effortlessly pierced through the many games they played. They felt naked before her, like they couldn’t hide. It upset the balance of the careful dance of court, secrets kept and traded, information won and sold. Fela saw it all. And that made her dangerous.

To Alistair however, she was the most wonderful thing in this world. Yes, she had a tendency to see through you even when you didn’t want her to. But to him, that wasn’t something to be afraid of. Where nobles felt exposed and vulnerable in her presence, he felt recognised and understood. It allowed him to be unguarded, to be his truest self. Just… just Alistair. Not King, Grey Warden, Knight, or bastard Prince. Just Alistair, the guy that stood by her from the day he met her. Who held her when she woke up screaming, who nursed so many of her wounds during their travels, who was her rock when she needed him to be.

It had come naturally to him. He didn’t know how else to be around her, didn’t _want_ to be anything else. Everything she brought out in him felt right, like thought, emotion, and action finally aligned. When he was everything he wanted to be.

In turn, she had let him see her. Unwittingly at first, but consciously later on. It was true that Fela could hide herself from him while he couldn’t do the same, that was precisely what made others wary of her. But she didn’t do it out of malice. She did it because underneath, she was vulnerable. It was the very same instinct that all people possessed. Fela was a formidable woman, but she still had her weaknesses and flaws, and she was slightly damaged. The night terrors attested to that. It was instinct that made her hide those things from the people around her, as a way of protecting herself.

But, as their relationship developed, Fela had allowed him peeks beyond the curtain. And he had discovered that beyond the scars of old wounds, lay something dark. Something nebulous and undefined. She had started by letting it out during battle, then she had shown it again as she… did whatever she did, to Zathrian. And the curtain had finally dropped when she killed Rendon Howe.

She was cruel, unafraid to use what power she wielded to inflict pain or force away control. She enjoyed her power over Howe in his last moments, indulged in it. And somehow Alistair couldn’t find it within himself to be repulsed by it. He had stood and watched as she pulled the man’s small intestine from his open belly, and he had not felt even a sliver of compassion. No guilt, no outrage at the violence, no disgust at the way she drank in Howe’s agony.

All he felt, was a sense of righteousness. Despite what he had been taught, the torture and execution of that man had felt righteous. It shouldn’t have. But his gut was telling him that Howe had it long coming. He understood why she did it, why she enjoyed doing it. That was the only time he had seen Fela like that.

When she did something similar to Zathrian, minus the torture, she had actually taken the road of kindness. He didn’t doubt she could have forced him to break the curse if she had needed to. Once Fela got in someone’s head, _truly_ got into someone’s head, they didn’t stand a chance. She didn’t exactly enthral people, she just… had a very keen understanding of how they worked.

Like a musician who knows his instrument, within the bounds of possible results, Fela knew where to pluck and strum to produce the song she wanted. She wasn’t going to make a devout Chantry Sister sacrifice virgins to a demon, or turn a hardened criminal into a model citizen. That was like trying to play drums on a harp. But, she could have that Chantry sister take in elven refugees that didn’t even believe in the Maker. She could convince the hardened criminal take up arms to fight for his country. Play the harp like a harp, and the drum like a drum.

Zathrian was a crazy blood mage driven by revenge and hatred, but that didn’t mean that was all there was to him. It was the song he was currently playing. But it originated from love and grief, once she understood how the song came to be, she could change it. If she had not reached beyond what Zathrian hid from others to what he hid even from himself, she wouldn’t have known her instrument. The fact that she did allowed her to pluck the right snares.

She wasn’t evil, she was an anomaly, sure. But not evil. Just a talented musician, in a way.

Alistair wondered if Fela had ever learned how to play an actual instrument. She sang, he knew that, but instruments had never come up.

Many noble ladies learned to play harp, some might even learn to play a lute but not many. A lute wasn’t considered a properly feminine instrument for nobles, _why,_ Alistair might never know. Bards and minstrels didn’t seem to care who played what, so long as you were good. Fela probably would have said something vulgar about fingers and reproduction organs in relation to playing instruments. Alistair smiled subconsciously again and trailed his fingertip around her belly button. The woman was positively crazy. But she was his.

Alistair dozed for a while, imagining what Fela looked like with a baby in her arms. He imagined the child with a lop of dark hair, like hers. Probably her eyes too. A baby with big dark eyes _had_ to be adorable. Or amber eyes, like his. In the end it wouldn’t matter, any colour would be perfect.

He slowly drifted off to sleep, settling into peaceful dreams.

* * *

It was finally time for the Joining.

Avernus had send the supplies they needed from the remains of the Archdemon, and First Enchanter Irving had provided the rest. Stroud prepared the mixture with Juno’s help. Apparently it involved magic. It wasn’t as simple as mixing Archdemon blood with some lyrium, darkspawn blood, and bad wine. Stroud wrote down instructions for how to prepare it in the future, just in case he wasn’t there to mix it.

It took some coaxing on Fela’s part to get Stroud to agree to the idea of writing Grey Warden secrets down, but her own experience during the Blight was a compelling enough argument. The lack of information certainly hadn’t made her job any easier at the time.

The recruits were all very quiet.

While Fela did not tell them that the Joining could be fatal, they were aware that there was no going back now, come what may. Alistair was present for the ceremony, he was a King first but he was still a Grey Warden. And he was nervous, though he didn’t show it.

Well… he did show it, by looking exceptionally grim. Fela knew that to mean he was nervous. And she knew why, her stomach was tying itself into knots, and the sight of the vile concoction in the Joining chalice alone nauseated her. Some of them would die tonight.

Fela felt numb when she spoke the words, trying her best to sound confident and encouraging. Hard to do when you have to tell people some might not make it through the Joining, making their sacrifice now rather than later.

Daena went first, Fabliaux moving in behind her to catch her when she collapsed. It wouldn’t do to have her crack her skull on the stone floor. Fela took the chalice back from her when she started to groan in pain. She reached for her head grabbing two fistfuls of her dark hair before arching back while her eyes rolled back in her skull. Fabliaux gently lowered her to the floor, taking Daena’s pulse. After a frighteningly long moment, she nodded, and Fela turned to Juno.

The little redhead didn’t hesitate, she squeezed her eyes shut and took a good gulp, handing the chalice back to Fela immediately. She didn’t make a sound, she simply tensed up and collapsed into Germain’s arms. They waited in silence as the senior Warden checked the girl’s pulse and gave a nod.

Mhairi was next, taking the chalice reverently and taking a deep breath before lifting the chalice to her mouth. She nearly dropped the chalice when the stuff reached her throat. Fela barely managed to catch the thing without spilling.

Mhairi clawed at her throat, gasping for air as her eyes rolled back and foam formed at the corners of her mouth. Stroud caught her, lowered her to the ground as she spasmed, and held her until she went still.   
“I’m sorry,” Fela whispered, bowing her head in respect to Mhairi.

Dan took the chalice with the steady hands of a professional pickpocket, but his eyes betrayed his distress. He set his jaw however, nodded to her respectfully, straightened his back, and drank without further ado. Germain was behind him to catch him when he collapsed. Dan thrashed more than Juno and Daena had done, as if he were having a seizure. Fela held her breath, Dan wasn’t frothing at the mouth like Mhairi, but he was thrashing a lot more violently than Daena and Juno had. Germain held the younger man still so he wouldn’t fracture his skull on the stone floor. Meanwhile Fabliaux had knelt down next to him to take Dan’s pulse. When Dan’s thrashing subsided, she looked up and gave a short nod, signalling Dan was going to pull through.

Fela handed the chalice to Nate next. He kept his face carefully blank as he took it, avoiding looking Fela in the eye. He was hiding his distress from her, quite unsuccessfully. It didn’t matter, Fela wasn’t after his distress anyway. She ignored it, watching Nate drink and taking the chalice from him after he swallowed. He slowly sank to his knees, clutching his head and groaning in agony. Stroud caught him when he passed out, quickly signalling that he had made it.

Last one to drink was Rory, who looked grim. Much like Nate, he was careful not to betray his fears. He gave Fela a little bow before taking the chalice though, and took a deep breath before he drank. Fela took the chalice from him when he started to cough and Germain and Fabliaux moved to either side of him to help the large man to the ground without him hurting himself. The moment Rory started coughing, she remembered Daveth.

Rory belched before passing out, which resulted in a few raised eyebrows. Fabliaux and Germain caught him before he could crack his skull on the stone floor. Thankfully, they nodded that he was ok within a few seconds.

Fela set down the chalice and sank to the ground with her back against the altar.

“We lost only one,” she said quietly, “sadly I find no consolation in that.” Alistair made his way over to his wife, and promptly sat down on the floor next to her. Her Mabari doing the same on the other side.   
“I’ll have her body prepared for a proper funeral,” Stroud said sympathetically, he gestured for Germain to help him carry Mhairi away. Fabliaux busied herself by checking on each individual Grey Warden.

 _Five survivors,_ Fela thought to herself, _that’s better than I dared hope._

She still felt hollow though. The last Joining ritual she attended was her own, she had been the only survivor. And she went straight to handing out the poison herself. She had punched Duncan in the face for it when she woke up, said some pretty harsh things. She wouldn’t blame any of the new Grey Wardens if they did the same. Well, maybe Nate. A little. He kind of seemed to want to punch her in the face at all times, he’d resisted the urge so far though. He’d think twice about doing it too.

Alistair laced his fingers with Fela’s as they quietly waited for the new Grey Wardens to wake up. She’d been emotional, pregnancy would do that. And she was taking Mhairi’s death hard. Asher put his head on her leg with a sigh, she stroked his head with her free hand absently in response. To Fela’s credit, she didn’t cry. But the faraway look in her eyes said enough.

“It’s always hard,” Fabliaux said from Rory’s side, “but… it gets easier. After a while.” She didn’t look up, “was this the first Joining you attended after your own?”   
“Yes,” Fela replied, “two deaths, no other survivors but me.”   
“There were two deaths at my Joining too,” she said with a nod, “one other guy survived. He died a month later on a mission to close a hole leading to the Deep Roads, darkspawn were coming through it, ruining everything they touched. They ruined him too.”

Silence settled over them, Joinings were never a joyous occasion. They might as well have funerals first, like the Legion of the Dead did. There were always deaths anyway. Alistair squeezed Fela’s hand a little, and she scooted a little bit closer to lean her head on his shoulder. Under normal circumstances, she maintained a careful air of professionalism. But she was among the Grey Wardens here. There was no point to hiding it, they all felt it.

The Taint ruined _everything_.

* * *

Juno was the first to stir, complaining that this was worse than her Harrowing, at least that had been over quickly.

Fela promptly stood and moved to help the girl into a sitting position. Juno looked around.   
“Where’s Mhairi?”   
“She didn’t make it,” Fela said quietly.   
“Oh,” Juno whispered and lowered her eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Fela asked.   
“My head hurts,” Juno said, “ _bad._ Worse than after a three-day lyrium drag.”   
“Did you dream?” she continued.   
“I saw darkspawn…” Juno said after a brief pause, “doing what darkspawn do, essentially… Nothing I haven’t seen them do during the Blight anyway. Why do you ask?”   
“I dreamt of the Archdemon at my Joining,” she replied.   
“Oh. No, no Archdemon,” Juno said, “that’s good right?” Fela smiled a little.   
“It is.”   
“Did your head feel like a ton of bricks too?”   
“Pretty much.”

The next to wake was Rory, remarkably quickly too, he had been the last to drink.

“Ah _,_ son of a _whore_ ,” he groaned and reached a hand to his forehead. Fabliaux gently chastised him for his language while she helped him sit up and gave him some water. One by one, the Grey Warden recruits came to. Daena couldn’t keep the contents of her stomach down, she became violently sick, heaving out the black substance. Juno and Dan both paled at the sight, but they kept it down.

Fela couldn’t really tell how Nate was doing, as soon as he was able to sit up, he turned his back towards her. Just as well, nothing had really changed, except that Nate was a Grey Warden now. Rory, for his part, mostly groaned, cursed, and swore. Once they all felt well enough to stand and walk on their own, Fela gave them the night off to recover. She gave the same order to Stroud, Germain, and Fabliaux.

Alistair and she retreated to their chambers, both had cleared their schedules for the rest of the day.

The Joining ritual wasn’t exactly an easy part of being a Grey Warden. Plus, Fela had admitted to being wholly unstable due to the pregnancy. She’d been delegating most of her duties, and by now she only served as Alistair’s Queen. Appearances needed to be made, her absence would be noticed. Stroud had taken over for her as Second in Command and the Steward in Vigil’s Keep dealt with Amaranthine. They reported to her, yes, but she didn’t actually partake in any of the day-to-day anymore now that it was running smoothly.

Which by no means resulted in any time off to get fat.


	74. Playing Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shameless smut first, then on to King and Queen stuff.

Lately, Eamon had gotten it into his head that Fela and Alistair should tour the country.

He had a route planned and everything. Fela didn’t like the idea of leaving home much anymore, not until after the baby was born. But Eamon had a point, they would have to start making visits at some point. They’d been holed up in the city, dealing with the aftermath of the Blight for months. New Monarchs usually toured the country to let themselves be seen, to common people as well as the nobility.

Fela and Alistair had been putting it off, the country was in shambles, after all, but it was unavoidable.

And now, they had finally succumbed, and would leave for Highever in the morning. Fela wasn’t necessarily _un-_ happy about that. But she didn’t look forward to it either. She didn’t feel like remembering the last time she was at Highever. But seeing her brother was a nice prospect.

They had agreed to carriages, to Eamon’s delight. Fela was less pleased but Wynne had declared riding was no longer safe unless the horse was walking very slowly. And if Fela hadn’t decided to listen to Wynne on her own, Alistair probably would have made her.

Or at least, keep her in a bearhug every time she got it in her head to climb onto a horse. No need for a fight, he could just pick her up and take her away from the horse. Most of Alistair’s strategies revolved around that lately, no yelling, no fighting, just… Being a fricking bull of a man that just happens to be too _fricking heavy_ to struggle against if you have a baby in your belly.

That meant he wouldn’t use much force yes, but neither would she. Meaning it came down to a strength contest. And while Fela packed a lot of strength, she could never match Alistair, and he knew it. She may have thrown him once or twice, just to prove she could. But usually, she relented. Wrestling Alistair was like wrestling a bear, anyway, resistance was _absolutely_ futile.

It was hard to stay mad at Alistair for long though, he had a very disarming nature. And he did this thing with his tongue where he sort of wrapped it around her clit and sucked. Impossible to stay mad at a man who does that, can’t be done. Besides, a carriage provided some privacy. So she wasn’t _that_ displeased to be sitting in one for ten hours a day going at the slowest possible pace.

Alone with Alistair, cooped up in a tiny space. She could get comfortable.

But for now, they had the rest of the evening off and nowhere to be. So they retreated to their chambers after wrapping up the Joining. 

The second Alistair closed the door behind him, Fela started taking her armour off and moved towards the hearth.

“I’ll get you a shirt,” he said with a small smile and went off to find an old shirt of his. It had been a while since she had done this, mostly because there had been little free time to do so. And most of that was spent in bed, obviously. He gathered up the pillows and blankets too, returning to his wife to find she had produced bedrolls from somewhere and had put them on the floor for extra comfort. Blankets, furs, and pillows were arranged to his wife’s liking, and she undressed down to her smalls to slip on the shirt Alistair had brought.

Meanwhile he stoked up the fire and stripped his own armor. Watching Fela create a little nest of warm fluffiness was oddly like watching an animal nest. He chuckled when she looked at him over her shoulder.   
“What?” she asked.   
“You’re adorable,” Alistair said soothingly. She narrowed her eyes a little, but continued her nesting process. When she was done, she padded the blankets to invite him to join her.

“It’s been a while since we did this,” Alistair said softly as he gathered Fela up in his arms.   
“Yeah,” Fela said, “it’s too easy for people to find me here.”   
“You’re not worried about anyone finding and disturbing you now?” he asked.   
“Nah,” she replied, “unless the Chantry spontaneously explodes, we should be good.”   
“Officially on maternity leave on two out of three jobs?” he quipped. Fela gave him a flat look.   
“I am managing my workload,” she said crisply. He gave her a teasing smile.   
“Alright, that’s what we’re calling it in front of other people.” She glared at him, but snuggled into his chest anyway.   
“I’m glad you did though,” Alistair said, “you were working two jobs too many for months.”   
“I know, I know,” Fela sighed, “but to be fair, it was you who gave Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens, that Arlessa job, your fault.”   
“You’re right,” Alistair conceded and moved to kiss the side of Fela’s neck, “I apologise.” The heat of his breath on her skin send a pleasant tingle down her spine and straight into her groin. And it was entirely what Alistair had intended. He grinned at her wickedly as she tried to decide whether to be annoyed with him, or turned on.

So, Alistair decided to help her make a decision. He gently lifted her chin with his fingers to place a soft kiss on her lips. She instantly melted into it, returning equally soft kisses with gentle caresses of her tongue. Alistair hummed appreciatively, letting his fingers trace her jaw before entwining them in her hair. Fela nipped his lip to encourage him to meet her tongue with his, running her hands over his shoulders, admiring the shape and firmness of the muscles there.

The way she touched him, hungry and possessively, made him smile a smug smile against her lips. She pulled back to glare at him again, playfully this time, and settled back into his chest. Alistair kissed the top of her head.   
“Are you ok?” he asked gently. Fela shrugged.   
“Not really,” she admitted, “I never expected them all to make it, you know. I was prepared… Mhairi would have made a damn good Warden.” Alistair nodded.   
“She would have,” he said softly.

Fela didn’t need to say much more than that, he was going through the same thing. Though her experience was probably a bit sharp around the edges, add the pregnancy, and you’ve got a nice unstable mix of complicated feelings. He didn’t say that it’s actually an exceptionally good outcome, or say it could have been worse. He knew it would be an empty consolation, so he simply held her, breathing in the scent of her hair. _Vanilla,_ he noticed with a smile.

The smell brought some wonderful memories to the surface, and his smile widened without him noticing. He _did_ notice himself getting hard at the memory of his cock buried between her tits, and the way she had looked up at him. Fela noticed it too, letting a hand wander down his stomach to cup his erection. He buried his face in her neck as she softly stroked him through the fabric of his pants, letting out a shaky breath.

Their previous conversation was easily forgotten when he kissed her, he took her breath away. His kiss was possessive, demanding, and gentle all at the same time. There was a need in it, a desire to drown in her like she wanted to drown in him. She could never get enough of him, he made her stomach flutter. He made her knees weak, and her head spin. She longed to be closer, pressing herself against him with needy urgency.

One of his hands travelled down her back, trailing lazy patterns on her skin under the loose fabric, and finally cupped her ass. He smacked it when she bit him, and used his other hand to make a fist in her hair. She exposed her neck to him, and he kissed the tender skin where her pulse lay just beneath the surface before grazing it with his teeth.

Her throat vibrated when she moaned ever so softly, encouraging Alistair to sink his teeth in. He sucked, gently at first, making her giggle and sigh as he teased the soft skin with his tongue, then harder, leaving a bruise. She practically purred at the feeling, writhing against him and slipping her hand beneath his pants and smalls. She brushed her fingers along the silk skin, down to the base and back up to the tip. He rolled his hips to press himself firmer into her hand, looking for more friction. Fela nipped at his jaw as she continued to stroke him, following the line back to his ear and down to the nape of his neck. She let one of her legs slip between his and dragged her palm over the tip of Alistair’s cock.

The sound that ripped from his throat made heat pool between her thighs as she softly rocked against him. He tightened the grip on her ass, using the one in her hair to bring her mouth back to his. A little moan escaped her when he grazed his teeth over her lower lip. Her tongue darted out to meet his, teasing and playing until he decided to roll her onto her back while he got on top to kiss her in earnest.

She chuckled at his hunger, nipping at his lower lip. It earned her a growl that send a tingle down her spine and made her toes curl. Alistair pulled back to yank her shirt open, once again tearing each and every button that had been fastened. She gasped when he trailed hot kisses down her neck and to her breasts. Down the little valley and along her stomach. He briefly stopped to get rid of her panties, tugging it down her hips and sliding it down her legs so she could kick it away. She wrapped her legs around his shoulders when he got down on his stomach to taste her.

She let out a delighted moan when he ran his tongue along her sex and ran her fingers through his hair. He took his time lapping at her folds, teasing the sensitive flesh with his tongue to listen to her moan and sigh. Her hands pulled into fists in his hair when he got to her clit, using a thumb to lift the little hood of skin covering it. He teased the little nub with the tip of his tongue, listening to her gasp at the contact. Her back arched when he slipped a finger into her heat.

Fela was soon lost in the sensations Alistair was eliciting from her body, he rubbed his tongue against her clit mercilessly, slow, and deliberate. Her pussy rippled and pulsed around his finger while he worked, accompanied by breathy moans and little tugs on his hair. Pleasure coursed through Fela’s centre with overwhelming waves, making her buck against Alistair’s mouth. He hummed in approval when she gasped his name, sending a vibration through her body that made her toes curl once more.

She fought to keep from squeezing Alistair’s head with her thighs, pressing her calves into his back instead. Alistair moved on to faster licks on the little bundle of nerves while he kept the movements of his finger slow. Her hands moved to grasp his shoulders, digging her fingers into the skin almost painfully when her body started to clench. She was building towards a rush, slowly and thoroughly. It originated from her core, spreading deliciously slowly through her body while she tensed. Her moans turned to short cries, when she reached her peak. Her body shook with the release, Alistair had to pin her hips with his hands so he could continue the assault on her clit while she rode out her orgasm.

But he didn’t stop. Adding a finger and continuing with long luxurious strokes on her clit. Her voice failed her, Alistair kept her right on the fine line that could send her over the edge a second time. Her breath fell short, and her mind swam. The new rise of tension had her wound unbearably tight, it had her gnash her teeth and rake her nails across Alistair’s shoulders. Her pussy clenched so tight on his fingers he had to slow down thrusting them in, or risk hurting her. She screamed out a curse when she came a second time, the muscles in her stomach clenching involuntarily and lifting her chest off the ground. She slowly eased up, turning into a boneless heap before rolling onto her side when Alistair got back up.

He was grinning when he looked down at her, wiping his mouth with his forearm. If she noticed he looked entirely _too_ smug, she couldn’t be arsed to care. She was off somewhere between the Fade and the waking world, feeling too good to come down from the high just yet. He laid down next to her, folding his arms behind his head while he watched her catch her breath.

For a while, the only sound that filled the room were Fela’s breathing and the occasional snap and crack from the hearth. Eventually she curled up against his side, letting out a contented sigh.

Alistair wrapped an arm around her to pull her a little closer.   
“Feel better?”   
“Yeah,” she sighed, not bothering to expand on that statement.   
“Are you going to sleep now?” he continued.   
“But what about you?” she asked while raising her head slightly and letting a hand travel along his stomach.   
“Don’t worry about me, love,” he chuckled softly, “you’re the one who’s had a really shitty day.”   
“You were there for it too,” she replied.   
“Because I’m an awesome husband,” he said cheekily, “and I’m still kind of a Grey Warden, tradition and crap dictates I be present for special occasions.” She chuckled.   
“’Special occasions,’ why is it that the ‘special occasions’ are always the shitty ones?”   
“Fuck if I know,” Alistair replied lazily, “I just know that they are.”

He wrapped his arms around his half-naked wife, and she happily buried her face in his chest, one of her arms wrapped around his waist.

“We should let everyone leave tomorrow while we hide and stay behind,” Fela whispered conspiringly.   
“And enjoy a nice and quiet palace for a few hours?” Alistair replied playfully, pretending to consider it.   
“Sounds good, doesn’t it?” Fela said.   
“Hmm,” he kissed the top of her head, “right up until Eamon comes back while fighting a heart attack, then there would be chaos all around.” Fela groaned.   
“Now you’ve ruined the fantasy.”   
“We’d be better off sneaking off into the Wilds together,” Alistair replied.   
“Right, because the Wilds is an _awesome_ place to have a baby,” Fela retorted. Both of them fell silent.

“Do you think Morrigan…” Alistair began and made a gesture in a generally southern direction. Fela shook her head.   
“I don’t know. She’ll be hiding, but there are many places to do that besides the Korkari Wilds, and they aren’t currently inhabitable.” Alistair nodded.   
“Right, she could turn into a bird and go where ever she pleased,” he paused for a moment, “do you think she could still change shapes? While pregnant I mean.”   
“Good question,” Fela mused, “I suppose it depends on whether the child could change with her. Imagine a foetus of eight months, being squashed into the body of a hawk.”   
“ _Ew_ , I don’t want to imagine that,” Alistair whined, “it’s disturbing.”   
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to then,” she retorted.   
“You could have just said Morrigan would know,” he countered.   
“I could have said a great many things,” Fela answered, “if you want to hear a specific answer, I suggest asking the question to that answer.” Alistair sighed.   
“Fine, you win. Do you think Morrigan knew whether she could still shapeshift while pregnant?”   
“Why, yes Alistair,” Fela replied, “I expect she did.”   
“That’s better,” he quipped and kissed the top of her head again. Fela let out a snorty laugh but didn’t otherwise reply, other than holding onto him a little tighter.

“We had better bring a huge stack of books,” Fela mumbled.   
“And cheese,” Alistair assented, “lots and lots of cheese.” She chuckled.   
“Don’t feed any to Asher, cheese makes him fart. You don’t want that inside a carriage.” Alistair snorted a laugh and kissed the hop of her head.   
“It’s not the dog you need to worry about when you’re cooped up in a carriage.” She jabbed a finger in his side to make him yelp.   
“Stop that,” he laughed while grabbing her wrists with his hands. Fela smirked up at him.   
“If you stink up that carriage you’ll be walking next to it after you clean my vomit off your clothes.” He cracked a grin at that.   
“That’s disgusting.” She slipped a hand from his grasp to jab it in his side again.   
“You watch your mouth,” she said as he yelped again and regained his grasp on her wrist. “You’re stuck in there with me for a long time, no need to make that unpleasant,” she continued and moved to straddle him.   
“We wouldn’t want that,” he agreed and released her wrists to slide his hands up her bare thighs.   
“No,” she assented, “we wouldn’t.”

Fela started slowly unbuttoning Alistair’s shirt, admiring the lines of his chest and shoulders as they were slowly revealed to her.   
“I have some thoughts on ‘pleasant’ ways to pass the time,” Alistair said as het let his hands travel up her waist, moving the now mostly buttonless shirt to expose her breasts.   
“ _Now_ you’re talking,” she smirked while admiring his form. She ran her fingertips over the scars left by Flemeth, looking like a cat studying its prey.   
“Yes, first of all, I need to keep you properly fed, you get cranky when you’re hungry,” Alistair quipped. Her eyes snapped back up to his face and she let out a frustrated growl.   
“Funny guy, aren’t you?”   
“It’s one of my better traits.”   
“Yeah?”   
“That’s right.”   
“That mouth get you in trouble a lot, Chantry boy?”   
“My mouth gets me many things.”   
“Is one of them getting your ass kicked by a pregnant woman?”   
“Hasn’t happened before, no,” he said innocently.   
“An effort on their part, I’m sure,” she sneered back. Alistair chuckled.   
“What about _my_ pregnant woman?”   
“ _Definitely_ an effort on my part,” she growled. He gave her a coy smile.   
“Then why are you wet?”

Fela bared her teeth at him briefly, letting out an angry hiss, there was an unmistakable little wet spot on Alistair’s pants where she sat on him, he felt it as well as she did. And then there was the unmistakable throb of her pussy, and the fact she was annoyed by Alistair’s diversion when she was about to get his clothes off. She _wanted_ his clothes off. And Alistair was taking his sweet time teasing her, knowing it would piss her off. Well, he got what he wanted.

Caught between deciding whether to suck it up and get his cock inside her, or storming off to the bedroom, she planted her hands on the ground on either side of his head. Leaning forward to look down on him and letting her hair fall around her face. It obscured her features a little, but her smouldering gaze stuck out like a Mabari in a cat pen.

“You think you’re clever, huh?” she purred while moving one of her hands to caress his jaw before taking a firmer than necessary hold.   
“Clever Alistair, all witty remarks and innocent smiles,” she tilted his head up, “funny Alistair, with his jokes and bright ideas,” she brought her face down to whisper in his ear, “do you think it’s a good idea to play with my current temper? That I’ll appreciate the attempt at riling me up so we can have some nice angry sex?” She rose to look at him for a moment, released his jaw by shoving it aside and rolled off, “get up and get your fucking pants off.” 

Alistair did as he was told, standing up and getting to work on the laces of his pants while she watched.   
“Shirt too,” she instructed in a cool voice. He shrugged it off his shoulders before pushed his pants and smalls down his hips, letting them pool on the floor before stepping out of them.   
“Now turn around,” Fela said, earning a questioning look from Alistair. She returned it with a hard stare and arched an eyebrow. So he did as she told him, turning his back to her.

This was new, she was taking on a _very_ dominant role, fully expecting him to obey, it had the noble Lady she was raised as written all over it. He could feel the heat of her gaze on his backside, uncertain of what to do as the seconds ticked by. First he decided to wait, until the seconds turned into a minute, and then two.   
“Eyes front,” she snapped at him when he cast a glance over his shoulder. She had not moved, apparently she had just watched him. Also new. Fela was never one for patience. He had expected her to… do something. Approach and touch him, or maybe just speak to him. But she did neither of those things, black eyes boring into his back.

Maybe she was just enjoying her current power, seeing how long it would take him to turn around on his own. Whatever she was doing, it wasn’t doing much for him, he was starting to get a little cold.   
“So, can I turn around now?” he finally asked.   
“No,” was her only reply.

He frowned at that, he was starting to lose his patience, what were they doing? Did he fuck it up and pissed her off for real or was this part of the game? There were less humiliating ways to have a fight. He was just starting to consider calling it off when he felt a featherlight touch on his calf, travelling up to his thigh. He smiled inwardly, they were still playing.

She didn’t speak while she let her hands wander his body, admiring his shape. The lines on his skin that marked him as a warrior, the lean muscles under his skin. As if he were a work of art, made just for her. Alistair closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of her hands on his skin. Fela rose as she let her hands travel higher along his body, standing close enough that he could feel her body heat behind him but not close enough to touch her skin to his. He felt only her hands, the occasional scrape of her fingernails, and her clever fingertips looking to touch every inch of him.

It made him feel strangely exposed, not being able to see her while she stood behind him. Unsure of what she would do next, she wasn’t particularly predictable these days. And he did poke the hornets nest with that comment on her crankiness when she was hungry, which was _all_ the time. Suddenly he felt very silly, riling up a crazy master-manipulator and expecting it to go as he intended. 

Suddenly, her hands and the heat behind him were gone. He strained to listen for movement behind him, but only heard the fire crack and snap.   
“Turn around,” she finally said, startling him. He spun quickly, too quickly to just be eager. She had returned to the furs, blankets, and pillows. Splayed out luxuriously, one hand between her legs to play with her clit while she watched him.

Alistair’s breath caught at the sight. The flames of the hearth cast dancing shadows on her body, flattering and outlining the soft curves of her hips, waist, and breasts. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes half lidded, caught up in the pleasure she was giving herself while watching him. Unashamed and raw.

“Fela…” it came out a lot more hoarse than he’d intended. She smiled.   
“Hush, get on your knees.” His body obeyed before his mind had processed what she was asking, he sank to his knees, unable to tear his eyes away from her.   
“Now come over here,” she instructed.

He did as he was told, crawling towards her, shoulders shifting and rolling like those of a predator about to pounce. The look in his eyes made Fela burn up inside, she was playing with fire now. Alistair’s preference leaned towards a more dominant role than he was currently getting, it was only a matter of time before he decided to take it. And that was of course, entirely the point.

She rested one of her feet against his chest when he had gotten close enough to touch her legs.   
“Stop,” she whispered though heavy breaths, “stay right there.” She could tell by the clenching of his jaw he was getting impatient. She pushed him back a little with her foot when he brushed his fingers along her calf.   
“No, you don’t get to touch. Put your hands on the ground.”

He obeyed, his eyes never once leaving her. She watched his face as he let his eyes wander over her body with an intensity that send a shiver down her spine. She dipped a finger into her heat to gather up her honey and rub it around her clit, teasing the sensitive nub and letting out a soft breath. She could see the tension in Alistair’s shoulders as he stared at her fingers. One of his hands wrapped tightly around her ankle, but he didn’t pull or move to take over. He just pinned her foot in place, so Fela didn’t bother pulling it free. She wasn’t going anywhere anyway.

She drew in a deep breath and let out a soft moan, rubbing her clit with fast up-and down motions. She felt Alistair’s grip on her ankle tighten at the sound and heard his breathing come faster while she slowly worked up to her climax. She took her time, experience allowing her to draw it out. The orgasm would only be sweeter for it. She struggled not to throw her head back, she wanted to look at him as he watched her pleasure herself. Her thighs tensed as tension started to spread through her body.

“Come for me, love,” Alistair whispered, “show me.” Fela whimpered in reply, spreading her folds a little wider with her fingers to give Alistair a better view. His other hand snaked around her other ankle as he watched, biting his lower lip.

She let out a strangled cry when she came, arching her body like a strung bow before sinking back into the blankets and furs. She could feel her insides clench and ripple with the release, riding the sweet waves while she caught her breath. She didn’t get the chance.

Alistair yanked on both her ankles to drag her towards him. He fell upon her like a predator on prey, crashing his mouth into hers as he tightly wrapped his arms around her. She somehow managed to snake an arm between them to grab his cock and guide him to her opening. He followed eagerly, plunging into her with less care than he should have. She sucked in a sharp breath and bared her teeth at him but angled her hips up towards his to find more contact and draw him in deeper as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Her kiss was all teeth and tongue when they started to move. Her pussy was still pulsing with her orgasm, sucking him in each time he moved. She moaned into his mouth, the steady ‘uh-uh-uh’ spurning him on as he drove into her over and over and over again. She was still sensitive from her first orgasm, and Alistair’s punishing pace threatened to send her crashing over the edge a second time. She twisted away from his mouth to sink her teeth into his neck with a low growl. He pulled back to grab both of her wrists and pin them to the ground, leaning on his elbows to keep his neck out of biting range.

Her eyes were closed when he looked down on her, head thrown back and her lips slightly parted. She couldn’t have looked more beautiful to Alistair, soft neck exposed as he lowered his lips to the sensitive skin. She latched onto his ear immediately, nipping at his earlobe. Alistair moved to hold both of her wrists with one hand to entwine the other in her hair and make a fist, pulling her head back and her teeth away from his ear.

“Stop biting!” he growled into her ear. She responded with a throaty laugh that quickly turned back into moans, and then cries as the second orgasm hit her. The way she clenched around his cock had Alistair groan and burry his face in her neck. He throbbed and spilled himself inside her until there was nothing left.

“ _Maker_ , woman,” Alistair panted, “where’d _that_ come from?”   
“Hmm? Oh,” she panted, “you play with me, I play with you.”   
“That’s fair,” he mumbled, “was it as good for you as it was for me?”   
“Oh, yeah.”   
“Good, good…”

They fell into comfortable silence, catching their breath. Fela rolled along when Alistair moved off her to curl into his side.

“Mine,” she declared and wrapped her arm around his torso.   
“Yours,” he assented with a chuckle and kissed the top of her head. Alistair drew a blanket over them while she was well on her way drifting into the Fade. He briefly considered sleeping there tonight, in front of the hearth. But then he remembered this would be the last night to enjoy a featherbed in a while. Not that they’d be sleeping in the dirt on a bedroll, but still.

He didn’t bother trying to wake Fela up, simply untangled himself and picked her up. She stirred as he did so, slipping her arms around his neck and holding onto him for warmth. Clinging to him when he put her down on the bed before going back for the blankets and pillows. She had curled up in a ball when he returned to the bedroom, and didn’t move when he tossed a blanket over her. She was curling up against him the moment he slipped into the bed though, pressing her face against his chest when he rolled onto his side to put an arm around her. He was pretty sure Fela had not even been fully awake. Just as well, he kissed the top of her head and settled in.

Sleep took him quickly. 

* * *

In was noon by the time they finally left the city, and not because the Monarchs were late.

A score of nobles, a full battalion of guards, servants, wagons full of supplies and seemingly endless crap that they didn’t even have any use for. That’s what you get when you leave Eamon in charge of planning your tour. Why some nobles felt the urge to tag along, was no mystery. However, sucking up to the new King apparently didn’t involve being on time. And Fela discovered Alistair had a thing about punctuality, he couldn’t stand having to wait on people who were late due to poor planning or simply being slow as a fat slug.

Habren Bryland seemed incapable of moving any faster than an inebriated sloth, and two of her friends were apparently still packing. Alistair would have left everybody who was more than thirty minutes late behind, were it not that Eamon was among them. While Fela agreed it was rude to be late when departing for a journey, she hadn’t really expected anything else.

These people were used to other people waiting on them, they didn’t consider the option that this was not an universal norm. They had not been raised in a Chantry and trained as a Templar, like their King. If he was late for breakfast, he didn’t get any. If he was late for drills, he would be digging latrines for a month. If he was late for a shift, he got to scrub chamber pots and work nightshifts. Alistair had learned the value of being on time. And having to wait before they could leave pissed him off.

“Pacing isn’t going to make time pass any faster,” Fela said from her chair, lazily lounging in the morning sun.   
“I am not trying to make time pass faster,” he grunted.   
“Then what are you doing? Wearing a trail in the stone?” she replied and put her feet up on the coffee table. He stopped to glare at her.   
“I am pacing because that’s what I feel like doing,” he said, slightly petulantly. Fela chuckled.   
“Honey, it’s out of your control now, why don’t you do something more entertaining, hmm?”   
“Like what?” he asked with a frown. Fela shrugged.   
“We could play chess.”

“No.”   
“Why not?”   
“Because you’re a sore loser.”   
“Ah, come on, I’m not that bad.”   
“You flipped the board.”   
“Oh yeah,” she chuckled, “fine not chess. How about a round of Diamondback?”   
“Nah.”   
“Wicked Grace?”   
“Pass.”   
“Fetch?”   
“What?”   
“Fetch.”   
“With the dog?”   
“No, fetch me some elfroot, you’re giving me a headache.” Alistair gave a frustrated growl but he stopped pacing and dropped in the opposite chair.

“Happy?” he sneered as he crossed his arms over his chest.   
“Ecstatic,” she replied dryly.   
“Why is it so hard for some people to be on time?” Alistair complained after a brief silence.   
“Beats me,” she sighed with poorly concealed disinterest.   
“I mean, how hard is it? We were supposed to depart at eighth bell, the Chantry rings it every hour. Are they not capable of counting beyond five?”   
“That, is a very real possibility in some cases,” Fela smirked.   
“Or do they get distracted too easily? Like, ‘hmm, it’s been a while since seventh bell, better get to the Western Gate, ooh a butterfly!’” he continued.   
“Also, a very real possibility,” Fela added.   
“Or are they just oblivious to the fact they are making people wait unnecessarily? Like we don’t have anything better to do? As if we have time to waste on waiting for the servants to catch Lady Annabel’s pet fennec so it can accompany her on what I can only image must be like a trip around the ass end of hell for the poor animal. Why does she even keep it as a pet? You can’t domesticate them, it’s probably woefully unhappy in a castle, and on top of that she has the servants dress it up!” Alistair ranted, throwing his hands into the air, “no wonder it runs away constantly.”   
“Uh-huh,” Fela replied lazily, resting her cheek in her palm, “maybe drop that one in the rumour mill and she might set it free to please you.”

“That, is actually a pretty good idea,” Alistair said thoughtfully, “won’t work forever though, they have to figure out I’m already married at some point.” Fela chuckled.   
“Honey, they will continue to throw themselves at you until I go into labour. And they’ll only stop by then because they won’t be able to follow you when you take off at a mad dash after Asher.” She petted the hound on his head affectionally.   
“Right boy? You’ll go get Alistair when my water breaks, there’s a good boy.” Asher wagged his tail so vigorously his butt shook along with it when he nuzzled Fela’s belly, leaving a blob of drool on her dress.

“That gives me about five and a half months to train the female nobles to be on time and not be cruel to animals,” he summarised, “if I’m willing to abuse my status as, apparently, ‘still available’ even though my wife is pregnant with my baby.”   
“They don’t know that yet,” she shrugged, “and you’re fair game until you present the court with a child as far as they’re concerned. And for a while yet after that, I’m guessing.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” he asked.   
“Noblewomen throwing themselves at you?” she specified, “not really. I know they aren’t getting anywhere.” He smiled.   
“Such confidence.”   
“Right, because puffed up tarts that bathe in perfume are your type,” she replied flatly.   
“How do you even know I have a type?” he asked.   
“Everybody has a type,” she answered, “but it’s not always about looks.”

“What’s mine about then?” he asked.   
“Congruence,” she answered promptly.   
“What now?”   
“Congruence, you like people who aren’t afraid to be who they are, people who are true to themselves and their principles in words and deeds,” she replied, “and you like to be acknowledged you for who you are, instead of who you are expected to be. People who do that, are your type on a personal level. The average noble doesn’t do any of those things.”

“You’ve put thought into this,” he commented.   
“Some,” she admitted, “early in our relationship.”   
“How early?” he asked curiously.   
“Hmm,” she giggled softly, “earlier than I’d like to admit.”   
“Before our first kiss?” he asked with a playful half-smile.   
“Before we kissed, yes,” Fela admitted.   
“Hold on,” he raised a hand, “were you trying to figure out how to woo me?” She flashed a bashful smile.   
“I was. But there was more to it.”   
“Such as?”   
“You lost Duncan,” she said, “you were grieving, and to be there for you I needed to figure out what you needed.”   
“Oh? What was that?”   
“A good genuine hug, for one. And to be acknowledged, free of expectations and without being judged.”   
“That was all it took, huh?” he grinned.   
“To be fair you were doing your fair share of wooing,” she replied, getting up to kiss his cheek.   
“Which you encouraged,” he said, catching her wrist and lifting her knuckles to his lips.   
“Of course I did,” she replied when he kissed her hand, “a good heart, a good head, _and_ incredibly handsome. How often do you find all of those in one complete package?” He chuckled.   
“I do like being called handsome.” Fela bent down to kiss his lips.   
“It’s the truth.”

He pulled her into his lap, Fela wrapped her arms around his shoulders and settled into his chest, letting out a contented sigh when Alistair wrapped his arms around her.

“You know what you needed?” he asked when she’d settled in.   
“Hmm?” she responded expectantly.   
“The exact same thing,” he replied. Fela chuckled at that.   
“We did share a lot of the same crap.”   
“So much crap,” Alistair said with a sigh, “what did we ever do to deserve all of that?”   
“Must have been something terrible,” Fela chuckled.   
“We got each other out of it though,” he replied with a shrug, “maybe not all _that_ terrible.”   
“True,” she said and paused, “worth it,” she said decidedly. Alistair chuckled and kissed her cheek.   
“Worth it indeed.”

“There you are, we are about ready to leave oh-” Eamon halted abruptly when he noticed Fela sitting in Alistair’s lap, “pardon me.”   
“It’s alright,” Fela said, “you said we’re about ready to go?”   
“Yes, the carriage is waiting outside,” Eamon replied, “whenever you are ready, of course.”   
“We’ll be right there,” Alistair said, nudging Fela to stand up before getting to his feet, “and it’s about time.” Eamon gave Alistair a sympathetic smile, bowed, and left.

“Let’s find Asher,” Alistair said when the Arl had closed the door behind him, “he’s probably raiding the pantry.”   
“Perfect,” Fela said with a bright smile, “I want to raid the pantry too.”


	75. The Road To Highever

Alistair didn’t stay in the carriage for very long, after a few hours of watching the pasture go by at the slowest possible pace, he’d taken over from the driver.

Eamon felt this was highly inappropriate, the King driving his own carriage, but Alistair wouldn’t hear it. Not that he had a particular fondness for driving carriages but it allowed him to increase the pace a bit. Fela sat next to him, enjoying being away from the city and pretending there wasn’t a huge train of more carriages and wagons behind them. And a squad of guards in front of _and_ beside them. And a dozen of scouts ahead of them. And Fela was completely and utterly bored.

“I don’t think I can stand this for a full three months,” she sighed, “we’re going _so slow._ ” She leaned her elbow on her knee as she stared ahead.   
“Do you want to walk for a bit?” Alistair asked.   
“Nah, slow as this is, it’s still faster than walking,” she replied, “I want to _ride._ ”   
“I know honey,” Alistair said sympathetically, “how about we spar when we make camp tonight?” She chuckled.   
“Offering exercise to make me feel better?”   
“You wait ‘til I get you alone and I’ll show you exercise,” he said quietly with a suggestive sideways glance at the frustrated woman beside him. She nudged him with her shoulder in response.   
“I’m holding you to that.”   
“Don’t you always?” Alistair laughed.   
“Yeah, yeah,” she replied, “I’m a woman with a healthy sex drive, bite me.”   
“I plan to,” he quipped.   
“You’d better,” she warned.   
“Darling, I always keep my promises,” he said smoothly.   
“I know, I’m just putting it out there,” she answered and leaned over to kiss his neck just below his ear.   
“You want to play ‘I spy’ in the meantime?” Alistair said playfully.   
“Sure, you start,” she replied with a chuckle and leaned into him.

“I spy with my little eye…” Alistair paused while he looked around, “something that starts with T.”   
“Tree.”   
“No.”   
“Tack and saddle.”   
“No.”   
“Tusket.”   
“No.”   
“Two-handed sword.”   
"No."  
“Targes.”   
“No.”   
“Teagan!”   
“Nope.”   
“Ser Tomas.”   
“No.”   
“Tree?”   
“Still no.”   
“I give up.”

“Tomtit,” Alistair said with a smirk. Fela laughed.   
“Oho, that’s good,” she dragged out the last word before adding, “I think they’re technically blue tits by the way.”   
“Yeah, but tomtit sounds funnier,” Alistair said and gave her a boyish grin.   
“I don’t know, I think blue tit is pretty funny, the mental image is…” she made an indecisive gesture with both hands, “well I don’t have a mental image with tomtits. I do with blue tits.”   
“I see your point,” Alistair said thoughtfully, “though I find it hard to imagine how you’d end up with blue tits.”

“Excellent question,” Fela said enthusiastically, “I think if my tits got really cold somehow they might turn blue, you know, like my hands do. Blue tits.”   
“Cold boobs huh, I don’t know. Might be funnier if the bird’s chests were actually blue. Yellow tits might be more appropriate,” he answered.   
“How would a person end up with yellow tits?” Fela asked, “that’s no better than tomtits.”   
“What if you imagined the heads of tomcats?” Alistair opted, earning a laugh from his wife. He made a groping gesture with one hand in front of his chest and switched to a high-pitched tone.   
“Meow.” Fela laughed so hard she doubled over, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning her head in her hands. Never noticing the smug look on Alistair’s face.   
“Alright, tomtits win,” she finally said through her laughter, “good mental image, bravo.”

“You know, I think the bards might have a field day with a poem about the King and Queen of Ferelden bantering over tomtits, blue tits, and yellow tits,” Zevran said as he rode up.   
“Well it can’t be _all_ eloquent, diplomatic, professional conversation, now can it?” Alistair said and greeted the assassin with a smile.   
“Cariño, your discourse on the mental images elicited by the name of a small bird was a perfectly eloquent, diplomatic, and professional conversation,” Zevran said with a smirk,   
“I am simply pointing out that the subject of your dialogue is a particularly entertaining one. Nice one on the tomcat tits,” he added with a respectful nod. Alistair gave a slight bow at the waist.   
“Thank you kindly.”   
“Leliana would say our banter reminds the people that _we’re_ people too,” Fela said with a smirk to match Zevran’s.   
“Ah, the good old days of travelling a country that smells like dog everywhere during a Blight with what you once called ‘our band of armed lunatics,’” Zevran said, “is it weird that I miss those days?”   
“Minus the Blight?” Fela asked with an arched eyebrow.   
“Naturally.”

“Then no,” Alistair and Fela said in unison, “we miss it too,” Fela added.   
“Minus the Blight,” Alistair added.   
“Even the fighting,” he continued, “amongst ourselves, or with bandits, hitmen, highwaymen, darkspawn, werewolves, dragon cultists, golems, mad Paragons…” he let out a dreamy sigh, “no more cracking skulls for us. We have been restricted to a training yard.”

“I miss Sten,” Fela said, “always lumbering behind me and watching my back.”   
“You’ve got guards for that now,” Alistair pointed out.   
“They’re not Sten,” Fela shrugged.   
“Our large friend certainly had a strong presence,” Zevran said.   
“You mean he was scary,” Alistair said flatly.   
“And wasn’t that the _best?_ ” she asked rhetorically, “nobody bugs you when a guy like Sten glares at everyone that comes near.”   
“What about Asher?” Zevran asked, pointing at the Mabari padding next to the horses. The dog looked over his shoulder at the mention of his name, tripped, and scrambled back up to quickly resume his pace, flashing a wide doggy-grin the whole time.

“Yes, but the brave ones know he would never bite unless I told him to,” Fela replied, “I kind of want to sic him on someone…” she added darkly.   
“Let’s avoid a public scandal,” Alistair said brightly, “and if you absolutely _have_ to have one, at least keep the dog out of it.” Asher made a sound like he wouldn’t mind being part of a public scandal, and Fela cooed at the four-footer what a good boy he was.

“No public scandals,” Fela agreed, “I’ll behave.”   
“You’re bored, aren’t you?” Zevran asked knowingly.   
“By the Maker, yes!” she sighed, “I want to go out, get drunk in a tavern and get in a fight. I want to break someone’s jaw, smash bottles, set something on fire, break stuff…”   
“Wow,” Alistair said with one placating hand in the air, “easy, there. Let’s not go on a full frenzy.”   
“Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off, “I said I’d behave, just because I _want_ to do those things doesn’t mean I will. Not anytime soon at least,” she added sullenly.   
“I’ll gladly take you on a tavern dive, dearest,” Zevran said, “when circumstances allow it.”   
“Hey, that’s my wife you’re inviting on a tavern dive,” Alistair cut in, “if anybody is taking her to a seedy bar, it’s me.”   
“Or we make it a real party and the three of us team up,” Fela offered.   
“We should get Oghren, Teagan, and Magnus too then,” Alistair replied, “and maybe our herd of goats,” he added after brief consideration.   
“Oh, yes! the Mitsy drinking game! Even better with a whole herd of Mitsies,” Zevran said enthusiastically.

The conversation was interrupted when Teagan rode up to inform them the scouts had found a suitable place to make camp not too far from where they were. They send some people ahead with the quartermaster to get started on setting up tents and determining places for the wagons and animals they had brought along. Besides the horses, there were more than a few Mabari.

Ferelden nobles prized their hounds, so along they came. Mabari were more of a help than a hassle on a journey like this. And not only because they made excellent watch dogs, their presence kept other predators at bay and they were a great help with hunting. Asher had caught his share of rabbits, geese, pheasant, and other small game during the Blight. And the other

Mabari were doing the same for their masters.

* * *

“Alright, let’s set the rules,” Alistair said as he unbuckled his sword belt and set it against a log.   
“Leather armor, no weapons, no blows below this line,” she held up a hand just above her midriff, “or above this line,” she held up another hand just below her hips, “no knocking each other out, no creative use of our surroundings, and no body-slamming.”   
“No body-slamming?” Alistair asked with a raised eyebrow. Fela shrugged.   
“It feels like getting body slammed when you jump on top of me. Manage your size and weight. Oh, and all rules go both ways, it’s only fair.”   
“Got it,” Alistair said, “and Zevran?”   
“I watch but I don’t comment,” he said brightly and gave Fela a little wave.

She returned it and disarmed before tying her hair back and tugging at her armour a bit. It didn’t fit as snugly as it once did, her belly was getting in the way. As well as her breasts and her behind. Leather armor allowed for more movement and speed because it was supple, but it was by no means meant to accommodate a pregnant woman’s changing body. It was getting tight.

People who hadn’t seen her in armour for as long as Zevran and Alistair had might not notice. But to Fela, the changes were uncomfortably clear. Her second skin now crept up her crotch due to her growing ass, pinched her waist due to her growing belly, and her breasts barely still fit in. Alistair had to help her strap it on properly. The leggings were too tight around her thighs, resulting in a sensation like someone was constantly tugging them down. All in all, it had gotten very uncomfortable.

And that made her cranky.

Alistair took a quick sip of water from a canteen before nodding that he was ready. Fela didn’t waste any time circling and testing him. They were beyond that in their training sessions together. She came at Alistair hard, unleashing a series of punches. He blocked and evaded each one, matching her speed closely enough to keep her off but not enough to allow him strikes of his own. Fela mostly aimed at his shoulders, chest and arms, neither of them bothering to defend the area they had agreed was off limits.

Bellies didn’t participate in this session, so their attacks were restricted. Fela didn’t worry he might instinctively hit her in her stomach, he was too in control for that. One of the perks of being trained as a Templar. Plus, his paternal instincts seemed to have kicked in early. It resulted in a quick dance of fists and palms, Fela on the offensive, and Alistair matching her blow for blow.

Fela thrust her open palm at Alistair’s chest, he twisted away and hit her palm from the side, redirecting the strike and guiding it past him. Fela followed the movement, turned, and used her momentum for a backhanded strike. He bent back to let her fist sail past his face and attempted to grab her wrist. She twisted her arm, and Alistair’s grip faltered. She took the opportunity to hit his elbow with her free fist, making his hand go numb.

Grabbing her around her waist was off the table, so he opted for the scruff of her neck instead. She let out an angry hiss and hit his other elbow viciously. Both of his hands gone numb, he was forced to defend. Then Fela did… something, and he suddenly found one of his arms twisted tightly behind his back. He tried to turn, twist himself free but she moved with him. And next thing he knew he found himself on his knees, leaning on his free hand to keep Fela from pushing him face down into the dirt.

“Ok, you win,” he panted and she let go of her hold on him.   
“What was that? Grabbing my neck like you did?” she asked menacingly.   
“Bad kitty?” Alistair offered and gave her his best shot at puppy eyes. Her expression softened somewhat and she offered a hand to pull him up.   
“Me or you?”   
“Definitely you,” he replied and rubbed one of his elbows, “you’re mean.” She gave a soft chuckle.   
“Tell me where it hurts and I’ll kiss it better.”   
“In private, right?” Alistair asked and pointed at Zevran who was watching the exchange with an innocent smile.   
“Depends on where it hurts,” she said with a shrug and moved to drink from her canteen.   
“Ok, I have to be honest here,” she said after a few good swallows, “my armor is _really_ uncomfortable.” She proceeded to undo some of the clasps and let out a sigh of relief, then frowned and loosened the lacings on her leggings too.

Zevran arched an eyebrow at her but didn’t say anything.   
“Sorry Zev, I’m not trying to bait you,” she said with a sigh.   
“It’s alright, cariño,” he replied, “I can tell you’re uncomfortable.”   
“Yeah… I’ve been putting on weight,” she replied and ran her hands across her belly, “it was going to happen sooner or later.”   
“Why don’t we find you something more comfortable and a nice fire to curl up to,” Alistair said and put an arm around her waist, “or do you want to spar some more?”   
“I’m afraid my leggings will sag off my ass if we do,” she admitted. Alistair chuckled sympathetically.   
“You can wear my pants, there should be plenty of room in those.”   
“I’d like that actually,” she replied, “did you bring an old pair?”   
“You can have any pair,” he answered, “I’m pretty sure we brought my _entire_ wardrobe.”

Fela lay stretched out on a mountain of pillows, wearing cotton pants and a tunic from Alistair’s wardrobe. She lay with her head in Alistair’s lap, enjoying the feeling of him idly playing with her hair while Zevran brewed them a pot of tea. It smelled of apples and cinnamon, with a hint of citrus. Asher was watching the assassin work with great interest, curious about the smells coming from the brew.

Alistair was telling them about his time as a Grey Warden before the battle of Ostagar, softly chatting away while Zevran and Fela occasionally commented or asked a question. It wasn’t quite like their time during the Blight, it was actually much more comfortable, but it got pretty close.

Fela imagined they were at one of their old campsites as she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the clicking of Wynne’s knitting needles and the soft melody coming from Leliana’s lute. She imagined Morrigan working on her potions, the soft crushing sounds of her mortar and pestle, accompanied by the sound of Sten sharpening his blade. She suspected he sometimes tried to match the rhythm of Leliana’s song. Though he’d probably never admit it.

Fela sat up to take the cup of tea Zevran offered, thanking him and settling back into the pillows with her legs folded under her.   
“This is nice,” she sighed while breathing in the tea. Alistair ran a hand down her back affectionately, inviting her to lean into him. He put an arm around her when she did and kissed the top of her head.   
“You two are almost making me feel lonely,” Zevran sighed as he handed Alistair his cup.   
“Sorry, Zev,” Alistair said, “but you’re not guilting me into asking you to get in on this.” He shrugged.   
“It was worth a try.”   
“Does it bother you that there have been rumours circulating about us three?” Alistair asked.   
“I like to think of those rumours as wishful thinking,” he said easily, “your noble subjects see three attractive people who spend a lot of time together, and their minds run wild. Perhaps they are hoping to take my ‘place’ hmm?”   
“Your ‘place,’” Fela snorted lazily, “as if it is a position than can be taken.”   
“Oh I know, cariño,” Zevran replied with an easy smile, “but _they_ don’t.”

“Seriously, you’re not bothered by people who seem to think we employ you as a bedwarmer?” Alistair asked.   
“Nah,” Zevran shrugged, “the trick is not to take it personally, if Oghren or Sten had been in my position, they would have been saying the same thing about them.”   
“You really think so?” Alistair asked.   
“Absolutely,” Zevran replied, “it’s the position, not the man.”   
“He’s right,” Fela said, “they probably feel threatened by the striking Antivan assassin who has our ear, we added a new element to the game of court and they still need to get used to it. It’ll pass.”

“Are _you_ bothered by the rumours, Alistair?” Zevran asked with a wink.   
“Not really,” he said, “I was just wondering if all this attention makes your job any harder.”   
“It does,” Zevran said, “many know my face by now, and it’s an easy face to remember,” he traced his vallaslin, “but the fact that I am still successful attests to my skill, no?”   
“I suppose it does,” Alistair said, “how is the investigation concerning our serial burglar going?” Zevran frowned.   
“He’s gone silent, maybe because he’s dead, maybe because he left town, maybe he figured he was finally rich enough, who knows. But the trail has gone cold, nobody is fencing any of the stolen items either.”   
“Maybe an ex-Crow coming after him was enough for him to retire?” Alistair opted.

“How do you even know all those burglaries were done by the same person?” Fela cut in, “it could have just been a crimewave caused by the aftermath of the Blight. People have lost much.”   
“The method,” Zevran said, “usually, when people go robbing nobles, they break a lock, or smash a window, loot a single room, and get out. This one, apparently takes his sweet time visiting multiple rooms, even ones that have people sleeping in it.”   
“That’s… creepy…” Alistair said with a frown.   
“Hence why Lord such and such tried to hire me to kill them,” Zevran replied, “if this guy can sneak into their bedrooms without waking them up, what’s to stop him from slitting their throats?”

“So we have a thief that takes extraordinary risks, but none of the stolen items are being fenced,” Fela surmised, “what’s he getting out of it? A collection of trophies?”   
“Possibly,” Zevran said, “I don’t know, there might even be a patron to this burglar.”   
“Who would want to be a patron to a burglar?” Alistair asked.   
“Someone who is extremely bored? Someone who likes to pretend he’s a crime boss in his spare time? Or someone who has some beef with the families that got hit?” Fela replied.   
“All possible,” Zevran replied, “but with a cold trail I’m not getting anywhere.”   
“As long as the problem is solved,” Alistair said with a shrug.   
“Technically we don’t know if the problem is solved,” Zevran quipped, “should I find our culprit, whether he is still active or not, I wholly expect to be paid.”   
“Then find me our culprit,” he retorted. 

“When was the last break-in?” Fela asked. Zevran thought for a while.   
“About two months ago.”   
“And the intervals between break-ins before that?” she continued.   
“They varied, sometimes days, sometimes weeks. But never more than three,” Zevran said.   
“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully.

“Why do you ask?” Zevran inquired.   
“Just curious about the timeline,” she said, “and you are absolutely certain they were all done by the same person?”   
“I am,” he replied.   
“Because of the method,” she added.   
“Indeed,” Zevran said.   
“Well… if you are looking for a trail, I’d start with figuring out the method,” Fela said thoughtfully, “figure out his steps, try to imagine what kind of person might have the access or skill needed.”   
“Dear Fela, are you suggesting we go solve a crime together?” Zevran asked with a sideways smirk.   
“Me? No, for obvious reasons,” she said as she gestured at her stomach, “but you want to get paid, don’t you?” Zevran bowed.   
“Naturally, I appreciate the advice, cariño. Might I call upon you as a consultant in the future?”   
“Of course,” she replied, “I could probably get you access to the Estates of previous break-ins too if you like.”   
“That would be wonderful,” Zevran purred, “it will be easier to investigate if I am allowed to freely wander these Estates, I keep getting interrupted and then I have to hide. It’s tedious.”

* * *

It took them nearly a month to reach Highever.

Of course, Highever wasn’t the only destination, along the way there were Arlings and the Bannorn to visit. Though neither Fela nor Alistair could get used to the slow pace of travel, it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant undertaking. Some nobles danced around Fela like she was a bomb waiting to go off. But others, like Leonas Bryland, treated her like an old friend. His daughter, Habren, however, gave her a wide berth.

Then again, the differences between the two were numerous. Habren liked shopping, fashion, and drinking tea with her friends in a fancy parlour while they gossiped about men they found attractive and women they didn’t like. Fela, was one of those women. She made no secret of her dislike for what she considered pampered puffs that couldn’t even wipe their own asses after taking a shit. The dramatic-princes-in-distress-act, as she called it, annoyed her to no end.

When Habren lamented breaking a nail, Fela had told her to whine to someone who cared. When Habren’s friend Anabel started screaming because she saw a toad close to her tent, she had told the girl to shut her trap and send her pet-fennec to eat it. When Anabel had protested that she would never feed her Cuddly-wuddly nasty things like toads, Fela had called her an ignorant tart, picked up the toad, and fed it to the fennec herself to prove her point.

Fela could be a bit of a bitch, and lately the pregnancy had been thinning her patience. Alistair knew her to be fully capable of getting her point across without insulting Anabel or Habren, but she didn’t bother. In other words, Fela was sabotaging herself quite effectively amongst the more domesticated of noblewomen. And it was up to Alistair to maintain the role of diplomat.

He found himself suited to that quite well, Fela currently being too volatile to fulfill the part. If he were honest, he would admit that he had expected her to be the puppet master of the court. That noblewomen would be looking at her as an example and that they would work hard to curry her favour. While they were careful to be respectful to her face, they burned her down when they thought Fela wouldn’t notice.

Fact was, that she _did_ notice. And Fela had decided it wasn’t worth the trouble to try and befriend them, she had no use for ‘friends’ who talked shit behind her back. Neither did she consider spoiled daughters who aimed for nothing more in life than finding a rich husband interesting. The ones actually in power, she got along with just fine.

Things were different for Alistair, they didn’t know him before, he had a clean slate to start with. On top of that, he was regarded as a hero _and_ he was their King. Meaning their attitudes towards him were very different. Alistair was new to the court, and that meant he caught people’s interest for a variety of reasons.

He tried to go along with it. Some genuinely wanted to get to know him, others were more interested in his part in stopping the Blight. A few asked after his relationship with Fela during that time, some from a romantic interest, others from a strategic one. Things had been going well, he didn’t make an ass of himself and he had been establishing a substantial number of political connections of his own. So far, the trip had been a success. And both Alistair and Fela had been pleased with the results of their efforts.

As they had been nearing Highever, Fela had gotten quieter. Alistair had asked her about it, worried that she might be anxious. Fela had not returned to Highever since she had fled the castle with Asher and Duncan, and although she told him it was fine, he could tell that it wasn’t. Though she worked hard to hide it, Alistair could tell. She leaned against him as she stared out of the small windows of the carriage. Alistair had his arms around her, resting his hands on her round belly.

It wasn’t very big yet, but she was definitely starting to show. She could still hide it under her clothes, but in private, when she put on something more comfortable, like a pair of Alistair’s pants and a tank top, it was starting to get obvious. He suspected she liked that, letting her rounding belly show instead of hiding it. She may have been restless, frustrated with her restricted physical activities, but she enjoyed her pregnancy too. At times she displayed such blissful happiness it made Alistair go all warm and fuzzy inside.

But right now, she was tense. He could feel it in her stomach, where he rested his hands.

“Fela?”   
“Hmm?”   
“I can tell you’re anxious.” Fela sighed, sitting up and turning to be able to look at Alistair.   
“I keep thinking about the night Duncan and I fled Highever,” she admitted.   
“It won’t be as you remember it,” he said soothingly, “it’ll be different.”   
“I know,” she sighed, “I keep reminding myself of that.”   
“But the anxiety won’t go away?” he asked rhetorically and she nodded.   
“I’m trying to steer my thoughts elsewhere, but they keep crawling in…” she said quietly.   
“Have you considered they might be the result of trauma?” he asked gently.   
“Yes,” she replied in a dodgy tone, “but I haven’t admitted that yet.”   
“Why wouldn’t you?” Alistair continued.   
“Because I don’t want it to be this way,” she said quietly before adding, “I know, I know, wishing it were so does not make it true.”   
“But?”   
“I want to feel as if I am going home,” she replied, “but I don’t. I feel like… like I did when we went back to Ostagar only worse.”   
“Fela, the last time you were at Highever was the night you fled, when you lost your home and your family,” Alistair said gently, “you’re experiencing post-traumatic stress.” She made an indifferent sort of noise.

“Being stubborn isn’t going to make it go away,” he said sternly.   
“Wanna bet?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. Alistair sighed and shook his head.   
“Just tell me what you need.”   
“I don’t know right now,” she sighed, “just hold me and let me get back to you on that, ok?”   
“Alright, I can do that,” he replied and pulled her back into his arms.

Fela didn't like admitting it, but she was a little damaged. How could she not be after all the shit she had to wade through? She was stubborn though, fighting for control over the situation rather than admitting that it was making her miserable. 

She remained quiet the last few miles to Highever, fidgeting with a foot and frowning at it.


	76. Return to Highever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and smut, and hopefully some humour. The title should tell you enough; Fela returns to Highever.

Fela’s heart thundered in her chest as she felt the carriage come to a stop.

They were in the courtyard, within the castle walls. She focussed on her breathing, gripping Alistair’s hand tightly. He gave hers a squeeze back, as a form of reassurance. When the driver opened the door, Alistair stepped out first offering Fela his hand to help her down.

Fela quickly took in her surroundings, she felt skittish, vulnerable. She had expected to see signs of a battle, broken walls, bloodstains, scorch marks, anything. But she saw none of that. She saw unfamiliar faces and newly built stables, and somehow that was worse than the signs of battle she had expected. It reminded her she had been gone for nearly two years, and during that time, other people had made this place their home. Highever had moved on and changed while she was gone, it was no longer the Highever she once knew.

Fela’s attention was jerked back to current events when she saw her brother. And although Highever itself felt strange and unfamiliar, the sight of her brother’s grin felt like home.

“My King,” he said solemnly and gave Alistair a deep bow. Then he turned to Fela, “my Queen,” and gave her an identical bow.   
“Quit messing around,” Fela replied and approached to give Fergus a hug. He chuckled as he hugged her back.   
“Welcome home Fae.” He released her to clasp arms with Alistair.   
“It’s good to see you Fergus,” he said and smiled.   
“The pleasure is all mine,” Fergus said with a playful smirk, “I trust you’ve had a safe journey?”   
“If safe equals boring, then yes,” Fela quipped before Alistair could answer.   
“We’re glad to be here,” Alistair said with a sideways glance at his wife, “Fela’s been bored out of her mind in that carriage.”   
“An odd choice of transportation, considering your love for riding,” he said while he arched an eyebrow at Fela.   
“I know right,” she said innocently, “shall we go inside? I’m hungry.” Alistair gave Fergus an apologetic shrug.   
“I’m kind of hungry too.” He laughed.

“Alright, fine. Come on, we stocked the larder just for you two.” A pained flicker flashed across Fela’s face at the mention of the kitchen larder. Fergus noticed.   
“Hey, are you ok?”   
“No, I’m not,” she said quietly, “but I’d rather talk in private.” Fergus nodded and led the way.

Fela quietly took stock of the changes. Blood sodden carpets, smashed and burned furniture, and torn draperies had been replaced. Corpses and debris had been removed, bloodstains cleaned. It was like they were never even there. She stopped after setting a few steps into the great hall, where Ser Gilmore had urged her to run. Where they said their goodbye. She went numb. There was no battering ram pounding on the doors now, the sound of shouting, clanging armor, and wails of the dying had long since echoed off the walls.

She didn’t hear anything.

She turned, heading for the servant’s passage she and her mother had taken to reach the kitchen. Asher dutifully padding along. Alistair and Fergus shared a look, before following. She made her way down the passage, it was clean. There were no pools of blood, no broken bodies of the defenceless. She remembered the smell, the metallic tang of blood. It had been overwhelming, she had stumbled resting one hand on the wall for support. She ran her hand along that same spot now, finding no trace of the blood she had smeared on it. Hers or some Howe soldier’s, perhaps even a bunch, she didn’t really remember. It had been an _intense_ killing spree.

Alistair and Fergus watched her slowly move down the passage, seemingly unaware of their presence. She stopped when she reached the spot where she had found Nan. Unbeknownst to either Fergus or Alistair. Of the people who would have used that passage, Fela was the only one to make it out. They couldn’t see what Fela saw in her mind’s eye.

She entered the kitchen, ignoring the servants going about their tasks, she made for the larder.   
“Everyone,” Fergus said when he realised why Fela had gone there, “could you give us a moment please?” The servants bowed and all took their leave, leaving Alistair, Fergus, Fela, and Asher alone in the kitchen. The Mabari hung his head when Fela opened the door to the larder.

It looked like nothing had ever happened.

Fela stood frozen in the doorframe, staring down at the stone where her father had bled to death. Where she had left her mother, knowing she would die there. She felt cold, unsure whether it was a good thing that there were no puddles of dried blood or not. Some part of her wanted to sink to her knees, wanted to scream and weep until all her sorrow had bled out of her. Instead, she froze over. Hands balled into fists, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Alistair watched as Fela stared at the ground. He couldn’t see her face from his position behind her, but her posture said enough. The atmosphere around her grew heavy with sorrow, smothering the light coming in from high windows so she could hide herself in shadow. Alistair cast a look at Fergus to gauge his response to his sister’s effects on her surroundings, only to find the darker man observing him.

Fergus’ expression was unreadable, meaning Alistair had absolutely no idea of what the man was thinking. But if he had been surprised, or even afraid, surely he would show it? From that, Alistair deduced Fergus must be familiar with the occasional anomaly on Fela’s account. But even Alistair had only seen Fela affect her surroundings this way on a few occasions. And he was pretty sure Fela had been… developing, during that time. She still was.

Fela’s sorrow bled into the air around her, it was impossible not to feel it. Alistair felt his stomach tying itself into tight knots and his heart tire and falter. Like it tripped and continued with a limp. He was absorbing his wife’s grief, he realised. But not on account of anything he did, it was her, she was pouring it into the air he breathed. It filled his lungs and entered his bloodstream. When he glanced back at Fergus, he could tell by the man’s changed expression he felt it too.

“Have their bodies been found?” Fela asked barely above a whisper. Fergus put a hand on Fela’s shoulder.   
“They have been given a proper funeral pyre.” Fela gave an absent sort of nod, Rendon Howe wouldn’t have had the decency to do that, which meant that Fergus had found them. After he returned.

“What was left of them,” Fela concluded bitterly.

Fergus didn’t respond, because Fela was correct in her assessment. He had pulled his son, his wife, and both his parents from the ditch they were left to rot in. He had hoped not to burden his sister with that knowledge but it wasn’t hard to figure out.

“Let’s go,” Fergus said quietly, “we can be miserable in a more comfortable setting.” Fela let out a strangled chuckle at that, and some of her aura lifted.   
“Hang on,” she said and proceeded to load a plate with some of the buns and pastries the servants had been making, “lead the way.”

* * *

Fela leaned against Alistair on a plush sofa.

Most of the furniture had been replaced, either because it had been damaged or because Howe put it there. Fergus had made the keep his own, banishing Howe’s brief presence. Fela approved of that. Alistair had one arm wrapped around her, resting his hand in her waist.

“So that was… intense,” Fergus said lightly as he poured three glasses of wine. Fela sniffed hers, and promptly set it on the table, deciding she didn’t like it. Neither did she like brandy these days, or ale. Wynne said it was a natural development, and had advised her not to drink anymore alcohol for the duration of her pregnancy. But Fergus didn’t know that yet.   
“Yeah, uh,” Fela stammered, “I guess I needed the ‘assurance…’” Alistair’s arm tightened a little, holding her a little closer as a way of offering comfort.

“Are you alright? Being here after what happened?” Fergus asked. She shrugged.   
“I need to make new memories, to replace the most recent ones. I don’t like those very much,” she added darkly.   
“The place is filled with memories,” Fergus sighed.   
“It’s not defined by them,” Fela countered, “the edge will wear.”   
“Just takes time, right? Well, time is slow,” he answered with a bitter smile.   
“Slow as a fat slug,” Fela agreed, “and I’ll admit to being a bit more emotional than usual.” Alistair suppressed a laugh, then yelped when Fela jabbed two fingers into his side. Fergus arched an eyebrow, and his gaze flickered to Fela’s stomach and back to her face.

“Something you want to tell me? Sister dearest?”   
“We’re having a baby,” Fela replied, “I’m about four months along.” Fergus smiled, then laughed, stood and bent at the waist to hug his little sister.   
“Four months pregnant,” Fergus said and looked her over, “I thought you looked fat,” he quipped with a smirk. Fela punched him just below his sternum.   
“Watch your mouth,” she snarled when Fergus let out a pained ‘oomph,’ “pregnant or not pregnant, you never call a lady fat. You idiot.”   
“You’re not fat,” Alistair said soothingly, “just bigger than before.” Fela rolled her eyes.   
“Flatterer.”

Fergus straightened with a groan and a few laboured breaths.   
“Ok, not fat then,” he croaked, “you look radiant, little sister, all glowing and-”   
_“Mouth!”_ Fela growled, and pointed a finger at her brother. Who held up his hands in defeat and smiled.   
“Alright, alright,” he said, “how about ‘congratulations’ then?”   
“Better,” she replied with a small pout. Fergus chuckled and sat down with a sigh.

“Maker, Fae, how did we get here?”   
“Where I’m married to a good and respectable man and carrying his baby?” Fela said wryly.   
“Yeah,” he sighed.   
“Makes it harder to swallow they’re gone, doesn’t it,” she replied softly. Fergus nodded quietly, and ran a hand through his hair while he took a deep breath.

“I’m happy for you Fae, I really am-”   
“But it reminds you of Orren and Oriana, and it’s a sharp reminder they have been taken from you,” Fela said, “it’s ok. It’s a sharp reminder for me too.”

Fergus briefly met her gaze, but it was hard to hold it. He didn’t want her to absorb what he felt, that memories of those first few months of Oriana’s pregnancy left him feeling hollow, that the memory of holding his son for the first time broke his heart. His baby boy.

Fergus grimaced as he turned away, struggling to maintain his composure. Fela moved from her spot, nestled under Alistair’s arm, to sit down next to her brother on the other sofa.

“Come here,” she said gently and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She sat on her knees to be able to reach, he was tall. Fergus’ composure broke when he turned to return his sister’s embrace, he let out a strangled sob as he put his head on her shoulder where she cradled it with one hand.   
“I’m so sorry Fergus,” she whispered, and he shattered. He could feel the swell of her stomach when he wrapped his arms around her midsection, it triggered a stream of memories that cut through him with each strangled breath and sob.

Some part of him wondered if he should be bothered by Alistair’s presence while he wept in his sister’s arms, but he just couldn’t find it within himself to give a shit. Helpless, broken, and lost as he felt, it just didn’t seem that important. Fela leaned her cheek against the side of his head, softly humming an old song their mother used to sing. She was crying too, he could feel it in the shuddering breaths she took and the wetness in his hair where her cheek rested against it.

Alistair did his best not to be awkward, but it must be said that it’s difficult to act natural when you are watching two people sharing a staggering amount of grief. Fela’s sorrow was palpable again, cloaking both her and Fergus in soft shadows. It looked comforting, like she was shielding him somehow. He felt her guilt too, though she probably knew it wasn’t justified, she felt guilty that she was having a baby, knowing that Fergus had lost his wife and son. Their family was gone, and now that Fela and Alistair were starting a new one… it made it more definitive somehow. Because they were moving on.

She was hurting, the loss of her family more keenly felt than ever. Once there were only two people Fela could have tolerated to fuss over her during pregnancy. Her mother, and Oriana. Because that was just right, wasn’t it? That more experienced mothers would guide a new one. Who better than her mother and her sister?

So it was wrong, it was all wrong. That their family had been torn to shreds. It was just Fela and Fergus now, the only ones left of the family they came from. And Alistair felt powerless to do anything about it. So he watched his knees, where Asher rested his massive head as he petted the Mabari absently, and did his best to let them have their moment.

Eventually, both calmed somewhat. Fergus wiped his face with his sleeve as Fela released him, then wiped her face with his other sleeve. Fela let out a little chuckle at that.   
“Ah, look at us,” Fergus sighed, “two slobbering messes.”   
“Yeah, we have a good excuse though,” Fela said with a small smile.   
“You’re at a disadvantage,” he quipped, “the pregnancy hormones made Oriana absolutely crazy.” Fela smiled a little wider, it almost reached her eyes.   
“Yeah, I remember.”   
“What about you?” he asked.   
“Oh, I was nuts before I got knocked up,” Fela replied, “so I’m pretty much borderline insane now.”   
“It can’t be that bad,” Fergus said soothingly.   
“Ask Alistair,” Fela said with a shrug. Fergus turned to look at the man sitting across from him.   
“How about it, borderline insane, or just crazy?”

Alistair blinked a few times before responding. He almost thought they had forgotten he was there, he kind of _hoped_ they’d forgotten he was there.

“I uh…” Alistair began, “feel so absolutely cornered right now I’m afraid to answer.”   
“See,” Fela said, “borderline insane.”   
“Wait, do you feel cornered because you’re afraid she’ll maim you no matter the answer,” Fergus asked while pointing a thumb at Fela, “or have we made things so awkward in here you have no idea how to act and you kind of wish you weren’t here right now?”   
“Bit of both?” Alistair opted.   
“Sorry about that, welcome to Highever by the way,” Fergus replied with a smirk, and moved to pour Alistair and himself a stronger drink.   
“Don’t worry about it,” Alistair said.

“So,” Fergus said as he handed Alistair his glass, “you, are going to be a father,” he smiled and raised his drink in salute, “congratulations.” Alistair mimicked the motion with his own glass.   
“And to you, uncle Fergus,” he replied, and both of them drank.

“Now,” Fergus said in serious tones as he refilled their glasses, “I’m guessing that the closest thing you guys have to a parent-figure in Denerim, is Eamon. And _that_ simply won’t do.”   
“What do you suggest?” Alistair said with a wide smile, knowing full well what was coming.   
“Highever can take care of itself for a while, and you guys are going to need me.” Fela arched an eyebrow.   
“Are you saying we’ll be bad parents?”   
“No, but figuring out a baby isn’t as straightforward as it may seem,” Fergus said, “it helps to have someone around who knows a thing or two about caring for an infant.”

_“Fergus,”_ Fela said with a sly smile, “are you offering to be my mother hen?”   
“Well I’m not going to help you breathe and push, that’s your job, Alistair, but I know what’s ahead,” Fergus said glibly, “like teething, and diaper rash.”   
“Mother hen it is,” Fela said decisively, “your main job will be keeping Isolde off my back once we announce the pregnancy.”   
“Ah, really?” Fergus said with a distasteful look.   
“Yeah, really,” Fela said, “you’ll know what I mean when something sets her off on babies. It’s probably going to be Alistair.”   
“Hey!” he protested.   
“You make a sport out of it,” Fela said blandly. 

“Any other nobles you want me to keep away from you?” Fergus asked.   
“Habren and Anabel,” Fela replied promptly.   
“Why? What did they do?” he asked.   
“Behave like spoiled little princesses that aim no higher than being someone’s baby dispenser,” she said with disdain, “that reminds me, I’m probably going to get a lot of ‘heir talk’ from Eamon.”   
“I hear you,” Fergus nodded, “I hated it when people did that.”   
“Right!?” Fela and Alistair exclaimed in unison.   
“It’s like they’re not even imagining a baby, but a person to fill a position,” Alistair added.   
“And it’s my job to put it together like a good little wife,” Fela supplemented venomously, “maybe grow a little more complacent too, if I could be bothered.”   
“Alright, people are generally irritating,” Fergus said in understanding tones, “your baby is none of their business, I get it.”   
“ _Thank you!_ ” Fela said exasperatedly.   
“No worries, little sister,” he said easily, “your big brother has your back.” She smiled.   
“Thank you.”

“Will you be joining us for the rest of our tour through the country?” Alistair asked.   
“If you’ll have me,” he replied courteously.   
“Of course we’ll have you,” Fela said warmly, “we’d be glad to.”   
“Wonderful,” Fergus said and clapped his hands, “now, I think that’s enough emotional distress to deal with for one day, why don’t you two rest and I’ll see you at the banquet?”   
“Sounds good,” Alistair replied, and chuckled when Fela yawned.   
“I would love a hot bath,” she sighed.   
“I’ve had your rooms prepared for you,” Fergus said, “they’re still yours, as far as I’m concerned.”   
“You’re the best,” she said and gave Fergus a thumbs up.

* * *

Fela’s rooms were not quite modest.

The furniture was of high quality, but nothing gaudy or overly lavish. Comfortable, snug chairs and a long sofa by the fire. A writing desk and several overstuffed bookcases. Tall windows and doors that led to a balcony overlooking the coastline of the Waking Sea. Plush carpets and rugs covered the floor. There were a few potted plants, and the walls were covered in draperies to keep warmth in during winter, but other than that there were few ornaments or decorations.

Close to the hearth, though still at a sensible distance, lay a pile of furs, blankets, and pillows. For obvious reasons.

Two large wooden doors led to the washroom and the dressing room. And in the corner stood a huge, four-post bed. It was snug, comfortable, and Alistair couldn’t resist flopping down on the enormous bed. Asher, meanwhile, dragged a blanket from the pile and arranged it near the hearth to have a nap.

“Wow, going from _this_ to sleeping in the dirt during the Blight was a long fall down, wasn’t it?” Alistair said as he enjoyed the feeling of sinking into the soft mattress.   
“I never denied that I was spoiled,” she replied flippantly and disappeared into the dressing room. She soon re-emerged in a loose, comfortable robe. Her hair tumbled freely down her shoulders and back.

_Maker, does she look good in red,_ Alistair thought lazily. She dropped down on the bed next to him, nestling into the pillows.

“Oh, _God,_ I missed sleeping in my own bed,” she sighed. Alistair chuckled.   
“Still the same as before?”   
“No, not entirely the same, obviously everything but the frame has been replaced, who knows who’s been in my bed since I left?” Fela said crisply, “I’m not sleeping in a bed that has had Maker knows how many other people in it, that’s disgusting.”   
“What about the times we slept in an inn?” Alistair asked.   
“Good point,” she said, “that’s different, it’s not _my_ bed. When I sleep at an inn I know what it is I’m paying for, and I’m choosing to sleep in it anyway because it’s better than sleeping on the ground. But when it _is_ my bed, in _my_ house, I can’t stand the thought of strangers that I didn’t invite sleeping in it, lying in it, or even sitting on it. _You_ are obviously entitled to sleeping in my bed though,” she added, “I like having you in my bed.” Alistair smirked.   
“You don’t say?” She rolled her eyes.   
“Smug bastard.”   
“ _Royal_ bastard,” Alistair corrected. 

Fela rolled onto her side to look at him, he was smirking up at her and reached to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes at his touch, and let out a purr when his hand teased down her neck.

“You are entirely _too_ smug,” she breathed. It was meant as a scolding, but it didn’t come out as such. Alistair traced her pulse with his index finger.   
“I could always stop talking,” he offered.   
“Your face still looks smug,” she replied obstinately.   
“Then close your eyes, love,” he whispered in her ear, leaning up on one elbow to let his breath ghost over her skin. Another purr escaped her as a pleasant shiver ran down her spine. He kissed the sensitive skin of her neck up to her jaw, nipping at her earlobe before following her jaw to her chin and up to finally kiss her lips.

Fela let out a quiet moan, running her hands through Alistair’s hair as he pressed her back into the pillows with his body. The hand that had lingered in her neck moved down to trace the line of her robe until he reached the tie that held it closed. Leisurely untying it and parting the robe to cup one of her breasts, pleased to find she had taken off her breastband.

She’d been complaining they were too tight these days, Alistair believed every word of it. She’d always had a generous bosom, but right now they were positively huge. Not overly huge, just… just right. He took his time tracing the shape of one breast with his fingertips as he brushed her robe aside, following the touches with his lips. Then moved down her side, following the curve of her waist to her belly and breathing her in as he slowly peeled the robe off her skin. When he reached her hip he was pleased to find she wore no smalls either.

She did that too lately, a new game she played. It was called, ‘want to find out if I’m wearing panties?’ More often than not, the answer was, no. Whether she did it for comfort or to save trouble, Alistair didn’t know for certain. But he suspected it was both.

Fela let out a delighted moan when he nipped the skin just below her hipbone. It was one of the best spots, it made the inguinal muscles ripple and tremble under her skin, causing her leg to twitch. He kissed her stomach while his fingers followed the curve of her hip, revealing more and more of her skin.

“Is it weird that I think it’s kind of hot to know you’re growing heavy with my child?” he whispered against her bellybutton.   
“No, I definitely see the appeal,” she breathed, rubbing a bare leg along his side invitingly.   
“No wonder you’ve been so frisky lately,” he chuckled.   
“You did this to me,” she said indignantly and reached to brush her fingers along his jaw, “come make it better.”

The hand that had been tracing her hip now teased down the outside of her thigh to find the back of her knee and settled it on his shoulder as he moved to lie down between her thighs. He hooked his arm around her upper leg to drag her down a bit so he wouldn’t have to crane his neck while he ran his tongue up her slit.

Fela sighed and closed her eyes, spreading her legs a little wider to allow Alistair better access. She was rewarded with a flat-tongued lick that made her gasp and make a fist in Alistair’s hair. The other wound up somewhere in the blankets beneath her holding a fistful of fabric. He played and teased along her folds, the tip of his tongue delving slightly deeper with each lick. A moan forced itself from her throat when the tip brushed her pearl.

Alistair hummed in appreciation while he drew lazy patterns across the little nub. He lay his forearm across her hips when she bucked against his mouth, holding her still while the fingers of his other hand crept up her thigh. She let out a small cry when he slipped his middle finger up her pussy. She strained to grind her hips against him, whimpering at being held down while she tried to find more contact. Alistair grinned against her thighs when they tightened around his head. He waited for her to relax before continuing his ministrations on her clit and adding another finger before curling them inside her as he moved. Slow, savouring the sounds he elicited from her.

The feeling of Alistair’s tongue on her clit washed all thought from her mind with pleasure. Wet, hot, and soft pleasure, right up her centre. She tried bucking again when he sucked on her clit, and tightened her pussy on his fingers instead when it didn’t work. Alistair had apparently decided she was to lay still. Her efforts amused him though, _Maker,_ she was always so eager. But it would be over too quickly if he let her have her way.

He slowed the thrust of his fingers, drawing out the build-up of her pleasure. He listened to her breathing, easing back down into savoured drawn out breaths. He withdrew his fingers and dipped his tongue down, teasing around her opening. Immediately her breathing picked back up to quick gasping breaths, the anticipation making her tremble. She let out a long moan when he thrust his tongue into her pussy and curled it upwards. The hand that had been in his hair clenched into a fist, pulling him closer. Fela was shamelessly demanding her pleasure, wordlessly asking him for more.

Finally he moved his arm so she could move her hips, and immediately her sex was pressed up to his face and grinding against it. He chuckled, sending a vibration up her pussy that had her groan and grip his hair tighter. He moved his hand to rub her clit with his thumb, and she arched up, the soles of her feet pressed into his back. Alistair ignored the cramp in his jaw while she ground against him wantonly, chasing her release. His thumb worked in quick swipes across the sensitive nub, still slick with his saliva. She was whimpering now, pleading in broken words and clenching her thighs.

Alistair withdrew his tongue when she started to shake, licked a line back up to her clit and devoured it. Clever fingers moving inside her pussy to draw an orgasm from her that had her screaming his name. A little honey gushed out of her around his fingers with the overwhelming clenches and ripples he’d caused. He kept sucking on her clit with his lips, moving his tongue against it frantically to send her straight towards another peak.

This time she came wordlessly, but by no means quietly. It was somewhere between an growl and a scream. Not quite a grunt, but something feral all the same. He kept it up until she was gasping for air, and teased her a little longer still. Until she was shaking and spasming with pleasure, only then did he ease off. Gently kissing the swollen bud while he slipped his fingers out.

She went absolutely boneless, panting for breath. Alistair wiped his mouth with his forearm before leaving trails of kisses along the swell of her belly, she let out a contented sigh and eased her legs off his shoulders. He slowly kissed his way up to her breasts, up her neck, along her jaw, and to her mouth. Fela’s lips parted when he teased along them with his tongue, while he let a hand travel up her side to one of her breasts and gently kneaded the tender flesh. She let out a soft moan against his mouth. He didn’t rest his weight on top of her, instead, he supported himself on his knees and elbows.

He took his time kissing her, she radiated an aura of blissful relief. He could taste it on her lips, feel it coil around him and slip under his skin. He sat up to shrug off his coat, followed by his shirt. He leaned back down to kiss her again, needing to feel her skin against his. She took the cue, pressing herself up and against him as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

He devoured her, lost in the strange way she made him feel exactly what she felt. She was doing that thing again, for the _third_ time that day. And this time, Alistair decided to explore that particular side-effect of Fela’s connection to the Fade.

“Get on your knees love,” he whispered before pulling back to get rid of his very offensive trousers and smalls. Alistair felt a jolt of excitement that wasn’t his after he spoke the words.

_Hers?_

Fela did as she was told, pulling her legs up and turning to present her backside to him. He smiled at the glance she cast over her shoulder, dark eyes hidden beneath lush eyelashes. He felt another jolt of pleasure when he traced his fingers down over her spine and slapped her ass. He did it again, a moan escaping them both when it yielded the same results. She winked at him over her shoulder to urge him to continue, she was aware of what she was doing.

He smacked her ass again, harder this time, making her grip the headboard to keep from bumping into it face first. Alistair groaned, revelling in the throb it send through his cock. If spanking her felt like _this,_ fucking her must feel like…

Alistair had no words for what it felt like when he brushed the tip of his cock along her pussy, briefly pressing up against her clit. He was still looking for them when he pulled back to press against her entrance, and his mind went blank. Feeling his own and her pleasure simultaneously took up the entirety of his mind when he pushed inside her. It was like fucking her for the first time all over again, the act introduced him to so many new overwhelming pleasures it might as well have been a first, though he didn’t know of _what_ exactly. She was so _goddamn sensitive_ it made everything inside him flutter, he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw when he started moving inside her.

And then he was lost. He growled low in his throat, while he moved his hands to hold her hips in a grip tight enough to bruise. He felt it, as well as she did. And both were too caught up in each other to really care. They were only bruises. He fucked her slow, letting their joint pleasure overwhelm him and savouring every drop. Fela shouted something, so he slapped her ass again, and again, and again until she whimpered and wept. He wanted to feel all of it, take her pleasure and make it his. Make them one.

Fela slammed her fist into the headboard and cursed when he moved on to deep luxurious strokes that rocked her body forward. So when he spit on her asshole and slipped a finger into it, she cursed at the top of her lungs and held onto the headboard with both hands while Alistair fucked her from behind the way she liked. Hard, demanding, even a little punishing. The finger inside her ass moved too, gently probing to elicit pleasure of a whole different kind.

Alistair felt it all, everything he did to her he felt in some way or another. Not to mean he felt his own finger up his ass, or his own cock penetrating himself in a pussy he didn’t have, it wasn’t like that. It soared through his muscles, clouded his head, overloaded his senses with pleasure. He felt it in his cock, in his mind, everywhere. Like he was high on lyrium.

She seeped into his fibres, took over his sense of reality and altered it to open him up to everything she felt while he pounded into her. Her knuckles went white with her grip on the wood, she was mostly keeping herself in position now to keep from being thrown against the headboard with the force of his thrusts. Her pussy was clenching around him, like she was desperate to keep him inside of her. Oh, and how she screamed as he took her. How she begged for more, faster, harder. How she sobbed and cried out. The way she gyrated her hips to get him to plunge in deeper and take more of his finger up her ass. How unbelievably hot and wet she was.

Fela arched her back when he added a second finger, screaming out a litany of _‘yes,_ Alistair, oh _fuck, yes.’_ He was so caught up in the haze of pleasure he barely heard her. She kept bracing herself while he slammed into her furiously, watching her ass jiggle with each impact. He replaced his fingers with his thumb, allowing him leverage on her hips while his other hand made a fist in her hair to pull her head back.

He groaned as an electric tingle crept down his spine and straight into his groin, it made him bend at the waist to sink his teeth into her shoulder. It resulted in another wave of pleasure that made him pull her hair harder. That caused a ripple through his abdomen and he soon found himself in a spiral of blinding pleasure. His mouth moved to the side of her neck to leave teeth marks and suck bruises into the skin, it made him burn with such pleasure he was barely aware of anything else. His mind clouded with a delicious mist, his body taut, electrified. He felt Fela tense up and her pussy starting to clench down on him, increasing the friction. Hot, slick friction.

He felt a most delicious tension in his abdomen, sharper and more vivid than anything he’d felt before during sex. He felt it spread, everything coiled and flexed inside him. Holding while the pressure built, and built until something gave and burst. The scream that tore from her throat rang in his ears as he came with her, releasing hot bursts of seed and revelling in the satisfaction it brought her to feel him throbbing inside her.

He was panting as he held himself over her, resting his forehead on her shoulder. He gasped when an aftershock rippled through her pussy, squeezing his too sensitive cock.

“ _Maker,_ Fela,” he whispered against her skin.   
“I love you,” he continued and planted hot, breathy kisses along her shoulder. Repeating the words over and over again. She whined when he pulled out and flopped down on his side beside her. So he pulled her down into his arms.   
“Better?”   
“ _God_ , yes,” she replied.   
“Good,” he whispered. She curled up against his chest and let out a contented sigh.

“That was intense,” Alistair whispered, “when did you come up with that?”   
“Hmm? Oh, it was a heat of the moment thing,” she mumbled sleepily.   
“It was incredible,” he whispered.   
“The credit is yours love,” she chuckled.   
“Says the woman who used some kind of mojo to share her physical experience,” he replied.   
“And what an experience it was,” she replied coyly.   
“Fine, I’m awesome,” he quipped.   
“Absolutely,” she replied, “can I sleep now?” Alistair chuckled and kissed the top of her head.   
“Sure honey, come here.” He held her a little tighter as she closed her eyes, listening to her breathing even out and eventually slipping into the Fade after her.

* * *

The banquet was a pleasant enough occasion.

Fergus, as the host, kept a lot of attention off his sister. Not to mention the fact that he was a widowed Teyrn and there were many eyes upon him. On top of that, Fergus was tall and handsome, _and_ his training as a warrior kept him in fine shape. It took some of the pressure off Alistair too, some of the less tenacious ones among his… lady-suitors, had decided that if they weren’t getting anywhere with him, they might as well try Fergus. He’d need a new heir after all, certain duties had to be upheld when your noble house gets decimated by a murderous cockroach.

And, Fergus, well, Fergus was a flirt. He always had been and he probably wasn’t ever going to change.

“Your brother is quite the artist, querida,” came Zevran’s quiet voice from behind her. He’d been there since the moment she sat down, she had asked him to join her but he politely declined the invitation. Preferring to stay out of sight while he watched the crowd. His face was too well known, if he sat in plain sight, he wouldn’t be able to do it without people noticing his gaze. Best to observe them when they didn’t know you were watching.

“You mean the way he wraps them around his finger?” she replied quietly from behind her cup.   
“No, his mastery over using a knife and fork while he eats. What else?” Zevran replied playfully. Fela let out a quiet chuckle.   
“Fergus was always the more charming out of the two of us.”   
“Knowing you like I do, I find that hard to believe,” Zevran replied.   
“You may have known me for a while,” she whispered, “but you’ve only ever known me as an adult. Or something resembling one at the least.”   
“Are you saying you were an awkward teenager?” Zevran cooed from the shadows.   
“Not just awkward, and not just when I was a teenager,” she replied.   
“Oh, the swan has a past as an ugly duckling,” Zevran sighed, “I find that, quite romantic.”   
“If we are to have this conversation,” Fela answered crisply, “I’d really prefer not having it from behind a cup of apple draw.”

Zevran chuckled.   
“As you wish, these people are boring anyway.” He stepped out of the shadows and gracefully sat down in the empty chair next to Fela, not bothering being subtle about it. He waved for a servant and asked for a glass of wine, and turned to Fela. He smiled warmly and leaned back in his chair.

“Now, tell me about the things that make you say your brother is the more charming out of the two of you.” Fela gave a lopsided grin and shook her head as Zevran’s display. Like he was settling in for a good story. Zevran rested his elbows on the armrests of his chair, laced his fingers in front of him, and gave her an expectant look. Fine.

“When you look at me, what’s the first thing you notice?” Fela asked.   
“Why, your radiant beauty of course, like a rose in bloom,” Zevran replied with a wink.   
“Would you want to know more about me?” she continued.   
“If I didn’t already know you? Of course,” he replied.   
“And if you knew nothing of me, save for my family name, what would your expectations of me be?” she asked. Zevran frowned a little at that, swirling his wine in his cup when he took it from the servant before having a nip.

“That is not a question easily answered,” he replied slowly, “but, assuming that I know nothing more than your name, and by that deduce your standing, I would expect mostly the same behaviour as from the average noblewoman, but perhaps more refined. Do you have Asher following you everywhere?” Fela nodded.   
“You introduce yourself to me,” she continued, “how do you expect me to react?”   
“As an elven, Antivan assassin with valaslin on his face?” he asked and thought for a moment.

“I would expect you to be affronted, shocked at my audacity of speaking to you and looking you in the eyes. But you’d be reserved in it, you wouldn’t cause a scene because that’s unbecoming of one of your standing. Maybe you’ll take me for a servant, a foreigner that doesn’t understand your Ferelden ways. You would, very subtly, remind me of my place by some careful phrasing,” he replied.   
“Let’s say I manage that, would you back down?” she asked.   
“Graciously so,” he replied, “our first encounter might not be love at first sight, but you would remember me. And that’s all I really want at that time.”

“And the next time we meet, what are your expectations on my behaviour towards you?” she pressed.   
“Assuming we meet coincidently, with no obligation on my part,” he said thoughtfully, “I would expect you to be aloof, unwilling to acknowledge my presence. I would apologise for my earlier behaviour, most graciously of course, and ask your permission to ask you something.”   
“Permission reluctantly given.”   
“I bow, thank you, and compliment your grace in doing so,” he replied, “my question, is one of innocent nature. It is simply this, may I pet your dog?”

Fela burst out laughing.   
“Oh, that’s good! I formally introduce you to Asher, subtly asking for your name again, and tell him you’ve asked permission to pet him. He would totally let you too.”   
“And after that, you would remember me as the odd but strikingly handsome elf who asked to pet your dog, right?” Zevran inquires, “I would expect you to.”

“And that’s where things get complicated,” Fela said, “because I will remember that, but that is not all I would get out of those two meetings. I will probably find you charming, and the next time we meet I would be friendlier. But as you get to know me better, there is an uneasiness between us. You always seem to give away more of yourself than you intend, and I give nothing back. You’ll eventually lay yourself bare to me whether you are aware of it or not, and I will give _nothing_ back. You’ll feel our relationship is continually unbalanced, because I will always know more of you than you will of me. You know where you’re at on the see-saw, but you never know where I am, and you can’t feel my weight.” Zevran bit his lip in thought, what she described wasn’t how he knew her. But then again, this wasn’t about how _he_ knew her.

“Alright,” Zevran said, “given that I believe your current relationship with me is a lot more give and take than that, why would this difference occur?” She smiled.   
“Because you would approach me as a noblewoman. And you wouldn’t fight through a Blight with me. It would take you a long time to get to know me as I am. And most people have given up by then, those that haven’t, are often unsettled by what they find.”   
“What do they find?” he asked.   
“The baggage I carry,” she replied, “past struggles I’ve fought, and the marks they left.”

Zevran knew that to mean that she meant people would realise her melancholy and see the scars of the trauma she had sustained. She considered many of those flaws, he knew. Though she’d never said it.

Fela was not the only one with a knack for reading people. Zevran may not be able to do the things that she did, but he knew enough to place himself in her shoes and imagine her response to her surroundings. He knew there was a loneliness in it, indeed, he had often been on the other side of the see-saw Fela described. He knew that subtle look of uncertainty in others, where they knew where they were on the see-saw but couldn’t see or feel him. At times, both parties would find themselves in the same unknowing predicament. Such were the demands of life as a Crow. Relationships, be they friendly or romantic, were dangerous. So Zevran consciously kept parts of himself hidden, like she and so many others did. And people always felt it, to some degree.

When the feeling was mutual, well, it was only fair, wasn’t it? But with Fela, there was no mutual. She would always see, no matter how hard you tried to keep yourself hidden, there was no choice in that. Some might see that as a position of power, which it was most of the time, but that inevitably meant the vulnerability of theirs. Not many could accept that.

For Zevran, it was something he had consciously learned and chosen. For Fela… it had been something that she had to figure out for herself along the way, it wasn’t taught. That meant mistakes had been made, there had been fuck-ups, how long had it taken her to realise she was different? How long before she learned to keep that part hidden? How many people had she crushed, be it accidentally, or intentionally? And the nobles he was looking at, had formed her training yard.

Magnus said he had seen her do her thing to people when she was a child and that it creeped them out. Meaning Fela probably called people on feelings they were hiding when they contradicted their words or actions. People generally didn’t like that, it made them feel exposed. Then she got older, and she must have realised she was reading things off of people they were trying to hide or even denying to themselves. Things she shouldn’t have been able to see because others didn’t. So she learned to keep it to herself.

But children, and teenage girls in particular, can be cruel. She must have retaliated. She must have known how to use what she could see to hurt.

The people he had been looking at, the Ferelden nobility, a general cesspit of gossip, were the people who watched and judged as she stumbled through something she didn’t understand. That put a whole lot of hushed whispers in a new perspective. And it explained why the older nobles got along with her more easily than those who had been kids at the same time as she was. It wasn’t difficult to imagine her as being isolated because the other kids didn’t know what to make of her.

And when we don’t understand something, well, we don’t usually cope well. More so when you also feel afraid and vulnerable. It wasn’t a far leap to active aggression.

“You’re feeling sorry for me,” Fela observed with a disdainful look. Zevran looked up at her defiantly.   
“I am drawing certain conclusions that break my heart, querida, it is not the same as feeling sorry for you.”   
“Yeah, what might those be?” she asked with a pointed look. Zevran frowned at her, they were in public, she should know not to ask that question and expect an easy and honest answer.   
“Isolation,” he said, fully expecting her to understand that what he meant was; ‘I realised you’ve felt hated and shunned as a child, and that many of these people still bring that out in you.’ She stared at him for a moment, probably translating that single word into what he meant to say, and finally gave a quiet sigh.

“Do you remember when I explained some things about my nightmares?” she asked and Zevran nodded.   
“Do you remember what I asked of you?” she continued.   
“I do, querida,” he said with a soft smile.   
“Things are what they are Zev,” she said quietly, “as am I.” 

“I think your husband is about to get molested,” Zevran said lightly and tilted his head towards Alistair, who was getting pulled into a hallway by two noblewomen.   
“Poor guy,” she said and sipped from her apple draw before setting it down.

“Would you escort me across this crowd?” she asked graciously.   
“Naturally, your Grace,” Zevran replied smoothly, stood and offered his arm. Fela grinned at him when she took it and they both slipped into the background. It was not easy to go unnoticed these days, but it could be done. Or at least, they moved along the wall with Zevran between Fela and the rest of the crowd. He didn’t fully obscure her, but if people weren’t looking for her she could probably stay unnoticed. As the evening had progressed, many of the guests had gotten progressively drunk, and that certainly helped.

“-highly unnecessary,” came Alistair’s voice from somewhere further down the hallway. Fela sighed and followed the sound of the voices towards a storeroom.   
“Classy,” she muttered sarcastically as she heard a hushed female voice reply. She opened the door to the storeroom without preamble, looked at the people inside and then pointedly the room itself.

“Considering a career-change, are we?” she asked the two women who had jumped at her sudden intrusion.   
“Y-your Grace,” one stammered, “w- we were just looking for the gardens.”   
“And when you opened the door to a storeroom you thought it might lead you there so you went inside and closed the door?”   
“She means the kitchen, your Grace,” the other said hastily, sounding a bit more certain of her lie, “we thought we saw a servant go in here and thought that if we followed-” Fela cut her off with a sharp gesture.   
“You’re insulting my intelligence.”   
“Your Grace?” the girl asked with a bat of her eyelashes. Fela guessed that might work on some men.   
“It’s distasteful, Lady Loraine,” Fela replied in icy tones, “there are more graceful ways.”

Lady Loraine looked at her companion uncertainly before looking back at the Warden Queen.   
“More graceful ways for what, your Grace?” she asked. Fela stared her down for a moment, was the girl just stubborn or was she stupid? The answer was, that she didn’t think she did anything wrong, and that was even worse.

“If you were a courtesan,” Fela said slowly, “you would have been working in a nice boudoir where people come to you. On a clean mattress with fresh sheets, sipping on expensive wine in Orlesian lingerie. Had you been a working girl from around the nicer parts of the city, you would have worked in a more modest establishment but with reasonably clean beds and reasonably clean clientele. Or one from around the Market District, where there is more than enough clientele but you’d depend on inns unless you are fond of back-alleys. If you had been a dock-whore, you would have offered him a three-way in a rundown brothel with filthy mattresses on sticky floors littered with vermin under a leaky roof. But you still wouldn’t take him to a storeroom.”

Fela glowered at the two women in front of her. While Alistair was fully capable of handling himself, every now and then Fela felt the urge to show she was fully aware of the courting directed at her husband and did not approve of it. She could do nothing at all and rest assured that everything would be fine, but that might be mistaken for ignorance. And she had her pride. So, on occasion, she chewed a couple of Alistair’s admirers out. This time, the lucky ones had gotten themselves busted in a storeroom. All were fully dressed, nothing had happened, Alistair would never let it come to that, but the intent was painfully clear. Both noblewomen had gone ashen the moment they saw their Queen standing in the doorway, but by now they looked like they had turned to stone.

“Run along now,” Fela said airily and moved out of the doorway, “there are actual bachelors here to throw yourselves at and you’ve wasted enough time. You’re not getting any younger, are you?”

The two noblewomen fled from the storeroom, less than gracefully, and Alistair let out a tired sigh.

“Ouch,” Zevran said with a smirk, “no wonder the women around here don’t like you.”   
“No wonder she doesn’t like _them_ ,” Alistair corrected and ran a hand through his hair.   
“What was it this time?” Fela asked.   
“Something about a portrait of a shared relative of yours? It was supposed to have an uncanny resemblance,” Alistair replied.   
“I don’t share relatives with either of those girls,” Fela said, “thankfully.”

“Yeah, when we started heading in the opposite direction of the trophy room I started to suspect so,” he replied, “I should know better than let myself be left alone with noblewomen by now.” Fela made a face that said she didn’t disagree, but didn’t hold it against him.   
“Such is the way of court when a handsome man is King,” Zevran sighed, “especially one with a reputation for being kind.”   
“Yeah, well, the ‘stern King thing’ seems to spurn them on,” Alistair shrugged, “I’ve considered being an asshole but I don’t think I can get away with that yet.”   
“The ‘stern King thing’ spurns them on _because_ of your reputation as a kind man,” Zevran replied.   
“I know, I know,” Alistair answered in an annoyed tone, “can we just get back to the food?”

The reprieve was short-lived, after moving back to their private seating, Eamon came to say hello. After properly greeting them, he sat down in a chair and looked straight at Fela.

“Anything I can help you with, Eamon?” she asked expectantly.   
“I’ve been approached by two men from the Anderfells,” he said slowly, “they had some questions about you.”   
“Grey Wardens?” Fela asked with an arched eyebrow.   
“They didn’t say,” Eamon replied, “but the nature of their questions suggests that they are.”   
“What did they want to know?” Alistair asked darkly.   
“They asked about your behaviour in the days before the battle of Denerim,” Eamon replied. That wasn’t new.

“Any behaviour in particular they were curious about?” Fela asked. Eamon frowned.   
“That’s just it. They were so vague in their questions I have no idea what information they were after or why.” Fela leaned back in her chair and thought for a moment.   
“What to make of that,” she wondered out loud.

“Most likely, it’s just a probe to see how you’ll react,” Zevran said leisurely, “I wouldn’t worry about it.”   
“Are they still here?” Alistair asked and looked at Eamon.   
“I am uncertain. They presented themselves as guests of Bann Esmerelle of the city of Amaranthine,” Eamon replied.   
“Why am I not surprised,” Alistair replied with a sour look in the dour woman’s direction. She had been vying for the position as Arlessa and was more than a little affronted when the Arling was granted to the Grey Wardens instead. She’d been vocal in her disapproval of this decision, especially since the Grey Wardens couldn’t man Vigil’s Keep yet.

Grey Wardens from the Anderfells as guests of Bann Esmerelle. The few letters and replies she had gotten from Weisshaupt, suggested the Grey Wardens at headquarters didn’t like her very much. And she knew for a fact Bann Esmerelle hated her guts for being a Cousland and now the Arlessa of Amaranthine. Fela suspected she was their common enemy. It didn’t bode well that the Grey Wardens from the Anderfells were getting well acquainted with the spiteful Bann, but not her and Alistair.

She surged out through the Taint, if they were still in Highever Castle, she should be able to sense them easily. She picked up on Alistair first because he was sitting next to her, but sure enough, she picked up on two more Tainted beings, and they weren’t darkspawn. 

Fela gave Alistair the barest hint of a nod, meant to tell him there were indeed two other Grey Wardens present. Alistair sighed.   
“Keep an eye on her, and see if they have been approaching anyone else, discretely.”   
“I think Bann Esmerelle wants to play a game, dear husband,” Fela said venomously.   
“Easy there tiger,” Alistair replied, “it could be nothing.”   
“ _She_ could be nothing if she keeps up that spiteful, old, _hagraven-attitude,_ I should crush her under my heel like the little cockroach she is,” Fela growled in reply.

Eamon blinked a few times at the display, he knew Fela to be much more subtle in her dislike of some individuals. That she was hissing like an angry cat now, was out of character in his eyes. Alistair and Zevran knew this to be quite the opposite, but Eamon didn’t know Fela as well as they did.

“Your Grace,” he said and hesitated, “Fela, are you alright?”   
“Yes, of course,” she replied, then she frowned, “I’m fine Eamon, really.” Eamon studied her for a moment, looked at Alistair, and nodded.   
“I’m glad to hear it, your Grace. I will leave you to enjoy your evening.” With that he stood, bowed, and left.

“He’s figured it out,” Fela said flatly when Eamon was out of earshot.   
“He figured it out a few weeks back,” Alistair replied after glancing at Fela’s hand, which rested on her stomach, “he’s just afraid to insult you if he asks.”   
“He wasn’t certain before,” she answered.   
“How do you know?” Alistair asked. Fela arched an eyebrow at him, with a look that said, _you know how._

“He’s been… paternal, towards me,” she said, “looking after my comforts and such.” She glanced over the crowd to see Eamon talking to Teagan and Arl Bryland. She wouldn’t be surprised if the man was genuinely concerned for her well-being, with Bann Esmerelle bringing curious men from the Anderfells.   
“Maybe we should just tell him,” Alistair opted.   
“Yeah,” she replied lazily, “and he’d be heartbroken if he had to hear it through the grapevine, it’s getting difficult to hide.” That earned her surprised looks from Alistair and Zevran.

“He’s starting to grow on me,” she clarified with a shrug.   
“So, do we tell him after the banquet or do you want to wait until tomorrow?” Alistair asked.   
“We’ll see,” she replied, “depends on how long people stick around.”

“Uncle Magnus is here!” a booming voice rolled through the hall when the giant Bann of the Stormcoast stepped in.

Fela leapt out of her chair to dart towards the large man, beating her brother to him and leaping into his outstretched arms for a hug. Asher followed in her wake, bumping into a chair and sending it clattering across the stone in his enthusiasm, barking happily. Magnus roared a laugh as he spun Fela around, lifting her off the ground entirely.

“That wasn’t very Queenly,” the giant said playfully when he set her down.   
“That wasn’t very Bannly,” she replied obstinately. By then Fergus had caught up, and exchanged a manly hug with his uncle, each slapping the other on the back affectionately.   
“I missed you kids,” Magnus said with a warm smile.

Alistair and Zevran watched from their chairs as Fela and Fergus welcomed their uncle.   
“She really looks tiny between the two of them,” Zevran observed.   
“Even _I_ look tiny standing between those two,” Alistair replied.   
“You think it’s a family-thing? How tall they all are?” Zevran asked.   
“Could be,” Alistair replied, “it’s easy to forget when she’s standing next to me, or between her brother and her uncle, but she is taller than average too.”   
“Could just be nobles grow taller because they get better food,” Zevran shrugged.   
“You think I was served steak and wine in the Chantry?” Alistair asked.   
“You got food from Eamon’s kitchens before that, couldn’t have been bad food,” Zevran replied.   
“I didn’t have my growth spurt until I was fifteen, I had been in the Chantry for a while by then,” Alistair countered.   
“Growth spurt?” Zevran asked.   
“Yeah, in your teens when you suddenly grow a lot in a short period of time,” he explained, “don’t elves have that?”   
“We do, but we don’t call it a growth spurt,” he replied, “it sounds crude.”   
“What would you call it?”   
“Blossoming if it’s a girl, quickening for a boy, but generally we just call it growing up,” Zevran replied coyly. Alistair rolled his eyes.   
“Smart ass.”

After the banquet, the party had been moved to Fergus’ private sitting room.

Everyone, excepting Fela and Zevran, was well into their cups by then. So Fela sat back on a wide sofa, oversized dog in her lap, while Zevran chattered away at her in Antivan. He’d switched to his native tongue to be able to speak more freely. Besides Fergus, who was fluent in the language, Fela was the only one who could keep up with the speed of his speech and the slang he often used. Meaning they could talk more privately.

Normally, Fela would have considered this rude to the other people present. But at the moment she was more than happy to complain about backpain, her thimble sized bladder, and the inexplicable urge to clean stuff. Zevran was quite amused by that last one. Plus, she enjoyed listening to him speak Antivan, and Zevran was happy to chatter on and on with little input on her part.

Meanwhile Alistair was playing Diamondback with Magnus, Fergus, Teagan, and Eamon. Eamon had needed some convincing from Alistair and Teagan, but eventually agreed to play a few rounds. When it was Alistair’s turn to deal, he put the cards aside for a moment.

“Cards don’t deal themselves you know,” Magnus rumbled when he noticed Alistair wasn’t going to.   
“Yeah, hang on for a moment,” Alistair replied, “Fela and I have something to tell you.”

“I knew it, I _knew_ it!” Magnus roared as he stood, knocking his chair over.   
“Sheez, take it easy man! You knew what?” Teagan asked, pushing back from the table a bit.   
_“You!”_ he roared, slammed one hand down on the table and pointed the other at Fela, “you’re heavier.” Fela rolled her eyes.   
“Yeah, thanks, uncle.”   
“She punched me in the stomach when I said that,” Fergus mumbled with a slight pout.   
“He’s all the way over there,” she replied with a shrug and looked at Magnus, Teagan, and Eamon in turn.

“I’m pregnant,” she finally said, “you may now go nuts.” 

Magnus and Teagan both burst out in happy cheers of congratulations. Eamon smiled broadly and quickly stood to embrace Alistair. Magnus, meanwhile, made his way over to Fela to lift her off the sofa. One arm under her knees and the other around her back, he spun her around again. He set her down more gently this time.

“How long?” he asked.   
“About four months,” she replied, slapping his hand away when he reached for her stomach, _“piss off.”_   
“Yeah, uh, no touching uncle,” Fergus said lamely, “she doesn’t respond well to it.”

By now Fela found herself in a bearhug from Teagan while Asher bounded happily around them. The pregnancy was no news to the dog, but the humans were very happy and he liked to go along with it. Eamon congratulated Fela by giving her a heartfelt handshake.

“Congratulations, my dear,” he said warmly, “a child is a blessing like no other.” Fela gently squeezed his hand, a gesture of sympathy. Eamon’s son Connor had been taken to the Circle Tower soon after the Blight ended. Though the man always kept a straight face in public, it was eating at him. He was proud of his son, loved him no less for being a mage, but the dangers couldn’t be ignored. Redcliffe had experienced that first hand.

“Thank you, Eamon,” she answered warmly, “go easy on the heir-talk,” she added with a wink. Eamon chuckled at that.   
“All in due time,” he replied.

Fela already knew they weren’t going to agree on when ‘due time’ was, but for now it didn’t matter. He received the news well so far, in Fela’s opinion. She’d half-worried he’d immediately start talking about betrothals. But he mostly just seemed happy for them. She felt good about telling them, glad that they were happy.

And just like that she went all warm and fuzzy inside again, and, of course, started to cry. So Alistair pulled her into his lap and explained they still wanted to wait for a little while before officially announcing it to the court while Asher comforted his mistress.

Meaning he put his head in her lap and gave her puppy eyes. But to his credit, it was pretty effective. Fela put both hands around the hound’s massive head to stroke his ears with both her thumbs.

Thankfully, there weren’t many questions. And those that were asked were mostly practical in nature. Did she want to get a wet nurse, would she be needing more than one healer, and, _most_ importantly, did she want anything in particular stocked in the pantry? Fela appreciated that one the most. No nonsense like, did she hope for a boy or a girl, or if they had started thinking about names yet.

Fela was a practical woman, she was deliriously happy to be having a baby of course, but that didn’t mean she got all giddy and bouncy and gushed over tiny socks. Though she did find tiny socks adorable nowadays but that wasn’t the point.

She expressed her happiness in different, less obvious ways.

* * *

For the first time in nearly a year, Fela found she couldn’t sleep.

She felt anxious, hyper-alert. It was to be expected. The castle was quiet and dark, as it had been two years prior. Asleep. Vulnerable. A nap during daytime when there are plenty of people bustling about to prepare for a banquet was _very_ different from actually spending a night in her old bed. Alistair had fallen asleep by now, lying on his side and holding her snug against his chest. And Fela was busy convincing herself that no, the castle wouldn’t be attacked, no, Alistair wouldn’t die from an arrow in the chest, and yes, she was perfectly safe. But some part of her mind simply refused to agree and go to sleep. That part strained to listen for any movement or voices, every time the wind howled outside, it perked up to check for danger. And when it found none, it was unconvinced.

_This is ridiculous,_ Fela thought to herself, _a lifetime of being perfectly safe in my chambers and all I remember is waking up to shouting and Asher barking before Dairen fell back with an arrow sticking out of his chest. The memories of one night are overriding those of a lifetime. Idiot. You should know better._

It was no use. Sleep wouldn’t come and she resigned herself to an involuntary watch. If she wasn’t going to sleep, she might as well stop trying. So she gently disentangled herself, and slipped into some clothes. Wide pants, a tank top, and the luscious red robe she had worn earlier that day. She kissed Alistair on his cheek, and whispered for Asher to come along with her.

She stalked the same halls and corridors she had fought through two years ago, proving to herself that they were empty and there were no enemies sneaking in to kill them in their beds. The loose robe made it easier to blend into the shadows, though there was no reason to stick to them. But she found some comfort in being hidden. Always had.

Asher trudged behind her faithfully, the clicking noise of his nails on the stone a small comfort in the quiet of night. She methodically checked every hall, every room, and every corridor. After that she went out onto the castle walls, from there she could survey both the courtyard and the surrounding castle grounds. She came across a fair number of guards during her sweep, more than there had been before the attack on Highever. She approved of that. Though it was highly unlikely someone would try to sack Highever with half of Ferelden’s nobility present. Plus the guards and soldiers each had brought, plus the even greater number of servants.

She ended up identifying herself a few times, but most of the time she simply slipped by the guards she encountered. Unlike the guards employed at Highever before, these were unaccustomed to Fela stalking the halls at night. And stopping to identify herself and state her purpose at every corner was too much of a hassle while sneaking through the castle. Because, truth be told, she liked sneaking.

Alone in the dark, hidden by familiar shadows, she felt at ease. Her near frantic sweep turned into a prowl, studying the guard’s activity. It allowed her to let go of her fear for a while, to feel in control by knowing who was where, when, and why. She’d done it on countless nights when she was younger, because it soothed her. In the dark, she was the predator, never prey. The reminder helped soothe her thoughts and eased her nerves.

She went back to bed eventually. Though it was more out of a need for warmth and comfort than a need to sleep.


	77. The Pep Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more about Fela's background. Alistair, Fergus, and she get up to mischief.

“So I hear we have a ghost haunting the castle at night,” Fergus said innocently as he worked on slicing his eggs and bacon to strips.

“Funny,” Fela said blandly.   
“It’s a curious one though, no rattling of chains, no distant wailing of the dead,” he continued, “but it’s been spotted all over.”   
“Uh-huh,” Fela mumbled with disinterest while she spread butter and marmalade on a slice of bread.   
“Apparently it’s a little fat too,” Fergus quipped, promptly receiving a slice of bread with butter and marmalade on his forehead. Without another word, she reached for a new slice of bread and repeated the progress of spreading butter and marmalade on it. Meanwhile Alistair watched the exchange with great interest, Fela and Fergus bickered endlessly. Mostly because Fergus baited her and she couldn’t resist biting.

“Well,” Fergus said as he peeled the sandwich off his forehead, “that’s a new tactic.”   
“Piss off,” she growled in between bites.   
“Seriously though,” he continued, “did you sleep at all?”   
“Not really,” she replied in a dodgy tone. Fergus nodded in understanding.   
“I was hoping you were just raiding the pantry.”   
“Oh, I was, at some point, and again after that,” she answered soothingly.   
“But?”   
“But I may have wandered around a lot too,” she admitted. Fergus sighed.   
“Was it nightmares?”   
“No,” she answered, “I never fell asleep to have them.”   
“So you were patrolling all night, keeping watch,” Fergus concluded.   
“Yeah,” she said, dragging out the word. He didn’t need to ask her why, it was obvious.   
“Aren’t you tired?” he asked.   
“Of course I am,” she replied, “but it’s hardly the first night I’ve gone without sleep.” He nodded, remembering.

When she was eleven years old, after the incident with Fjodor, she slept so little that she’d gone a little delirious at times. Seeing things that weren’t there, being wildly disorientated, rambling on and on in barely formed sentences. Sleep deprivation mixed with severe emotional trauma in a child would eventually do that. Fergus remembered the first time it happened.

It had been during dinner, she had been convinced there were mice on the table and had started throwing things around in an effort to find the little creatures until they stopped her forcibly. Meaning their father had taken her into a bear hug and lifted her off the floor. He had honestly believed his little sister had gone mad then. That her mind had snapped and that she had been lost to them.

He had been quietly weeping in his rooms later that evening when their mother came to explain what had happened. That the brain needed sleep to make sense of the world, and if it didn’t get it, it would start to make mistakes. And that could make a person see things that weren’t there and lose control over their impulses a bit, like his little sister had done during dinner.

Fela had been given a sleeping draught after that, if she couldn’t fall asleep naturally they would have to force it. There was a price to be paid, however, because whenever she _did_ sleep, she suffered through terrible nightmares without being able to wake up.

After the first night on the sleeping draught she had been lethargic, she barely responded when spoken to, wouldn’t eat or drink unless encouraged to do so. So they had switched to smaller doses to help her sleep for only a few hours at a time but at a more regular interval. It was a solution born out of necessity. Leaving her awake would damage her more than helping her sleep through potions, but it was by no means the answer to the problem. 

“You know nobody is going to attack Highever, right?” Fergus asked gently.   
“I do, but the problem persists,” she said with a shrug, “I spent a long time trying to convince myself it was fine. It didn’t work, so I did something to make me feel better.”   
“Would it help if you slept someplace else?” he asked, “a different room, or wing, or even an inn?”   
“Probably,” she replied, “but I don’t feel like running away from my own rooms. I had a nap in there yesterday, it can be done.”   
“Are you sure?” he asked, “I could easily have other rooms prepared for you.”   
“It’s fine,” she said with a thankful smile, “I’ll let you know if I change my mind, but for now I want to stay in my own rooms.”   
“Alright then, if you’re certain…” he replied.   
_“It’s fine,_ I’ve got Alistair and Asher,” she said with a smile, “couldn’t be safer.”   
“Just don’t stay awake for nearly a week and go nuts, ok?” he asked, “look after yourself.”

Fergus was appropriately protective, Alistair observed. How he knew she’d been prowling the castle all night, Alistair wasn’t sure. He guessed the guards must have said something about their liege Lord’s sister wandering around at odd hours. He guessed it wasn’t the kind of thing that needed to be reported, so Fergus must have asked. Like Alistair did.

She’d admitted she didn’t sleep at all reluctantly, stating that she would catch up on sleep later. If she was bothered by not being able to sleep, she didn’t complain about it. To her is wasn’t all that uncommon to go a night without sleep. Though it had been a long time since she’d had this much trouble. Since Urthemiel found her in the Fade after she killed him.

Even after he’d been born, she had been sleeping rather well. Even though he could no longer forcibly hold her nightmares at bay. But they had gotten fewer, and less intense. She’d jerk awake with her heart pounding in her chest and gasp for air every now and then, but that was about it. She was _much_ better these days than she had been during the Blight.

Without the looming threat of the Blight and the risks that came with being a fugitive, without that absurd responsibility of having to gather an army of unlikely allies and leading it against the Archdemon they needed to kill. And the frequency of darkspawn nightmares had been decreasing. Not just because the Archdemon was now dead but also because she’d been a Grey Warden for a while. Not to mention, she had a very happy life at the moment.

“So,” Fela said, announcing they were now switching topics, “what do we have scheduled for today?”   
“Since we’re here,” Alistair spoke up, “I’d like to see about making some arrangements for Duncan’s memorial.”   
“Duncan was the Commander of the Grey before I picked up the mantle, he’s the man that got me out of Highever,” Fela explained when Fergus gave Alistair a questioning look.   
“Ah,” Fergus nodded, “I remember him.”   
“He died at Ostagar,” Alistair supplemented, “fighting beside Cailan. He grew up in Orlais and the Free Marches, before becoming a Grey Warden, but he was born here.”

“We went back to Ostagar,” Fela said quietly, “but we never found his body. Maybe Riordan found him before we did, Duncan’s shield made it to the Grey Warden cache in Denerim, where Riordan was arrested by Loghain. But we don’t know for sure. If he recognised the shield when Alistair walked into the Landsmeet with it, he didn’t show it.” She shrugged, and returned to the egg she had been relieving of its shell.

“Anyway, an empty grave just feels like a disappointment,” Fela continued as she pealed the eggshell away, “so maybe something like a memorial, closer to the people.” Alistair nodded.   
“He’d like that, I think. Even better if we can use something stolen, stealing is what got him conscripted into the Grey Wardens.” Fela chuckled.   
“What, really?”   
“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh, “but it got all messed up and he was send to the executioner’s block. Commander Genevieve conscripted him after Duncan refused her initial offer.”   
“Well, now I feel like an arse for laughing,” Fela said wryly, waving her half pealed egg in one hand.   
“Nah, it’s fine love,” Alistair said soothingly, “besides, how could you have known?”

“There is an exquisite irony to it though,” Fergus said thoughtfully, “making a memorial out of something stolen because it’s what got him conscripted into the Grey Wardens. A little inside joke between you and him. Grey Wardens are supposed to have a dark sense of humour right? It’s perfect.” 

“I’m game,” Fela said brightly, “what are we going to steal?”

* * *

Alistair, was a terrible pickpocket.

Fela had him practice on a dummy with an impossible number of bells on it. An unfair number, according to Alistair. The thing seemed to jingle if he even just _looked_ at it. So, they had decided on another job for him.

There would be a small gathering that evening with the people that had come to their aid during the Blight. During that evening, they would pick as many pockets as they reasonably could. They would use the loot to whatever purpose they came up with. Maybe they would melt down the metal and use it in the memorial itself, maybe they would use it to pay for materials. They would figure it out once they had their loot laid out before them.

It was Alistair’s job to draw attention to himself. That shouldn’t be hard, he was the King, and a veteran of the battle with the Archdemon. Fela and Fergus would take advantage. Well, Fergus would take advantage. He didn’t have much more success on the dummy than Alistair did. Together they made one moderately successful pickpocket. And a lot of that success came from the fact that nobody would expect the Theirn of Highever to pick their pocket. He was already loaded, like everyone else in the room.

Meanwhile Fela worked alone. As much as you can call it ‘alone’ when you have a massive Mabari war hound trudging after you. Though he behaved well and didn’t draw any attention to himself in an effort to help. He’d done that before, it ended with him drenched in wine and piss drunk. Meaning Fela had ended up covered in wine, because Asher was a cuddly drunk. Which, of course, Fergus had found hysterically funny at the time.

Fela’s quarry was an older woman, slightly drunk, and rich enough to flaunt an outrageous amount of jewellery. Had she walked around like that in the poorer parts of Denerim, she might as well have been wearing a sign that said ‘free stuff.’ She’d be robbed _twice_ within five seconds.

First, she watched the plump woman. Who did she talk to, how did she behave, did she make any physical contact. Especially that last one. People are much less likely to notice your hand slipping into their pocket if you put your hand on their shoulder or arm first. Their attention would be drawn to that touch, making it easier for the other one to slip by them.

People like Fela, who have a general dislike for other people touching them, were much more difficult to steal from. A body coming too close would provoke a reaction and cause the target to step away or go on high alert. And to pick someone’s pocket, you needed to get in close and you wanted your target at ease.

This particular target, was a hugger. And a heavily perfumed one too. She didn't need to see the little woman to follow her, she just had to follow her nose.

Slipping past people or coming up behind them was out of the question for Fela. She was the Queen, there were eyes on her. But, she didn’t need to be hidden to steal, neither did anyone expect her to. However, she didn’t expect this woman to hug a Queen, not in her current state of not-quite-drunk. So, Fela made sure there was always more wine in her target’s vicinity. And waited patiently.

No sense in stealing from everyone who came within reach, best to just pick one or two good targets and stick with those. If eight people suddenly noticed their stuff gone missing, the game would be over. If one person suddenly found they lost something, well, they probably lost it on their own then, didn’t they? Surely there were no thieves among these fine, _rich,_ upstanding nobles, that would be absurd.

Fela spotted her target moving to the gardens, and followed at a relaxed pace, just minding her own business. She went left where her target went right, but kept her in her line of sight. She observed other nobles as well, making a point of not singling her target out. Everybody studied one another here. Whether it was to determine how to get close to you and gain from that, or to gauge the threat you could pose. Personal gain, material gain, political gain, there were endless reasons for nobles to be watching each other. So anyone who noticed Fela studying the crowd would be seeing exactly what they expected of their Queen.

Women who don’t watch their backs don’t have a long reign. Fela, planned on having a _very_ long reign, Taint or no.

Lady Penelope, this evening’s target, was now speaking to a couple. And Fela covertly moved a little closer to be able to pick up on the conversation.

“Have you _seen_ Arlessa Isolde’s dress?” came a slightly slurred voice, “the embroidery is simply _exquisite._ ”   
“I hear the skirts and bodice are made of plush fustian velvet,” replied another, “it must have cost a fortune!” A third voice, male, let out a chuckle.   
“Is she expecting a battle?”   
“Whatever do you mean Ser Jonathan?” asked the first, followed by a hick-up.   
“Plush fustian velvet is used to craft armor,” the man explained, “it feels like cloth but it’s tougher than bronto skin.”

“ _Must_ you make such a distasteful comparison when discussing the Arlessa’s garments?” asked the more sober female voice.   
“Bronto skin is actually widely used in light armor,” the male voice replied, “it’s not uncommon to compare the toughness of material to bronto skin.”   
“Careful now Ser,” said the drunk one in a poorly hushed whisper, “people might think you are calling the Arlessa a bronto.” The other woman let out a laugh.   
“Oh, we wouldn’t want to call her _that._ ”

_Not to her face anyway._

“I’ve heard her son has been taken to the Circle of Magi,” added the drunk one, “a _mage,_ of all things. He always seemed like such a fine young man.”   
“Doesn’t that leave Arl Eamon without an heir?” asked the other woman.   
“It does,” replied the first slyly, “and Arlessa Isolde is determined to have another child. At _her_ age.” The last bit was added with a scathing chuckle.   
“It is more likely the position will fall to his brother, Bann Teagan of Rainesfere,” added the male voice.   
“And he _isn’t_ married,” the drunken voice said in suggestive tones.   
“ _Penelope_ ,” chided the other woman in a tone that suggested a blush.   
“Just an _observation,_ dear,” came the slurred reply, “nothing more.”

Fela sighed, feigning great interest in the new snapdragon blossoms. Lady Penelope wasn’t what Fela would call a ‘nice’ lady. While Fela had her own reservations when it came to Isolde, she took no pleasure in the thought that Isolde lost her son to the Chantry. Because as things stood, that was exactly what it was.

Connor no longer had any titles and no rights to any of his heritage. Because he was a mage. He could be trained to control his power, as well as learn to defend himself against demons in the Fade. But still, the fact that he had magic meant that he lost everything. He wasn’t allowed contact with his family, lest any communication might make the idea of trying to escape more appealing. Isolde and Eamon lost their son, the boy was a prisoner in Kinloch Hold now. As if he were a criminal. He needed to learn how to control his power, the possession of the desire demon and near destruction of Redcliffe made that painfully obvious. But taking the boy from his family and severing every connection he had to his old life seemed more like a punishment than a safety measure.

Nevertheless, she had picked up a few titbits that could help her keep Lady Penelope talking while Fela relieved her of a diamond necklace. And maybe a ring or two, depending on how aware the spiteful nug still was. She sounded pretty sauced, and she certainly wasn’t taking care to keep her voice down while she gossiped. People who were in control of their faculties usually had the sense to at least whisper when talking shit about their higher ranked peers.

Fela casually ran a hand along the soft velvety blossoms while she resumed her stroll through the gardens. Asher followed with his nose stuck to the ground, smelling something mighty interesting that people couldn’t pick up on. He followed his mistress to the patch of rose bushes in the back of the garden, where she took her time admiring the lush, velvety flowers.

While she usually considered roses a romantic cliché she still found them beautiful. And they reminded her of the rose Alistair had given her during the Blight. She reached out to one of the deep red blooms, stroking one of the petals with a thumb, gently, so as not to bruise the delicate texture. She didn’t pick it, leaving it on the bush to continue to grow.

Fela ‘accidentally’ bumped into Lady Penelope while rounding a corner, sending the shorter woman stumbling and cursing. Until she saw who she had bumped into.

“Your Highness,” Lady Penelope gasped, “m-my apologies.”   
“Lady, Penelope, is it not?” Fela asked.   
“Yes, Your Grace,” she replied and curtsied, “I apologise for being so clumsy.”   
“It’s quite alright,” Fela replied, “you didn’t see me coming. No harm done.”   
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Lady Penelope sighed with relief and curtsied again, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Fela smiled and shook her head.   
“No, you didn’t hurt me. But what about you? You lost your balance there for a moment.”   
“Oh, that’s just my own clumsiness Your Grace,” Lady Penelope replied quickly, “I am quite sturdy, I assure you.”

Fela smiled.

“I was just taking a walk through the gardens, why don’t you join me?”   
“I’d be honoured, Your Grace,” Lady Penelope replied and fell into step beside Fela when she motioned for her to follow.   
“Are you enjoying the soiree?” Fela asked, striking up a new conversation as they walked.

Lady Penelope was on her toes at the moment, the shock of bumping into, and cursing at, the Queen made her careful and alert. No where near as relaxed and complacent as she wanted her if she was to rob the little fatty of her diamond necklace. Though the eagerness to please did work in Fela’s favour.

“Oh, it’s just _marvellous,_ Your Grace,” Lady Penelope replied enthusiastically, “the music, the wine, the _people,_ and the intimacy of it. We all love a great feast but smaller, more _exclusive_ , gatherings like these are the _real_ parties.” Fela chuckled.   
“Indeed they are.” Lady Penelope straightened a little at that, as if Fela agreeing with her made her proud. Little did she know that Fela was referring to a different kind of _real_ party. And if she were honest, she probably wouldn’t have spoken to Lady Penelope if she wasn’t wearing that diamond necklace Fela intended to steal.

Fela didn’t feel guilty about it though. For a couple of reasons.

First, Lady Penelope was rich, the loss of the necklace wouldn’t affect her much.

Second, gloating over Isolde and Eamon’s loss of their son and heir was revolting. Lady Penelope had a rotten personality, she enjoyed the misfortune of others just a bit too much.

She was one of those people who gathered around a burning house to watch other people scramble and run about with buckets of water. Not to help, _please_ , there were people for that. No, watching a house burn down was _exciting._ Lamenting the loss and how ‘ _dreadful’_ it must be for whatever family lived there was _entertaining._ Even better if someone died, better still if that someone left behind a few unfortunate children. The juicier the story, the better. Which meant, the more horrifyingly tragic, the better. Never mind that the stories were about real people who suffered in the real world. That wasn’t the interesting part. No, the interesting part was retelling it dramatically and _feigning_ sympathy to _gain_ sympathy. The easier method to gain sympathy would have been to help whatever unfortunate family had lost everything they owned, be it human, elven, dwarven, Qunari, or a mix. But Lady Penelope wasn’t interested in helping, she only wanted the excitement and the false sense of being an interesting person with interesting things to say. It was simply a way of establishing some kind of social status as… Fela wasn’t sure. It got Lady Penelope attention, that was the whole point of it. Entertainment, excitement, and attention. Fela was going to give her all three of those.

“Has anyone interesting caught your eye this evening?” Fela asked idly.   
“Besides yourself and your husband, Your Grace?” Lady Penelope replied. Fela closed her eyes to hide an eyeroll.   
“I was thinking more along the lines of interesting bachelors,” Fela replied with a conspiratory look, “I’ve seen you look at Bann Teagan.” Lady Penelope looked up at Fela bashfully, she probably would have blushed if she could do so at will.   
“Well… He is a rather handsome man, Your Grace,” she said shyly.   
“Brave too,” Fela replied, “his arrival at Fort Drakon during the Battle of Denerim was instrumental in our victory. We would have been overrun without him.”   
“Fort Drakon is where you fought the Archdemon, isn’t it? Your Grace?” Lady Penelope asked.   
“It is,” Fela said with a nod, “Bann Teagan was part of the battle with the Archdemon.”

Lady Penelope instantly went giddy with excitement and threw a lecherous look Teagan’s way.   
“He must be so very brave,” she gushed.   
“Skilled too, to survive the battle of Denerim, to fight his way through the city, to reach Fort Drakon where the Archdemon was trying _very_ hard to tear us to pieces. He walked away from that battlefield a lot less scathed than I did, that’s for sure,” Fela said truthfully.

Then again, some one on one with an Archdemon did tend to get you torn apart. The fact that Fela and Alistair were both in one piece had as much to do with luck as with skill. Fela nearly got thrown off the fort, after all, and Alistair nearly got burned alive. Zevran had nearly gotten torn in half by the sharp spikes on the Archdemon’s tail.

Their survival was a big fat middle-finger in the face of impossible odds. Their victory was that same finger up the impossible odds’ ass.

“Why haven’t you spoken with him yet?” Fela asked, “he is quite amicable, I’m sure he’d enjoy talking to you.” Lady Penelope shot Fela a calculating look, probably wondering if she could get Fela to introduce her.   
“Oh, but I wouldn’t know what to say,” Lady Penelope gushed.

“Now, Lady Penelope,” Fela said in silky tones, “there is a fundamental flaw in that line of thinking.”   
“Your Grace?” she asked with raised eyebrows.   
“You are thinking of yourself as a flower that needs to lure bees with bright colours and sweet scents. But a flower is rooted in the ground. Are _you_ rooted in the ground, Lady Penelope?” Fela asked like a teacher might ask a pupil.   
“I- no, Your Grace, I am not rooted to the ground in any _literal_ sense,” she replied with a confused frown.   
“It’s a metaphor,” Fela replied, “you are not a flower, and he is not a bee. You are not rooted to the ground, unable to do anything but wait for him to come to you while he hops from flower to flower, making you wait your turn.”   
“Well… when you put it like _that…_ ” Lady Penelope mumbled, adding a quick, “Your Grace.”

“Now, if you are not a flower, what are you?” Fela asked, leading the plump woman to a spot from where they could spy Bann Teagan without being seen.   
“I… I don’t know, Your Grace,” Lady Penelope replied hesitantly as Fela stood behind her and put both of her hands on the shorter woman’s shoulders.   
“You could be a cat,” Fela said quietly, “studying your prey before you move in. Watch his movements, his speed, his alertness, forming a perfect plan of attack, and then _pounce_.”

Fela flicked the nail of her thumb against the clasp of Lady Penelope’s necklace while she talked, unhooking it without making contact with the skin while Penelope’s attention was on Bann Teagan.

“You could be a wolf, prowling around your target until you corner it, use your pack to isolate him and then attack,” Fela continued, giving Lady Penelope’s shoulders a light squeeze and hooking her thumbs around the loose ends of the necklace before putting some pressure on them to make Penelope hunch over a bit, lifting the necklace from her chest naturally, now held up by only her thumbs.

“Or you could be a hawk,” Fela went on, “study him from afar and then swoop in at the perfect moment, take him down in one dive when he is helpless.” At the last word, she gave Penelope’s shoulders another firm squeeze, as if she were massaging a fighter about to go into the ring. Then she let go, swiping the necklace as she lifted her hands, releasing one end to swing it into her palm, muffling the sound with more inspirational speech.

“There is no reason why men should be hunters and women prey, Lady Penelope, you have claws and teeth, why not go out and hunt?” Fela finished, pocketing the necklace.   
“Claws and teeth?” Lady Penelope asked breathlessly.   
“Yes, claws and teeth. Your weapons,” Fela replied, “you love a good story, yes? Bann Teagan has a very exciting one, go get it from him, sate your curiosity. Do what you do best and then, maybe you sate something else.”

Lady Penelope turned to Fela with fierce determination written across her face.   
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Lady Penelope gasped, “I think… I think I shall go talk to him now. Thank you, for your encouragement.” She clasped Fela’s hands with hers in a gesture of deep appreciation and gratitude.

Fela returned the gesture with a warm smile, hooking her thumb behind one of the large rings on Lady Penelope’s hand.

“Any time, Lady Penelope,” she answered as Penelope withdrew her hands, leaving one of her rings between Fela’s thumb and palm. With a last bow, Lady Penelope waddled off in Bann Teagan’s general direction, taking another glass of wine from a servant on the way.

Fela chuckled, watching her go. Lady Penelope was all fired up now, and she had send the drunken fire cracker straight to Teagan. He’d be holding her off with a stick before the night was over. She’d apologise to him later, when enough time had passed that he could laugh about it. Maybe tomorrow morning.

Meanwhile Alistair was entertaining a captivated audience with his retelling of the story Sten had told just before the Battle of Denerim. The one where Asher solved a mystery. Fela watched him for a while. He’d been dreadfully anxious about speaking in front of crowds before, but now, he seemed comfortable.

She felt proud, of the way he had developed in the role of King. He had not changed much, he was still a little goofy, and he still joked a lot. He just wasn’t as awkward about it, much less worried about what others thought of him. He’d outgrown just being a bastard. Now he was King Alistair, son of King Maric. That he was a bastard mattered little now that he had proven himself a hero and a great leader like his father. He was a Theirin, through and through, and that was enough. He had taken the throne out of a sense of duty, and he worked hard to repair his broken country.

Those efforts, had not gone unnoticed, especially since they were already paying off. Trade was steadily returning, food prices were kept at manageable rates, and vegetation had started to return in the scorched parts of the country that had been infected by the Blight.

His decision to burn those lands had payed off tremendously, the earth was recovering from the Blight quicker than ever in recorded history. Previously, Blighted lands had simply been abandoned because they were uninhabitable. So Alistair figured that if they were going to be lost for decades anyway, they might as well try something drastic. And by drastic, he meant; ‘let’s kill it with fire.’

Consequently, it had not spread any further than it already had. Normally the Taint would continue to creep and corrupt for a while before it sort of.. ran out, once the darkspawn in the area left or got killed. The spread of the oil-stain had been halted by burning away the oil itself, consumed and turned to ash.

Fertile ash. From which now sprouted the brave, first, tiny sprouts. Peeking over the muted greys and browns of a scorched wasteland like numerous little, green, middle-fingers in the face of the afore-mentioned impossible odds aftermath. The country was healing, thanks to a few key-decisions made by Alistair.

Fela moved in to hook her arm through Alistair’s when some of the crowd dispersed after he finished the tale of a mystery-solving-Mabari.

“Enjoying yourself? Your Highness?” she asked after lightly kissing his cheek. He flashed her a side-ways smile.   
“More so with my wife by my side. I’m glad you’re here.”   
“Ugh, this is just…” Fergus made a vague gesture with one hand, “ _ugh._ ”   
“Just what?” Fela asked.   
“So _domestic,_ ” Fergus replied, “so happily ever after, so _toothachingly_ _sweet_ , stop it.”

“I’m going to take that as; ‘I miss the good old days when my little sister and I terrorised parties like this,’ okay?” she replied sweetly.   
“Yeah, okay,” Fergus groused with a slightly petulant look.   
“Why, what would you do?” Alistair asked curiously.   
“Just stir things up a bit,” Fela replied with a shrug, “or make them more bearable in ways our mother disapproved of.”   
“Such as?” Alistair answered expectantly.   
“Smoking elfroot for one,” Fergus said with a pointed look at Fela, “and then eating all the snacks.”

Alistair turned to look at his wife with raised eyebrows. She shrugged again.   
“I like the buzz,” she replied, “I haven’t smoked any since before the Blight though, no right time and opportunity.”   
“You never told me that,” Alistair mused.   
“We were busy,” Fela said, “if I’m going to smoke elfroot, I’m not going to do it while there are actually _reasonable_ excuses to be paranoid.”   
“I suppose the Blight would make that particular habit more bothersome than relaxing,” Fergus answered.   
“ _Habit?_ ” Alistair repeated but Fergus continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.   
“Fae never really got paranoid though, just hungry, happy, and a little stupid.”

For a moment Fela looked as if she was going to punch Fergus in the kidney for that, but then she gave a look that said; ‘yeah, you’re kind of right there.’

“So… what’s it like?” Alistair asked.   
“Depends on the person,” Fela answered, “but usually they feel perfectly content and giggly, provided they have snacks.”   
“And if they don’t?” Alistair asked.   
“They go find some,” Fela replied simply, “so long as it isn’t too much trouble.”   
“Define too much trouble.”   
“Hmm, if it takes more than a sweep of the kitchen?” she said thoughtfully, “I’d get pretty lazy.”   
“You didn’t need to sweep the kitchen, you had servants,” Fergus added.   
“Yeah, I never really had a snack problem whenever the munchies struck,” Fela admitted.

“That makes me wonder what would happen if a Grey Warden got the munchies,” Alistair said thoughtfully.   
“Interesting question,” Fergus replied slyly, “shall we put that to the test?”   
“Nah, Wynne said I should stay away from any such substances,” Fela replied with a subtle gesture to her stomach.   
“I was talking about Alistair,” he clarified. She laughed.

“You want to get the King high? Now?”   
“I don’t see why not,” Fergus answered, “add a new meaning to ‘Your Highness.’” Alistair chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.   
“I’ll admit, I’m curious enough to try it.”   
“Hold on, how much have you had to drink,” Fela asked Alistair.   
“Three or four cups of wine I think, why?” he replied.   
“Yeah, we’ll have to wait for a bit so you can sober up, you shouldn’t mix it with alcohol on your first drag,” Fela answered.   
“She’s right,” Fergus said, “better to give you some time to get some of that booze out of your system.”

“Why? What happens?” he asked.   
“Drink and elfroot together makes the effects of each stronger, so, three cups of wine might suddenly feel like fifteen,” he replied.   
“Ah,” Alistair nodded, “and with the added high of the elfroot, you’d get sick.”   
“Not everybody does, but let’s see how you respond to its effects without booze first,” Fela said brightly, “I’d suggest you switch to drinking apple draw or water.”

“Some coffee might also help,” came Zevran’s lilting accent, “and some food to soak up the alcohol. Maybe bread, or potatoes.”   
“Good idea,” Fela replied with a nod. Not in the least surprised by Zevran’s sudden appearance, he’d been shadowing her since he figured out she was pregnant. By now, she had gotten used to him popping up seemingly out of nowhere. Mostly because she could safely assume he’d be there and he’d be listening, he just wouldn’t be in sight.

“Where’d _you_ come from?” Fergus asked with raised eyebrows, amused by the assassins sudden appearance.   
“From Antiva?” Zevran replied coyly and turned to Alistair, “also, if you’re smoking elfroot, I want in.”   
“Naturally,” Alistair replied after snatching some sandwiches off a passing servant’s tray, “want some?” he asked as he held up a sandwich for Zevran. Who took it with a bow.

“So,” Fela said as she turned to Fergus, “you have elfroot just lying around or will we be indulging from a personal stock?”   
“Personal stock,” he said brightly, “we grow a lot more elfroot than we did before in order to stock up on poultices and health potions. But since we only use the roots for those, throwing away the rest of the plant seems like a waste. So I thought, why not take some of the nicer, leftover plants and hang them to dry out, for recreational use.”   
“You wouldn’t want to waste a perfectly good elfroot plant,” Fela nodded approvingly. Immediately forming a plan to start doing the same in Denerim. Except she would ask Juno to help dry the plants out faster. Her control over fire was so precise, Fela suspected she could do it without setting the plants themselves on fire and still speed up the process.

Not that she’d be smoking any anytime soon, but still.


	78. 'Wild Cat and Bitch-Face'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We wrap a few things up and Fela tells a story.

Lady Penelope was so inebriated by the end of the night, that when she finally noticed her diamond necklace missing, nobody took her seriously. Neither did anyone pay too much heed to the slurred string of curses when she noticed a ring missing too.

If Lady Penelope suspected it was Fela, she didn’t show it. It wouldn’t do to accuse the Queen of petty theft. Then again, she was slammed enough to do it anyway. Whatever inhibitions she may have possessed upon arriving at the soiree, they had been dulled and lowered to embarrassing depth. She’d been all over Teagan since Fela’s little pep-talk. Flirting shamelessly in incomprehensible slurs, meaty arms around his neck and plump breasts pressed against his chest. Despite Teagan’s attempts to pry her off and tell her he did not appreciate her behaviour.

Lady Penelope either didn’t understand his words, or blatantly ignored them. She kept at it until Teagan had finally had enough and asked the guards to remove her from the premises. Fela sat back and watched the scene unfold, knowing full well Lady Penelope would be digging her own grave, figuratively speaking of course, and would even lie down in it on her own account.

By the time most guests had gone home, Alistair had sobered up enough for the experiment they had planned. In the meantime Fergus had the cook prepare a mountain of snacks, Alistair had a huge appetite all on his own, even for a man his size, adding elfroot to that would require some extra.

Alistair and Fela never seemed to stop amazing Fergus with how much food they could put away between them, by now he knew that seemingly ridiculous amounts of food, were not ridiculous at all to the Grey Wardens. Fela had left a little early to change into something more comfortable than her dress and enjoy some peace and quiet before she’d have three giggly men to look after. Plus, her feet hurt and she _really_ needed to sit down.

She was flat on her back on the sofa, legs up over an armrest and feet in the air. Zevran quietly cleaning a dagger in a chair across from the sofa.

“You displayed some marvellous sleight of hand tonight,” Zevran said idly.   
“Thanks,” she sighed in reply.   
“I liked your pep talk,” he continued, “the little Lady was eating it up.”   
“She was pretty drunk,” Fela answered, staring up at the ceiling.   
“You’re being modest,” Zevran said sitting up to look at her, “just take the compliment, querida. It was well played.” She turned her head to give him a smile.   
“Thank you Zev.”

“Now let’s have us a look at that necklace,” he said expectantly. Fela dug it out of her pocket and tossed it his way, followed by the ring.   
“Nice,” Zevran hummed appreciatively, “I didn’t see you take the ring, well done. What do you plan on doing with it?”   
“Fence it to gather coin,” she answered, “then use that coin for a memorial for the previous Commander of the Grey in Ferelden.”   
“Interesting strategy for a Queen,” Zevran chuckled.   
“The man was a thief,” Fela explained, “it’s what got him conscripted into the Grey Wardens. It seemed appropriate.”   
“Stealing in a thief’s honour,” Zevran mused, “yes, I see how that’s appropriate. Why a diamond necklace and a ring though?”   
“Their owner won’t miss them too much, she isn’t exactly a hard working civilian,” Fela replied.   
“Yeah, it’s not easy feeling sorry for that one,” Zevran said.   
“Right?” Fela said rhetorically, “you should have heard her talk about Connor, the mage boy from Redcliffe.”   
“I remember him,” Zevran said, “and I did hear her talk about Connor.”   
“She’s a tick, part of nature’s balance but nobody really knows why,” Fela replied darkly, “even maggots and vultures serve a purpose.”   
“Harsh, but true,” Zevran assented, “she could be a mosquito too I think.”

Fela chuckled before she broke into laughter.   
“Yeah, she could be a mosquito too. Or a leech.”   
“I thought healers used leeches,” Zevran answered.   
“Only quacks and conmen do that,” Fela replied, “it doesn’t work, only makes whoever is being feasted on weaker by draining their blood, making it harder for the body to fight a disease or heal an injury. In case of heavy blood-loss a transfusion could be beneficial, but draining a body with leeches offers no benefits whatsoever.”   
“When did _you_ become a healer?” Zevran asked.   
“Alistair has taught me basic medicine,” she answered.   
“Basic medicine, is washing your hands before treating a wound,” Zevran replied.   
“Fine, he taught me the difference between bullshit and actual medical practice,” Fela amended, “better?” Zevran chuckled in response.   
“Si, querida, si.”

Alistair made it back before Fergus did, admiring Fela’s loot when he noticed Zevran holding it.

“This necklace must have cost a fortune,” he said as he took it from Zevran to hold it up to the light.   
“It’s pretty, isn’t it,” Fela replied with a smile that reminded Alistair of a happy cat.   
“There’s a ring too,” Zevran held it up for Alistair to take.   
“How did you manage to take someone’s jewellery off them?” Alistair asked curiously.   
“By misdirecting her attention,” Fela answered and stretched. “

And she was pretty sauced,” she added after sinking back on the sofa after her stretch.   
“Where did you even learn this stuff?” Alistair continued.   
“A good question,” Zevran said and perked up, both of them looking at Fela expectantly.   
“I had a friend who got up to a lot of mischief,” Fela said with a shrug.   
“Was this the friend that tried to steal your horse?” Alistair asked, making Zevran chuckle and give Fela a surprised look.   
“The very same,” Fela replied with a fond smile.   
“Sounds like a story,” Zevran said innocently.   
“You mean entertainment while the rest of you are too baked to form coherent sentences,” she said knowingly.   
“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Alistair said while he made his way to the sofa Fela was currently on and nudged her to sit up so he could join her.   
“Nah, but let’s wait until Fergus gets here,” she replied and nestled herself against him. Zevran and Alistair decided they could live with that and struck up a conversation about which cheeses might be brought in later.

Fergus came in a few minutes later and chuckled when he saw Fela sitting in a simple tank top that did nothing to hide the swell of her stomach. He opened his mouth to comment on it, but thought better of it when he remembered the punch to his sternum. Vicious little fists hit hard.

“How are your feet?” he asked instead. Fela narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.   
“Why do you ask?”   
“You’ve been on your feet all evening,“ he replied, “Oriana’s feet would get sore.” Her expression softened a bit.   
“They do feel painfully tired and a little swollen,” she admitted.   
“They don’t look so bad,” he said reassuringly, “you still have tiny feet.” She frowned, then sighed, looking slightly pacified.

“Sit up,” he said and pulled up a chair so he could reach Fela’s feet.   
“If you start tickling me Fergus, Maker help me, I will kick your face off,” she warned after pulling her knees up to get her feet out of his reach.   
“I’m not going to tickle your feet,” he said with a chuckle, “but a foot rub might help.” She narrowed her eyes at him again, but eventually moved to sit so she could put her feet in Fergus’ lap. He started on one foot, and Fela decided this was alright, relaxing a little.

“If it’s alright with you, I could do your other foot,” Zevran offered.   
“Yeah ok,” Fela replied, “this really helps Fergus, thanks.”   
“No problem,” he replied. Alistair frowned a little.   
“Somehow I feel like _I_ should be doing that.”   
“Pull up a chair, I’ll give you some pointers,” Zevran said as he took Fela’s other foot.

Fela was more than happy to let the Antivan assassin show Alistair how to give her a foot rub. Zevran was _good._ The cramped feeling in her soles eased up, and the nagging pain in her heels and the balls of her feet subsided quickly. And Alistair learned fast. Fergus moved so Alistair could take over from him and proceeded to prepare a shisha while Alistair and Zevran worked on Fela’s feet.

By the time he had it set up and the coals were hot enough, Fela’s feet felt much better and she had laid back down with her head in Alistair’s lap. Fergus took the first drag, slowly exhaling a plume of white smoke.

“Yeah, that’s good,” he said contently and offered it to Alistair. He took it a little hesitantly.   
“So I just… breath in?”   
“Yeah, go easy though, slow, shallow breath,” Fela replied, “then let it out slowly.”

He brought the shisha pipe to his lips, and took a tentative breath. He coughed a little on the exhale, looking at the pipe between his fingers and following it back to the shisha with his eyes. He felt a little lightheaded, but pleasantly so. He also felt lighter, like he could float off at any moment.

“Interesting,” he said slowly, noting that the shisha had a beautiful shape. A clear, round glass sphere at the bottom, filled halfway with water with an artfully sculped neck on top. It was decorated with small ornaments where the pipe connected to it. It curved into a little bowl on top, with the coals resting above it on a small grate. While he admired it, he took another drag, deciding he enjoyed it.

Why he was suddenly so interested in the shisha, he wasn’t sure, all he knew was that it looked awesome and that was enough.

“That’s a really nice shisha… pipe, vase, thing…” he added with a dreamy smirk plastered to his face. Fela chuckled, looking up at him from his lap. He looked down at her adoringly, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead tenderly before taking another drag and passing the pipe to Zevran. Alistair leaned back on the sofa and let out a content sigh while moving his hand to the swell of Fela’s belly.

“Looks like he’s enjoying it,” Zevran said in between drags, observing Alistair with amusement.   
“Yes,” Alistair said in a hazy reply, “he is enjoying it.” Fergus and Zevran observed him with identical grins, boyish, red-eyed, and a little silly. They continued sharing the pipe, while Fela started to tell the story about Jessy, the horse-stealing maniac that she ended up befriending. Alistair let himself sink into the sofa, boneless and happy, while he listened and slowly got high.

The elfroot was agreeing with him.

“I was fifteen or sixteen I think,” Fela began, “and I wasn’t supposed to be riding all alone, but, you know.”   
“I know,” Fergus said and pointed a finger at her while looking at Zevran and Alistair meaningfully, _“never_ listens.”   
“Not true,” Alistair said, “she listens to me sometimes.”   
“Sometimes,” Fergus repeated knowingly, “not all the time.”   
“Si, si, ella es muy terca,” Zevran supplemented lazily.   
“What?” Alistair asked.

“Shush,” Fela interrupted, “he said I’m stubborn, anyway, I was riding along the coastline, because the horse liked running through the surf and I liked the splashing. The coastline out here isn’t exactly a white sand beach with palm trees. Driftwood, parts of wreckages, large rocks, fallen trees, there’s all sorts of stuff out here, so it was like we were doing an agility course and I wasn’t really paying attention to anything but where we were going, which wasn’t anywhere in particular but the point is I wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention to my surroundings. So when this girl suddenly stumbles into my path, I stop to see is she’s alright.” 

“Please, miss, I need help,” she says. So of course, my pre-adolescent brain decides I need to help this girl and doesn’t spend a single second wondering if it’s a good idea to stop for a random stranger.   
“What’s wrong?” I ask, and before I know it, she’s yanked me off my horse, I’m on the ground and she took off with my mount. I chased them for a while, but obviously I couldn’t keep up with a horse. However, once I had chased them into the trees, where the ground is softer than the pebbles and rocks that make up the beach, they left a trail for me to follow.

So, being more stupid than brave, I followed it. I could have just gone home, but that would mean my parents would know I had snuck off by myself _and_ managed to get my horse stolen. It was stupid to go after a thief on a horse, on foot, all by myself, but I wasn’t fully aware of how stupid I was at the time. So off I went, into the trees and shrubbery. And as luck would have it, I found my thief. Just not my horse.

I found her knocked out cold, and judging from the hoofprints, the horse had figured out it was carrying the wrong rider and had thrown her after she lost control. Now, I was stupid, just not an asshole, so I went to see if she was alright. She was breathing, but she wasn’t really responding to anything. And while I was pissed off, it didn’t feel right to just leave her there all vulnerable like that. So I put my cloak under her head to support it, and waited.

Well, I turned out her pockets too but that seemed only fair. Turns out, she noticed, and when I had my back turned she jumped me.

I threw her off, and she kicked my legs from under me. We got into a scuffle, like a couple of angry cats, and when I finally managed to pin her to the ground, she noticed my face.

“ _You!?_ ” she asked, and we stopped our fight.   
“I want my horse back,” I replied, because that was all I could come up with.   
“Yeah? Well, tough titties,” she replied, “what are you going to do about it?”   
“I haven’t thought that part through yet!” I said, because I really hadn’t.   
“You _do_ realise, your horse took off after it threw me, right?” she asked.   
“Oh _really?_ I thought you might have had a sudden revelation that made you realise your wicked ways and set it free,” I said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes at me.   
“So you turn out my pockets, you think that’s gonna buy you a new horse?”   
“You _stole_ my horse!”   
“ _You_ took my stuff!”   
“Yeah, because you are obviously not going to give me my horse back!”   
“Because I don’t have it anymore!”   
“Not my fucking problem!”   
“You still have my stuff!”   
“Because your stuff doesn’t run away when it realises you are a _piss_ _poor_ _rider!_ ”

She headbutted me for that, hard, right on the nose. I had a massive nosebleed. 

She wriggled free while I was disoriented, and moved to pin me down instead of her. To her I looked like a rich girl, which was totally correct of course, but that meant she didn’t expect me to recover from it as quickly as I did. So instead of running, she tried to take her stuff back, which gave me the opportunity to take her in an armlock. She struggled, for a pretty long time too. And eventually, she decided she wasn’t going to get out of it and surrendered with a sigh.

“So what now?” she asked.   
“I don’t know yet!” I replied. Which made her laugh.   
“You don’t do this very often, do you?”   
“I don’t get my horse stolen regularly, so no, I don’t do this very often.”   
“Are you just going to keep me pinned and hope it comes back?”   
“I don’t know, it might just return home on its own.”   
“Unless somebody else gets to it.”   
“You’re not helping!”   
“Wasn’t trying to, look, you just give me my stuff back, and I’ll just walk away, ok? Like this never happened.”   
“If it’s going to be like nothing ever happened, I need my horse back.”   
“Well _I_ don’t have it, go look!”   
“I’m gonna!”   
“Hurry up then!”   
“Fuck you!”   
“No, fuck _you!_ ”

It escalated from there, let’s just say we exchanged some interesting lingo and it was nothing noteworthy.

“Alright, you know what, I’ll help you look for your stupid horse,” she said finally said, “and then you give me my stuff back and we both go our own separate ways. Deal?”   
“How do I know you’re not just going to run off?”   
“You still got my stuff,” she replied.   
“And that’s supposed to be enough?”   
“Yeah well, not everybody is rich enough to own a horse! I need that money.”   
“For what?”   
“ _Food, you idiot!_ ”

That caught me off guard, I never needed to worry about my next meal, or what it cost for that matter. But I took six coppers, two lockpicks, a thimble, and a ribbon off her. And I wasn’t sure six coppers was going to buy her much food.

“Fine, you got a deal,” I decided, “I’ll give you your stuff back when we find my horse.”   
“Oh, feeling charitable, are we?”   
“You want your stuff back or not?”   
“Fine.”

We spend a good hour following the tracks the horse left, we didn’t speak much, because obviously we didn’t like each other very much.

“What were you going to do with my horse anyway?” I asked after a long, _long,_ silence.   
“Sell it,” she answered with a shrug.   
“You know people who’ll buy stolen horses?”   
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t, what do you care?”

What _did_ I care? This girl wasn’t a friend, she was the horse thief that headbutted me in the face. So I shrugged.

“Just curious.”   
“Curious how us ‘simple folk’ make a living?” she sneered.   
“I’m curious how someone who obviously _barely_ knows how to ride a horse, decided to go steal one.”   
“Why?”   
“Because it was stupid.”   
“Yeah? So what were you doing all alone out here, aren’t you supposed to prepare for being someone’s wife or something?”   
“Ugh, you sound like _every_ other person I ever met while going out for a ride.”   
“Yeah? What if I told you, you should smile more?” she challenged.   
“The resemblance to _any_ old geezer is uncanny,” I replied dryly.   
“I hate it when people tell me I should smile more.”   
“Tell them to mind their own stupid faces, always works for me.”   
“Why is it that people expect girls to always smile anyway? We’re not retarded.”   
“Because frowning messes up our pretty faces, or so I’m told.”   
“They want to look at something pretty, they can go find it somewhere else.”   
“My point exactly.”

We went back to silence. Stumbling onto some common ground was a little awkward, and I was still mad at her for stealing my horse. But, I had to admit I was starting to get curious about her. Where did she come from, where did she live, I didn’t even know what her name was. So I asked.

“What’s your name?”   
“None of your business.”   
“Fine, don’t tell me.”   
“What’s yours?”   
“Why would I tell you mine if you won’t tell me yours?”   
“Because that’s how you make proper introductions, didn’t they teach you any manners?” she sneered.   
“Speaking of, let’s talk about how stealing horses fits into proper manners, shall we?” I rebuked.   
“You’re one to talk, you robbed me while I was out cold instead of checking I was alright, how does _that_ fit into proper manners?”   
“About as well as stealing a horse you can’t control and then lose it,” I replied flippantly.   
“So neither of us has any manners,” she concluded, “we might as well skip names altogether.”   
“What should I call you then?”   
“How about… Wild Cat?” she said thoughtfully, I shrugged.   
“Works for me.”   
“So what should I call you?”   
“I’ll go with…” I thought for a moment, so Wild Cat decided to help.

“How about Bitch-Face?” Wild Cat opted. I scowled at her.   
“Yes! Just like that! I’m gonna call you Bitch-Face,” she said brightly. I shook my head.   
“Whatever.”

That was the start of our friendship, of Wild Cat and Bitch-Face. And our first adventure was to find the horse Wild Cat had lost. We eventually found it by a river, where it was having a drink as if nothing had happened. It approached me when it saw us coming, and nuzzled my ear. Wild Cat watched while I whispered gentle words and patted the horse’s neck.

“So you’re not a total asshole,” she observed, “good. Now, I’d very much like my stuff back.” I fished her things from my pocket and held them out for her.   
“As promised.” She snatched them from my hand quickly and put them safely away in her own pockets.   
“So… thanks. For helping me look for him,” I said when she turned to walk away.   
“Whatever Bitch-Face, see you around,” she said.   
“Wait,” I called and moved to the horse’s packs to find the food I had planned on eating for lunch.

“Want some?” I asked and held out a bottle of fruit wine and a hunk of cheese. Wild Cat hesitated.   
“Why are you offering me food?”   
“I’m hungry, so I figured you must be too,” I replied. She arched an eyebrow.   
“Well, I was never one to say no to freely offered food.”

She joined me on the riverbank, where I laid out what I had brought with me. She looked it over appreciatively.

“Nice, where’d you get this?”   
“From our pantry at home,” I replied and used a small knife to cut slices of bread and spread some marmalade from a small jar on it. Wild Cat tensed when she saw me taking the knife out of my pocket, realising I had carried it the whole time we were looking for my horse.

“Relax, if I was going to draw a knife on you I would have done it after you headbutted me in the face,” I said when I noticed her reaction.   
“Fair point,” she said stiffly and took the slice of bread I offered.   
“Are you any good with it?” she asked.   
“With this?” I asked and held up the knife, “I’m still training.” Wild Cat looked at me inquisitively.

“Aren’t you a rich girl?”   
“Yeah, obviously,” I replied and popped the cork from the bottle of fruit wine.   
“Rich girls don’t usually train to use a knife,” she said. I shrugged.   
“Neither do they train with the knights, study martial arts, dual wielding, and javelin throwing. But as you can see, I’m quite spoiled.”   
“But why would you learn how to fight, don’t you have people for that?” Wild Cat asked.   
“We do, but that’s no reason to make myself an easy target,” I answered. I offered Wild Cat the wine after taking a sip, and she took it with a curious look on her face.

“You’re a weird one,” she said and took a long drink.   
“Yup,” I replied, “but I am letting you call me Bitch-Face so you should have known that already.” She snorted a laugh and choked on her wine.

“I’m curious,” she said after she had recovered, “why would you want to train with knights, and how the hell did you get them to let you?”   
“Long story.”   
“I’ve got time.”   
“I don’t feel like telling it.”   
“Alright,” she said easily.

“What about you? You throw a good punch.”   
“A girl needs to know how to defend herself,” she said with a shrug, “same as you.”   
“Long story that you don’t feel like telling?”   
“Yep.”   
“Alright.”

We fell quiet while we chewed our food, looking for a new topic of conversation in our heads.

“This wine is really good,” she said idly.   
“It’s cherry,” I answered.   
“Ooh, _expensive,_ you really are loaded, aren’t you?” Wild cat said appreciatively before reaching for a piece of cheese.   
“Are you thinking of robbing me again?” I asked and she gave me an impish grin.   
“Kinda,” she admitted, “but I won’t,” she added quickly, “I mean, for a failed horse-theft this turned out alright. You’re not calling any guards on me, and you are giving me fancy food. I’m gonna take my winnings and call it a day.”   
“Reasonable,” I assented and we went back to eating.

“You’re pretty good with that horse,” Wild Cat said, “I saw you riding on the beach from a long way off.”   
“Thanks,” I replied.   
“I wish I had learned how to ride like that,” she said and looked up at my horse with a dreamy look on her face.   
“It’s pretty awesome,” I replied, and got an idea.

“If you like, I can try and teach you a few things on the way back to town. SO next time you steal a horse you'll know what you're doing.”   
“Ooh, that’d be great!” she said enthusiastically, “you know, if you trust me not to run off again.”   
“I was thinking I’d give you a ride back to town, he is strong enough to carry us both,” I replied and nodded towards the horse, which was now happily chewing grass.   
“That works,” she said cheerfully, “it’s better than walking anyway.”   
“After we’re done eating, though,” I added.   
“I like the way you think,” she grinned and took a piece of a sausage I’d brought.

We ended up emptying the bottle of wine, and being two skinny girls we got pretty shitfaced. So, before we went back to town, we had a swim, built a small dam to create a little bath, climbed a tree for walnuts, which we cracked with rocks from the river, and built a hut out of sticks. When we finally started on our way back, the sun was setting. We didn’t make it back to town until deep at night, because we got lost for a bit. But we had a great time.

I got to know her a little better, she lived alone in a small apartment in Highever, had no family, but she had a cat she adored, and she survived mostly by stealing. She did the odd job here and there, but it wasn’t easy to find a job when you were poor and parentless. To most, she was just a stray. She had a hard life, and to survive, she had to get creative. Meaning she scammed gullible people out of money, stole her food whenever she could rather than paying for it, regularly acquired some ‘goods from uncle,’ and sold them in a shady pawnshop. It had also hardened her, she did what she did to survive, and didn’t look back.

So, getting past the attempted theft of my horse was as simple as sharing a bottle of wine. If she figured she could get something out of having a rich friend, I was fine with that. Because, well, who didn’t? And knowing she had to scrape by all by herself, of course I wanted to help. Despite the attempted horse theft. It was part of the reason I offered her lunch and a ride. But I also did that because I was interested in her. She came from an entirely different world, represented a part of society I never experienced, and I wanted to know more."

Fela paused and stretched, trying to decide how to continue. It had been a while before Wild Cat shared her actual name, but the story behind that wasn’t particularly interesting. A more interesting story, was when Wild Cat got drunk and got herself stuck in a tree. Fela had to coax her down with the promise of more booze. Like an actual cat, she hadn’t exactly thought about getting down while she was going up. And when she realised how high she had gotten, she was afraid to come down because she was so drunk she might fall out. Which, she did. Not from very high though, and Fela sort of caught her. Meaning Wild Cat fell on top of her which kind of broke the fall. Both got away with some bruises and scrapes, nothing more. They were too drunk to feel it at the time, anyway.

“But her real name was Jessy, right?” Alistair asked, “you just said her name was Jessy.”   
“She told me her real name after a while,” Fela replied, “but I mostly kept calling her Wild Cat.”   
“She also kept calling Fela Bitch-Face,” Fergus added with a hazy grin, smoke trailing from his nostrils.   
“She did,” Fela chuckled, “Wild Cat had a weird sense of humour.”   
“You think she might still live here in town?” Alistair asked. His eyes were slightly red by now.   
“Maybe,” Fela replied, “I don’t know what happened to her after Howe took Highever.” Zevran perked up and gave Fela a toothy grin.

“We should find out.”   
“That, is actually a good idea,” Fela said, then thought on it some more, “she’s going to be pissed I disappeared on her.”   
“Especially after all the stories she probably heard about you,” Fergus turned to Alistair, “she is going to be jealous as a cat of you.”   
“Me? Why?” Alistair asked.   
“Because you got to do all this awesome stuff,” Fergus answered, “knowing Wild Cat, she probably felt left behind.”   
“I think she would have come with me,” Fela mused, “she’s crazy enough.”   
“Wild Cat is positively insane,” Fergus answered.   
“Because she calls you Lord Fergie?” Fela challenged.   
“A little,” Fergus replied petulantly.   
“You attract crazy people,” Alistair observed, drawing circles on Fela’s belly with one hand, “I’ll believe she’s insane.”   
“Yo también,” Zevran said as he slouched and took a long drag from the pipe that Fergus offered. Alistair arched an eyebrow.   
“He said, me too,” Fergus supplemented.

Fela glanced at a window to see the moon was high in the sky by now, and so were the men that had been listening to the story of how she had met Jessy, Wild Cat.

“I’m tired,” she said with a yawn.   
“Were you planning on actually sleeping tonight?” Fergus quipped, “because, if not, there’s some more pretty good stories about Wild Cat.” Fela chuckled.   
“I am certainly going to try, do you have any idea how much energy this baby is costing me?”   
“Worth it,” Alistair said happily.   
“Careful Alistair, pregnant ladies don’t like it when you say things that suggest their discomfort is dismissible,” Fergus warned.   
“Oh, right,” Alistair said and glanced down at Fela, who looked back up at him expectantly.

“But… it is, isn’t it? You’re not… regretting anything, right?” He stammered, making Fela laugh.   
“I do love watching you squirm. Yes, it’s worth it.” Alistair smiled impishly and tickled the side of Fela’s belly, making her yelp and jerk.   
“I can make you squirm too,” he teased.   
“Okay,” Fergus broke in, stretching out the first letter, “on that note, where do we stand on more Wild Cat and Bitch-Face stories?”

Fela sighed and relented, settling for a dramatic retelling of how she coaxed a drunk Wild Cat down a tree. She may have filled in bits and pieces, she had been pretty smashed at the time. But she clearly remembered a discussion where Wild Cat wanted her to throw the bottle up because she wanted a drink. Fela had refused, but Wild Cat had decided she had nothing better to do than attempting to convince Fela that a bottle toss was awesome. Suggesting all kinds of tricks she could do.

Fela had tried a few of them, but nowhere near where Wild Cat might catch it. Wild Cat was a clumsy drunk but with the right incentive, she could display remarkable acts of dexterity no matter how drunk she got. Though when Fela accidently hit her own head with the bottle while trying one of the tricks Wild Cat had been describing, she laughed so hard she had to hug the branch she was sitting on to keep from falling off.

She couldn’t recall why Wild Cat had climbed up the tree in the first place, just that she was afraid to come down. While Wild Cat seemed convinced she was trapped, Fela knew her to be an apt climber who was more than capable of coming down. But sometimes, Wild Cat was like… well, a cat. And this time, she wanted to be rescued.

Eventually, Alistair fell asleep on Fergus’ couch and couldn’t be roused. Fela didn’t want to sleep in her rooms alone, so she and Fergus gathered the mountain of blankets, furs, and pillows from Fela’s room and she nested in front of the hearth. Asher lay snuggled against her back for warmth.

Zevran decided it was a slumber party, and slept on the other sofa after stealing one of Fela’s blankets. She didn’t mind, she had plenty. It all worked out, it was much easier to sleep in this setting. Zevran and Fergus’ presence, and the fact that she was sleeping on the ground, made it feel a little like they were at camp. Plus, she knew Zevran to be a light sleeper, a necessity in his life as a Crow. And that meant she could trust there was someone else to pick up any noise she didn’t if Asher didn’t wake her.

She slept lightly, and awoke more than a few times to some noise, and once to Alistair joining her. Apparently, sleeping in a sitting position with your head hanging back and your mouth wide open, wasn’t a comfortable one.

All the same, she slept. Albeit in portions, she slept, and counted that as a win.

* * *

“So you’ve got a handful of gold pieces, and what appears to be some kind of snuff box,” Fela inspected Fergus’ loot with a critical eye.

“Hey, I did the best I could,” Fergus said defensively, “I had a lot of attention on me.”   
“Who’d you get the snuff box from?” Fela asked curiously, opening it. Inside were some leftovers of a fine white powder, cocaine, Fela guessed.   
“Bann Esmerelle,” he said sheepishly and Fela chuckled.   
“Good to know,” she replied brightly and closed the snuffbox with an audible ‘click,’ “do you mind if I keep this?”   
“It’s supposed to be for Duncan,” Alistair said.   
“So you can fence it off on me,” she said with a shrug and pulled a small purse from a pocket in her skirts, “how does ten gold sound?”

“Like more than it even cost in the first place,” Fergus said brightly and accepted Fela’s gold and put it on the table with the rest.   
“Unless you count the cocaine that’s still inside,” Fela answered and quickly held up a hand when she saw Alistair’s frown, “not for _me,_ ” she added, “Bann Esmerelle has been a pain in my ass, ever since you passed her over for the position as Arlessa. And this little box, tells me something she has been keeping secret.”

That seemed to satisfy her husband enough to let it go. Fela could turn small bits of information like these into weapons, it told her more of Bann Esmerelle’s ‘ways.’ Added a new factor to her behaviour, and her motivations. One Alistair knew Fela could exploit if she needed to. Not that the nobles frowned on recreational use of certain substances, nobles got bored, they indulged. But, cocaine was highly addictive, and _that,_ could be used.

Withdrawal in particular, would result in certain mental weaknesses, and there was nobody who could fuck with someone’s mind better than Fela. Using such a thing against someone was extreme, it was psychological torture, it could drive people to suicide. But it couldn’t hurt to have a cheat up her sleeve in dealing with Amaranthine’s nobles. Knowledge is power, as they say.

It gave Fergus goose bumps and made his insides grow cold, knowing what Fela could do with this information. She wouldn’t do it unless she had no other choice, and she would probably kill Bann Esmerelle before she resorted to psychological torture. But he knew that she could.

His sister was dangerous, it was a simple fact, harmless people didn’t kick despots off thrones and kill Archdemons.

But she had a good head on her shoulders, and a good heart in her chest, if it could be avoided, she wouldn’t exploit Bann Esmerelle’s ‘hobby.’ But if you trust your opponents to play fair, you have already lost when it came to courtly affairs. Fela just chose to be prepared.

“So have you thought on the memorial?” Fergus asked, moving on to a new topic of conversation.

Alistair explained he wanted an artist to design a monolith dedicated to the Grey Wardens. Preferably made entirely out of stone and built to last. No statues in dramatic poses, no gaudy ornaments, or inlaid gold or jewels. That wasn’t what the Grey Wardens were about. They were the silent guardians, the watchful order, the first line of defence against darkspawn, ever vigilant. Alistair wanted that reflected in the memorial. So it would be a monolith, to represent the Order watching over the realms of men throughout the ages. Paid for with the gold on the table in front of them, and whatever Zevran could get for the diamond necklace and diamond ring Fela had lifted off Lady Penelope.

A lot, Fela expected. He could sell them as they were, or pry out the diamonds, have the gold smelted down and sell them separately. Either way, it should bring in a nice stack of gold. Fergus wrote down a few notes, and sent his steward to take care of finding a sculptor.

After that, Fela intended to sneak off and be alone for a while. And she would have, if Eamon had not come to find them before she had a chance to.

Eamon bowed after he entered.   
“Your Grace,” he greeted each of them politely, “I hope I am not interrupting.”   
“We were just wrapping up, I suppose,” Alistair replied and looked at Fergus, “unless there was something else?”   
“No,” Fergus replied brightly, “I have some duties to attend to anyway.” He rose, “I’ll give you the room, I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Alistair motioned for Eamon to sit while Fergus left.

“It’s about those men from the Anderfells,” Eamon explained, “my people have found correspondences with Weisshaupt, with orders to investigate you.”   
“Issued by the first Warden?” Alistair asked rhetorically, and Eamon nodded.   
“They don’t trust us,” Fela said blandly, her tone almost bored, “but they aren’t sure why.”

“You are both new and extremely influential people among their ranks,” Eamon said with a frown, prompting Fela to explain.   
“That is true,” she conceded, “but we also did something they can’t explain.”   
“Because you survived?” Eamon asked, and Fela gave him a nod.   
“That, and the fact that we ended this Blight much quicker than any have been ended before. But now, darkspawn linger on the surface,” she added.

She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know or could have found in a library, she just put some things into perspective for him.

“They are simply looking for a reason,” Fela said, “if they had anything solid we would have been summoned to Weisshaupt by now.”   
“They won’t find any,” Alistair added, “we did our jobs.”   
“That would mean leaving them to probe about, wouldn’t it?” Eamon said thoughtfully, “what if they find something and misinterpret it?”

“Making them disappear isn’t a viable option yet,” Fela shrugged, then grinned as she realised what Eamon was getting at.   
“But we can control what they find,” she said with an appreciative smile, “and make sure they interpret it right.” ‘Right,’ meaning, in a way favourable to Fela and Alistair, be it true or not. But Eamon didn’t need to be told that, the man was a politician.

“I have just the thing,” she smiled, “I kept a log during the Blight.”   
“An exact copy of that log, altered here and there as needed, would go a long way, wouldn’t it?” Eamon said with a sly smile.   
“They can have the original for all I care, I’ll drop some mention of it in the right circles, they’ll come for it,” she replied. Of course, she had not included Morrigan’s offer in her log. Some secrets were better kept committed only to memory.   
“Excellent,” Eamon said with a broad smile, “I assume it is in the Palace in Denerim?”   
“Indeed it is,” Fela answered.   
“Denerim is pretty far form here,” Alistair said with a frown.   
“You could send your assassin friend,” Eamon opted.   
“Not a chance,” she replied, “he insists on being my shadow for the duration of my pregnancy.” Eamon arched an eyebrow.   
“I don’t see him now?”

“That’s because I didn’t want you, amigo,” Zevran whispered in Eamon’s ear with a smug grin after stepping out of the shadows.

The Arl nearly shot out of his chair, prompting Fela to stifle a laugh. Alistair did much better, giving only a slightly amused smile.

“When did you even get here!?” Eamon shouted as Zevran straightened to have a good laugh.   
“Why, same moment you did,” Zevran replied cheerfully, “I was running an errand, which, you’ll be pleased to know has yielded considerable results,” he added, turning to Fela and Alistair.   
“What about being her shadow?” Eamon asked, almost petulantly, and nodded to Fela.   
“When my Queen is in the presence of her noble husband, the King,” Zevran said in silky tones, “I am hardly needed. I _do_ need personal time you see.” He said it with a smirk that said ‘and so do they.’   
“Then I take it you are aware of what we just discussed,” Eamon said, “perhaps you’d like to weigh in?”   
“I agree with Fela,” Zevran said, “I do not intend to leave her side. But, perhaps letting them take the original while we are away is beneficial. Simply send instructions to one of your Wardens in the capital to have a copy made. Leak the information at your leisure, and wait.”   
“I like that plan,” Fela said, “it would get them out of our near vicinity too”

“Are you worried about having them near?” Eamon asked.   
“No,” Fela said, “I just take pleasure in steering them away from us.” Eamon chuckled at that.   
“Well, if it will satisfy our unjustifiably paranoid colleagues,” Alistair said wryly, “I’ll happily let them break into my home.”   
“I’ll send a bird to Stroud,” Fela said, “and take care of starting a rumour in due time.”

Eamon and Alistair nodded, it made sense that it should come from Fela herself, she was still the Commander of the Ferelden Chapter. Eamon excused himself shortly after that, feeling the issue had been properly addressed and would be properly dealt with. Zevran counted out one hundred eighty gold to spend on the memorial after that.

It was going to be an _awesome_ memorial.

The rest of their stay in Highever went relatively smoothly. They attended tea parties, soiree’s, and toured the city. Fela felt it was all terribly boring, though she made a good effort to hide it. She just wasn’t meant to sit around and talk or eat all day. She was doing a lot of that lately, and she didn’t like it.

The most exciting thing that happened, had been the rain pipe she had been climbing coming loose from the wall. After hanging absolutely still for a few breaths, she had continued her climb slow and steady. The drop wasn’t that high but she didn’t want everybody to come running when the rain pipe clattered to the cobble stones. The point of climbing the pipe, had been to hide away for a few moments of course. She had found a sunny spot near the southern watchtower, high up and with a good view of the country side, when she was eight years old. She had been coming there regularly when she was younger.

She had been a skinny child and teenager, skinny enough to climb a rain pipe. Now she felt fat and pregnant, too heavy for the poor rain pipe, and that made her cranky. Her stomach got in the way during the climb, her boobs were sore, and her back ached. She was also pretty sure she had peed a little on the first careful exhale when she was hanging onto a pipe that was about to come off the wall.

After Highever, they made their slow way along more cities, and more nobles to have tea or lunch, or brunch, or dinner, or whatever, with. She tried to be on her best behaviour, she really did. But she kind of failed when she broke two of Lord Henley’s fingers in West Hill when he reached for her stomach when he noticed the swell of it. It had been a reflex, mostly. However, touching the Queen was deemed wholly disrespectful, so the fact that Fela broke the man’s fingers didn’t cause her too much trouble.

It did for Lord Henley though, he had made a right idiot out of himself. It has to be said that the man got piss drunk during the forty fifth dinner or so, and was not fully in control of his faculties. So when he stumbled into a chair close to Fela, and she was kind of slouching in her own chair at the time, he noticed. So much for formally announcing it to the court, because he had shouted something along the lines of, ‘izzat-a baby bump Izee?’

Then he screamed when Fela broke two fingers on his outreaching hand, and the whole thing turned into a scene. In which, Lord Henley kept shouting to everybody who wanted to hear that the Queen was pregnant, and well on her way from the looks of it. She never got a chance to shut him up before he had the words out. So the secret was out, there was a royal baby on the way, and a good portion of the female nobles went absolutely bat shit crazy.

Some because they wanted babies of their own, some just loved babies in general, and others were just nuts about becoming a grand-parent. Why any of them projected that on _her,_ would forever remain a mystery to her.

By the time they finally made it back to Denerim, Fela felt absolutely huge. Granted, she had entered her third trimester by then. And it was starting to get uncomfortable. Firstly because the baby seemed dead-set on kicking her liver into a fine pathé. Second, she couldn’t sleep comfortably unless she was on either one of her sides, and being the fussy sleeper she was, she liked being able to move around a lot. Alistair had been hampering that with what Fela had started to call ‘the sleepy bear headlock.’ But now that her stomach was getting really big, her freedom of movement was even more limited.

It was too obvious to hide now, so instead of dressing to hide it, she dressed comfortably. Leggings and a tunic, most of the time. She didn’t bother with dresses, she looked ridiculous in them at the moment.

Or at least Fela thought so.


	79. The Games We Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to Denerim. Where Fela get's her game on.

Fela was glad to be back in Denerim.

Glad for the privacy of their own chambers, the lack of eight social visits each day, being able to lock the door and tell everyone to piss off if they came knocking. The first day back home, she had spend in bed, not allowing anyone but Alistair and Asher in the room. Not even Zevran.

He understood that, she had been aching to truly be alone, and while touring the country it was hard to do that. Besides, it gave him a day off. Fela was his best friend in the world but shadowing her for months like he had, they got a little tired of each other’s presence. Friends sometimes needed to spend time apart too, even best friends.

The next morning was taken up by seamstresses who would provide more comfortable clothing.

No matter what kind of pants she wore, her belly got in the way and that made them sag off her ass. It annoyed her to no end to have to pull her pants up every three steps. So, when they offered her some maternity clothes to wear while they worked on properly fitting ones, she had been happy enough to start crying, _again._

Luckily, odd behaviour in pregnant women was nothing the seamstresses hadn’t seen before. And it was met with understanding, one even told Fela she had been _much_ weepier during her first pregnancy. It only made her cry harder of course. But it was alright. The middle-aged woman had dared to attempt to comfort the Queen, normally, they were so afraid to displease they barely dared to speak. And Fela was mostly just thankful to be treated as a pregnant woman, rather than a vengeful ruler that inspired fear.

She wasn’t a vengeful ruler that inspired fear, not by a long shot, but she felt that way sometimes. Get treated like one long enough, and you might start to believe it yourself. Anyway, she ended up having tea with the seamstresses, taking up the early afternoon.

The sun had long started its descend by the time she made it to the Grey Warden compound. Stroud had taken over in her absence, she should check in on him and discuss how they would proceed with Fela in her current position.

He spotted her once she stepped onto the training grounds, opened his mouth to greet her, hesitated as his gaze went down to her stomach, and broke into a wide smile. He instructed the recruits to continue their exercises, and approached.

“It’s good to see you, Commander,” he said warmly and clasped her forearm.   
“It’s good to be back,” she replied sincerely, “between you and me, I was bored out of my skull half the time.” Stroud snickered at that.   
“Dare I ask what you were doing the other half? Besides breaking a man’s fingers?”   
“Heard about that did you?” Fela smirked.   
“We also heard the rumours as to _why,_ you did that,” Stroud replied.   
“I’m not sure which ones, but you can safely assume it’s because he tried to touch my stomach when he noticed it. Though I would have still done that if I had not been pregnant, so,” she made an indifferent gesture, “it could have been worse.”

“I’ll forego asking to feel the baby then,” Stroud quipped.   
“Come now, even if I wasn’t territorial about my personal space, that’s just unseemly,” Fela replied playfully.   
“You’re right of course,” Stroud chuckled, “may I ask how far along you are?”   
“You may, a little over six months now,” she replied politely.   
“That explains the vomiting then,” he smirked, “good, I was worried something was wrong.”

He was referring to Fela’s morning sickness during their trip to Kinloch Hold. He had never asked her about it after she assured him she was fine, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t looking out for her. He couldn’t have someone poison her, even if he didn’t get along with her, Grey Wardens were supposed to look out for each other. And Stroud took that quite seriously. That they happened to be on a friendly basis now was just a lucky side-effect of their working together. He trusted she would do the same for him.

He wasn’t quite sure what made him feel so assured of that, after all, she had not been happy with his presence when he and his colleagues arrived in Denerim. But, given the room to go her own pace, she came around on that. Working together towards the same goal also helped.

Fela brushed the comment aside with an easy laugh.   
“How have our newest Wardens been progressing?” she asked and gestured for Stroud to follow her back to where the recruits were training. Rory stopped to wave when he noticed them approach, and got smacked on the butt by Dan, who took advantage of Rory’s distraction.

“Better than you’d think,” Stroud said as he watched the display. The others stopped their exercise when they noticed why Dan and Rory had stopped and turned to watch Fela approach.   
“Commander!” Dan said cheerfully, “you look well.” She arched an eyebrow at him.   
“I look six months pregnant,” she corrected and smiled.   
“I can see that Commander,” Dan replied with a bow, “but I maintain you look well.”   
“Thank you,” she chuckled.   
“Kiss-ass,” Rory hissed under his breath, earning an innocent smile from Dan.

The other recruits seemed to wrap their heads around their Commander _actually_ being pregnant, and soon she was surrounded by her recruits like a litter of happy puppies. All except Nate, but he _did_ approach her to shake her hand and congratulate her. Which, Fela considered a step in the right direction.

“Congratulations, Commander,” he said somewhat stiffly.   
“Thank you, Nate,” she said sincerely.   
“I uh, realise we haven’t gotten off to a good start, but you have my best wishes,” he replied, cautiously meeting her eye. She gave him an assuring nod.   
“I appreciate it, thank you.”

He awkwardly excused himself, and moved to get a cup of water. Fela had not caught his gaze like the last few times they met, they made eye-contact, yes. But making eye-contact with Fela seemed to… do something… the last few times he spoke to her. But this time, nothing had happened, he hadn’t been pulled in or felt exposed like he used to. Whatever she had been doing during their chats when he was still in his cell, she wasn’t doing it now. And he was pretty sure it was because this time, he had not been actively trying to antagonise her. Indeed, Fela had not made an effort to hide the fact that she was pleased that Nate was making an effort to be civil.

It made things easier for everyone, really.

He continued to watch her as she talked to the others. Out of curiosity mostly, and a little because he was unsure of how to act in her presence. He watched his colleagues as much as he watched her.

Over the last four or five months, he had gotten to know the other Grey Wardens a little better. And one thing they all had in common, was the way they looked up to their Commander. It was the first thing he noticed after being introduced to them, and it had made him suspicious. The one who had shown him around, Mhairi, had practically idolised ‘the Hero of Ferelden.’ Not only did she believe many of the wild stories about Fela, she claimed to have heard much of what she knew from Fela herself.

Nate had decided to ignore Mhairi concerning that particular subject, no need to start an argument. He had only just gotten there. But then, he spoke to Rory, who made outrageous claims about Fela’s battle prowess. Nate was no fool, Rory was no simple muscle head, and he wouldn’t openly admit to getting his ass kicked during sparring sessions with a woman if it wasn’t simply the truth. Nate had seen what the war-axe wielding brute could do eventually, and that made it even harder to believe that the beefcake had not stood a chance against her.

Then, Juno had told him about the uprising at Kinloch Hold, and Fela’s part in preventing annulment. He had questioned Fela’s ability to fight through a tower full of demons, abominations, and blood mages. Juno simply went on to explain that, while she had not seen Fela in action during the uprising, she _had_ seen her in action during the siege of Redcliffe. And then on the way back to Denerim after Fela had recruited her.

She then said she didn’t really give a damn what he believed, and promised him he would see soon enough. He got along with Juno reasonably well, so long as they didn’t discuss the Commander. Dan had been much the same, but Daena…

Well, that was a confrontation he would rather have avoided. It had put a few things into perspective though. Daena had been purposely avoiding being alone with him. He didn’t think too much of that, elven women did that all the time, and for good reason. Nate didn’t blame her for that, not that she had anything to fear from him. But she could hardly be expected to blindly trust him. Eventually she seemed to relax though, and stopped avoiding him whenever she was alone.

And then he had made the mistake of asking her about the scars on her hands. When she immediately told him she didn’t want to talk about that, he had made the mistake of pressing her. It had come from genuine concern, but that was not how Daena took it. She had gotten mad, told him to piss off and find someone else to bother. When he didn’t back down, she had punched him in the throat.

By the time he had recovered she was gone, but he had gone right after her to find her and demand an explanation. He just went on to make more mistakes from there. In the end, Dan and Rory had dragged him off, sat him down, and explained why Daena did not like talking about her scars.

He had never felt so stupid in his life. He should have just backed down when she said she didn’t want to talk about it. He should have let it go when she got mad. Following her after she punched him in the throat had just been down right stupid.

Daena had been strictly professional after that, and kept him at as large a distance she could manage. Juno, Dan, and Rory did their parts. Protecting Daena in their way. He had apologised for his behaviour, in front of the others, since they weren’t going anywhere. But all she had given him was a stiff nod.

Seeing her now, hugging the Commander affectionately and congratulating her with tears in her eyes, he realised something. They were all there, for _her._ Skinny little Fela Cousland, the girl with dark circles under her eyes, the one that never quite fit in anywhere.

What the hell happened while he was away? He could ask her… he wasn’t quite sure if he _wanted_ to ask her though. Plenty of time to think about that, she didn’t look like she would be going anywhere any time soon.

“You really resent her, don’t you?” Nate jerked when he heard Daena’s voice behind him. He had never even noticed her leave the group he was watching.   
“Are we on speaking terms now?” He replied without turning around. Annoyed with himself that she had managed to sneak up on him.   
“You keep making the same mistake over and over you know,” Daena replied quietly, moving to stand next to him.   
“Enlighten me,” he sneered back.   
“You assume too much,” she replied, “you don’t stop to think and wonder why.”   
“Your wisdom is duly noted,” he deadpanned.

She wasn’t wrong though, the thought that there might be a different reason than he could come up with when Daena had refused to speak about her scars, had never even crossed his mind. He had assumed. So he had missed the way her face twisted in pain as if she recalled the feeling of her fingers being broken. He had missed the terror lining her voice when she spoke, and the way she had looked at him as if _he_ was the reason behind her scars. He had simply dismissed all those things as being unjustified. And then Rory and Dan had told him where she had gotten them, and who was in charge there.

“It’s hard not to resent her,” he finally said, quietly.   
“She knows,” Daena replied. They fell silent for a while, watching the Commander admire Juno’s newest trick, Fade-stepping through the training yard.

“When I got out of Denerim,” Daena began quietly, “I fled back to Redcliffe. That’s where I met her.” Nate turned his head a little to watch Daena as she spoke.   
“She took care of me when nobody else would,” Daena continued, “I was hurt, badly, so she saw to it I received medical care. I was broke, so she paid for my living expenses, she still does. And she kept me safe.”   
“Why?” Nate asked with a mild shake of his head.   
“Because I did something that shouldn’t have been possible, and she wanted to know how. And because she believes loyalty should be rewarded with loyalty, it works both ways,” Daena replied.   
“What made you trust her?” Nate asked.   
“Her honesty,” Daena replied, “she was quite upfront about the reason why she wanted to know how I did it.”   
“Which was?” he asked.   
“Because it was your father who had all this done to me,” she answered, looking straight at him, “and he was after her too.”

Nate looked away first. Being confronted with his father’s violent tendencies this way made it hard to focus on her face. It made it hard to focus on anything, really, he felt as if he was watching it happen from outside his own body. Right up until the moment he started feeling sick.

“For how long have you known? That I’m his son, I mean,” he finally managed to ask in a hoarse voice.   
“The Commander told me before you were introduced to us,” Daena replied, “she also told me you have been in the Free Marches these last couple of years and you truly had nothing to do with what your father did.” Nate felt like he was reeling now.

“Why do you think she would do that?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice low and even.   
“She told me, because she wanted me to know you are not my enemy. She spoke about her childhood, and yours.” Daena paused, chewing on her next words.   
“I believe she was looking out for me, and for you too. She used transparency to make it easier on us both.”   
“Make what easier?” Nate asked.   
“Well, it makes sense to worry about me, as the victim,” she held up her hands, “but it’s easy to forget that coming face to face with me might not be easy on you either.”   
“By telling you about me?”   
“By telling me that you are not your father, and that you had no part in the things he did. She gave you a clean slate in that respect.”

He had to admit, that last bit came as a surprise to him. A big one. While it was true he had nothing to do with the things his father did, the thought that Fela had actually had good intentions by telling Daena about him, was hard to swallow.

“What would you have done? If she hadn’t told you?” he asked quietly.   
“I’d rather not think about that,” she replied.   
“But she did,” Nate added.   
“She looks out for her people, including you,” Daena said, “I’m guessing she never bothered telling you that, because you wouldn’t have believed it.”

Nate stared at the ground. Now that he knew where Daena’s scars came from, he _did_ feel a staggering amount of guilt and shame, amongst other complicated feelings towards his father he’d rather not bother with. If he had not pressed Daena on the issue, he wouldn’t have known. And Daena let him be because Fela had explained he had no part in his father’s crimes, against her or anyone else.

Fela had spared him the mess he now found himself in, up until he fucked up on his own.

He let out a heavy sigh, it was getting harder and harder to hate her. Of everything she could have done to him, she did _this._ A new start with a clean slate. These were not the actions of a person that meant you harm. He had fucked up on his own, twice now. Fela was not the monster he wanted her to be. This truth had been staring him in the face from the moment he had seen her skulking over the rooftops, he had felt it but not admitted it. She was weird, he would give himself that. And dangerous, obviously. But not evil. But admitting that… consequently meant that his father was the sadistic monster the stories painted him as. And that wasn’t exactly a pleasant alternative to believing it was Fela who was the monster.

_Fuck!_

Nate turned, and left the training yard.

* * *

Fela left the compound in a good mood, things had gone well.

Stroud would continue his command until Fela’s baby was born and she was well enough to resume her duties. Nate had been civil, her other recruits had been ecstatic. It felt like coming home. They were genuinely happy she was home, they had missed her, apparently. Even though Stroud would be doing the heavy lifting, so to speak, Fela had every intention of continuing to be a part of the day to day proceedings.

She wouldn’t be sparring, if she even suggested it she doubted anyone would willingly take her up. No need to put them in a position like that. She didn’t even spar with Alistair anymore, restricting herself to solo exercises. She missed it, sure, but she didn’t feel comfortable sparring anymore. The baby kicked like mad last time, and she had taken it as a sign that sparring was now off the table.

The baby seemed to agree, resuming the occasional stomp on her liver. It got more rowdy if she was excited, and settled down when she relaxed. Whether that was a side-effect of Fela’s connection to the Fade, or a sign that her baby had the same sight, she wasn’t sure. But it amused her to no end, like she and the child had a secret line of communication and they _always_ agreed.

Asher looked up at her with a wide doggy grin while they walked. As always, he was in on it. And he picked up on Fela’s good mood. 

Stroud had informed her that the copy of her log was finished and that the original had been returned to her office in the Palace. She had not been there yet, but she expected the thing to be long gone by now. She had kept it decently locked up, but not so decently that it couldn’t be stolen. She could hardly put it in the middle of her desk with a bow tied around it. She decided that, if it was still there, she would make a deal with one of the more ‘well-connected’ servants. It’s hard to break into a palace if you have no one on the inside.

She took a detour to check in on Mitsy and her friends, pleased to find the groundskeeper had added some more stuff for them to climb on. Perhaps the old man was coming around on the goats. Next was a snorty reconciliation with her horse. After that, she made her way to her office. Her log, was indeed missing. She wrote a note to Stroud informing him she had not found her log and asking him to come see her on the morrow. She sighed, and stretched, contemplating what to expect next.

The log would keep them busy for a while, but not forever. For the time being, she would have to keep up appearances. Meaning she would have to investigate. Because that was what you would do if someone broke into your office, especially if you were a Queen. What if they did it again? It wouldn’t do to let someone who knew how to get in and out unnoticed running around. So she would have to play the part.

She wrote up instructions for Teagan next, find out who might have gained access at one point or another, find out who had been on duty, the usual. Instructions for Zevran to conduct his own investigation followed, although those weren’t written down.

“It’s our move” Fela said, “they would expect me to react, so we’ll show them what they expect to see.”   
“How may I serve,” Zevran said with a bow. Fela rolled her eyes.   
“You are setting up an investigation of your own, one that Teagan won’t know about. Your task is to figure out how they did it, it might lead you to them, it might not, but it will be useful information either way. Kick down some doors, rattle some cages. Making an impression is more important than results at this point.”   
“As you wish,” he replied.

Zevran was going to be _very_ busy, but he didn’t mind. He liked playing along with Fela’s ruse, and he was curious to see how this would unfold. She was playing a game with the Grey Wardens from the Anderfells, and Zevran, considered himself a _very_ playful man.

It was a lot of unnecessary work, but doing nothing would look pretty suspicious. They _had_ to react, it wouldn’t work if they didn’t. Fela bit her lip as she thought, she’d have to instruct the guard Captain to go over their security and improve it too. With a sigh she started writing another set of instructions. Then paused, and wondered if she should ask Dan to look for flaws and weak spots. He had a thief’s eye, rather than a guard Captain’s eye. She decided she would ask input from both. No cutting corners. So she wrote down two more sets of instructions. And then another for Daena, who also possessed a talent for getting into places she wasn’t supposed to be. When she finally cleaned her pen and closed the ink bottle, the sun had sunken below the horizon. She got up with a sigh.

“I’m turning in for the night,” she said quietly, “I suggest you get to work.”

Zevran remained while she left her office, smiling to himself. He very much enjoyed Fela work, he always had, but now, she had proper resources. And yes, she was paying him handsomely, but that was merely a nice side benefit. It was her idea to pay him, not his. She had set her own price for his services, and even if she hadn’t, he’d still be exactly where he was right now.

Scheming and playing games, it was what he did best.


	80. A Clean Slate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First, smut. Then Nate had some complicated feelings, and Fela ends up prying him out of a seedy tavern. She catches up with Stroud about her log after that

Alistair was reading a book when Fela entered their rooms, and promptly closed it when she walked in.

“There you are,” he said slyly, “you look like you’ve been up to no good.”   
“I was indeed plotting nefarious plans, your Highness,” she replied in a soft purr, “but I assure you they are _all,_ to your benefit.”   
“Do I want to know what you were doing?” he asked with a chuckle.   
“I was just doing what any Queen would do if she discovered someone had broken into her office,” she said innocently and sauntered over to sit in Alistair’s lap.   
“And are you enjoying your game?” he asked coyly.   
“Very much so,” she replied and pressed a gentle kiss behind his ear, “but I’m done playing for today.”

A hum of appreciation vibrated in Alistair’s chest as she kissed his neck. One hand had long since made it to her ass and the other held her against his chest. The fingers of both hands started digging into her flesh when she reached his collarbone. The hand around her ass now crept to her thigh and dipped down, the subtle brush of his fingers made heat race down into her core. She spread her thighs without conscious decision, grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled to claim his lips, Alistair gladly complied, nipping at her bottom lip while he kept stroking her with featherlight touches. Teasing and exciting her further.

She held on to him like she wanted to climb him, pulling him as close as she could and digging her fingers into his skin.   
“Bedroom?” he whispered in between fevered kisses.   
“Or anywhere in between here and there, just get your clothes off,” she replied breathlessly.

He complied, releasing his hold on her so she could stand, and got right to it. Meanwhile Fela took the opportunity to do the same, letting everything drop to the floor where she stood. She was about to straddle Alistair in his seat when he stopped her by putting a hand on her stomach.   
“Damnit,” she groused when she realised that the position she had in mind was not exactly possible at the moment. Alistair stood and tapped the seat.   
“On your knees.” She let out an appreciative hum, she loved to hear him say those words, and did as she was told.

Alistair took a moment to appreciate her rear, running both of his hands along the curve of her ass. She cast him an exasperated look over her shoulder, so he smacked it. The impact had her grabbing on to the back of the seat she was on, making a sound that was more like a pleasured sigh than a yelp. He leaned over her as he ran his fingers along her sex, finding it pleasingly wet.

“You’re always in such a hurry,” he whispered against the shell of her ear and smacked her ass again before dipping a finger into her pussy, drawing another pleased sigh from her lips.   
“All wet and ready and I’ve barely even touched you yet,” he continued. The deep rumble of his voice made her insides knot with anticipation, it made her clench around his finger.   
“I’d bet gold you’re wishing it was my cock inside you right now,” he whispered as he curled his finger and started moving it with slow deliberate strokes. He took her moan as confirmation. He played with her a little before lining himself up and pushing just the head of his dick inside. Alistair held her hips when she tried to move back and take him deeper. He bit the back of her shoulder, slowly pushing in further as he held her still, setting his own pace.

Fela was panting now, gripping the back of the seat with a tighter than necessary grip. Alistair always drew out their pleasure, but damn if it wasn’t the sweetest torture. She watched him over her shoulder, she liked to see how his face twisted into something raw. Eyes closed, jaw clenched, brow furrowed. Maker, he was gorgeous like that.

He didn’t waste any time once he was fully seated inside her, and worked up a tantalising rhythm, allowing her to move with him. She rolled her hips with each of his thrusts, creating more friction, and more of that wonderful feeling she could never get enough of. Alistair appreciated the view as much as the feeling, watching her move through half lidded eyes. Giving the occasional slap to watch her flesh dance with the impact. It wasn’t long before her skin tasted like salt when he bent down and kissed the teeth marks he left on her shoulder. He nuzzled the back of her neck before pulling back up, placing his hands on her hips.

She was moaning and panting with each thrust now, arching her back with each roll of her hips. She rested her forehead on the backs of her hands, where they gripped the back of the chair she was on. Alistair picked up the pace. Her pussy clung to him each time he pulled back, and enveloped him in slick heat each time he thrust forward. Wet, velvet, heat. Yet his breathing still came in steady controlled breaths, despite the appeal of losing himself in her. The way she felt on his cock, the way she moved beneath his hands, the constant stream of moans and sighs.

Not yet. More first. More of her cries, more of her scent, her flesh. Warm, welcoming, pliant flesh.

Fela however, had let the sensation of his cock filling her up take over her mind. There was only Alistair, moving inside her, stroking that sweet spot deep within. She matched his pace, moving frantically as she chased her high. She revelled in it, drowning her senses in him and leaving no room for anything else. She cast a look over her shoulder to watch him move. The way his muscles rolled beneath his skin, the way sweat beaded on his forehead and his chest.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes when she turned her head, holding on to his image in her mind. She cried out louder when she felt one of his hands wrap around her throat and pull her back. The other hand remained on one of her hips, tilting them just so. With her back arched like this, she couldn’t move her hips with him. He held her so she had no other option than to just take it. And he got the angle _just perfect._

Alistair could feel the tension as it spread through her muscles, it was in the way she ceased up under his movements and the way her breath caught. That brief moment of silence before she broke into uncontrolled moans and her cunt spasmed around him. Her inner walls rippled and clenched, milking his cock as he prolonged her orgasm long enough to reach his own. He leaned over her as they rocked to a stop, kissing her shoulders and the back of her neck. She still rested her forehead on her hands, purring slightly at the soft ministrations. He didn’t put any of his weight on her, supporting himself on the armrests of the chair.

An aftershock ran though Fela’s body, making it squeeze down on his over-sensitive cock. He gasped at the feeling, a twitch running though his abdominal muscles. Fela chuckled, and clenched on him again. Making him groan and pull out quickly.   
“ _A_ _h-_ Maker, woman!”   
“Hmm?” she replied innocently as she pushed herself up and out of the chair.   
“Tease,” he groused and wrapped his arms around her middle, cradling her belly.   
“I wouldn’t dare,” she cooed, entwining her fingers with Alistair’s on her stomach.

“Liar,” he answered, and kissed her temple, “so, bedroom now?”   
“Later,” she replied, “right now I want a bath. Nice and hot, my back is sore.”   
“Oh, sorry,” he replied, “I did pull you into an awkward angle, didn’t I?”   
“Oh, it’s not your fault,” she said reassuringly, “I would have stopped you if I didn’t agree.”   
“You should let me know if you’re uncomfortable,” he chided gently.   
“And stop you from fucking me into oblivion? Never,” she answered with a mild shrug. Alistair chuckled and leaned down to nuzzle the side of her neck.

“Well, you went straight for it when you walked in.”   
“Yes I did,” she admitted, a little smugly.   
“I love it when you do that,” he whispered, holding her a bit longer before letting go and gathering his clothes, “go get comfortable, I’ll find a servant.”   
“You’re sweet,” she replied and kissed his cheek before pulling her tunic over her head. 

Alistair took care of her back pains. Zevran had given him some pointers on that too, apparently. There was no way for her to lay on her stomach comfortably but if she laid down on her side, he could just do one side at a time. By the time a servant called to inform them the bath was ready, he had worked out all the knots and she was near dozing off. They spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, quietly chatting away about whatever came to mind. It was one of those few nights they got to spend as a married couple.

No guests, no visitors, no interruptions with ‘urgent’ messages, nothing. Courtesy of Fergus, who played his part as ‘mother hen’ fabulously.

* * *

When Fela met with Stroud the next day, he was mortified that Fela’s log had disappeared after it had been in his care.

She suspected he would be starting a little investigation of his own, though she didn’t order it. She was curious to see what he would do, once he figured out who took it. It would be interesting to see him react to colleagues from the Anderfells chapter investigate them so covertly. On top of that, he had been the last person to have it in their possession.

Normally, that would have made him a suspect immediately. But Fela knew Stroud better than that by now, if someone had approached him about her log, he would have let her know. And if he _did_ mean to steal it, he wouldn’t have put himself in the centre of it. Besides, he was only at the centre of it because Fela put him there.

Zevran had payed visits to Fabliaux and Germain. Not to speak to them, but to go through their correspondences and personal items. It was night time when he came to call after all, looking for anything that suggested they had been in contact with any Wardens other than the ones currently in the Ferelden Order. Fela had been waiting for an opportunity to have Zevran do that, and now she had one. Their story would be solid if they found out. And that was a _very_ big ‘if.’

He would be doing the same for Stroud, the recruits had not been privy to Fela’s orders, they didn’t need to be investigated. Not yet anyway, excepting Nate. It was possible that if Grey Wardens from the Anderfells had approached Bann Esmerelle, they also approached him. But she wondered. If Nate knew there was a log written by her, he might want to get his hands on it for himself. Fela would gladly let him read it, but Nate didn’t know that.

Teagan had started his own investigation in several places, among servants, guards, and the current Ferelden Wardens. They didn’t know _when_ the log was taken, that meant they didn’t know who was there when it happened. So Teagan would have to start with the part of the staff that had access to the Royal Wing. That he started to investigate the Ferelden Wardens was a no-brainer, it had been taken after Fela had sent orders to have a copy made. And the copy had been completed.

It had been taken somewhere between the completion of the copy, and the day they came home to Denerim. Sooner or later, he’d pin down whoever was supposed to put it back in its place in Fela’s office. And he would continue from there. Anything he uncovered, he’d report back to her. And anything that was reported to Fela, was therefore reported to Zevran.

* * *

Nate sat in the back of a seedy tavern in the Harbour District.

He had been talking to some people who knew his father. Former employees, associates, people who would have had dealings with him. He had managed to track down a man who had worked as a guard for his father after he had taken over from Vaughan Kendells. He’d left his father’s service long before the Blight ended, and Nate half wished he had never asked the man why.

He had resigned his position as guardsman because he could not, in good conscious, carry out the orders his father gave him. The order, had been to cut a child’s throat. A girl, no more than eleven, who had been caught listening in on a conversation between Howe and his guard Captain. That she was a child, and that they were uncertain if she had truly heard anything, had not mattered to Rendon Howe. The man had also told him about the way his father ran his dungeon. It had sickened Nate, but so far, the stories of his cruelty seemed to be true.

He didn’t want to believe it. But at some point, he had to stop ignoring the ever growing number of people who confirmed the wild stories of his father’s sadism. And the absence of anyone denying it. After the former-guard, he had asked Dan to take him to the Denerim Alienage to talk to the people there. Which had resulted in several accounts of how his father had retaliated for the riots. Hard and bloody. Excessively so. But it wasn’t until he received a letter from his sister, Delilah, confirming it. Their father was a sadistic monster.

So now, he was slowly getting drunk on the cheap dreg they served in the dank, dark, ruin of a tavern. Sullenly harbouring dark thoughts. The alcohol took off the edge, but it didn’t make him any less reluctant to admit.

What Fela had done to his father, he’d had it coming a hundred times over.

How was he supposed to mourn a man like that? Because he did, he mourned a man that had people tortured _and_ _or_ killed to no end, participating in the excesses. Nate was suspended between mourning his father, and despising him. He couldn’t get his head around it, he was appalled by the things his father had done. But his death still hurt, and Nate couldn’t place that. If his father had been a monster, shouldn’t it be easier than this?

He waved over a serving girl through the haze, and asked for another drink. He lost track of time for the brief moment it took for the serving girl to place another drink in front of him. He was too busy being torn apart inside to bother with keeping track of time. He had lost everything and everyone but his sister, and his father was responsible for it.

Because it was never enough, was it? Any wealth or power Rendon Howe gained, was treasured immensely, bordering on pathologically. He’d gotten a taste when he ordered the attack on Highever, and only craved more for it. Like an addict. Thinking on it now, made it easy for Nate to see the spiral. It wasn’t just that he wanted more power, it was that he got away with making a grab for it. Over and over again, he got away with it.

It had blurred all boundaries. It was very easy for a man like Rendon Howe to cross them if there were no repercussions. A distinct lack of empathy made it easier to hurt others, a lack of guilt made it easier to take pride in what he did, and a lack of restraint made it easier to take whatever he wanted. Until Fela forcibly stopped him.

So yes. Maybe she did what she had to. He even understood a little of why she had done it the way she did, just a little. Being confronted with how much the people hated his father had been difficult. Allowing himself to believe that they had a right to, even more so. Then again, the evidence was right there, wasn’t it? Ferelden was currently littered with people who had been maimed by him. One of them, was down a few doors from his own at the Grey Warden compound. More still lay scattered in shallow graves and ditches. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t deny that his father had done horrible things. And while he might not be a fan of the current King and Queen of Ferelden, they were a hell of a lot better than Loghain Mac Tir after what he did. If he had been there, if he had _seen_ what was happening, maybe he could have stopped it.

That thought lead to another place he’d rather have avoided. _Would_ he have opposed his father if he had known about the attack on Highever? Would he have tried to stop him from imprisoning Vaughan Kendells, telling the rest of the country he was dead, so he could take his position as Arl of Denerim too? Would he have stopped his father from sending assassins after the last remaining Cousland? The torturing, the murders… would he have done anything to stop it? Or was he still so desperate for his father’s approval that he would have gone along with it? Was he capable of the same things his father did? Nate dismissed those thoughts, and downed his drink. He didn’t even need to call for a serving girl this time, she set down another cup for him the moment he started looking around for her through hazy eyes.

“Thanks,” he murmured, hoping he didn’t sound as drunk as he felt.   
“No problem, sir,” she replied easily, “so long as you keep paying for them.” Nate pulled another few coppers from his pocket and handed them to her, unsure if she was sympathising with him, or just figured he would be spending more money this evening. Probably the latter.

Because that was exactly what he was planning to do. Drinking himself into a stupor until he either passed out, or ran out of money. The practical part of his mind wondered which one would happen first. This inner-conflict wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. So he might as well numb himself.

Thoroughly.

* * *

Morning drills did not go as expected. Fela frowned when she noticed they were one man short.

“Where is Nate?” she asked, looking at Stroud.   
“I wouldn’t know,” he said thoughtfully, “Dan, would you mind checking Nate’s room please? Maybe he just overslept.”   
“Of course,” he replied and took off. Meanwhile Fela looked over her other recruits.   
“Start your warm up exercises,” she instructed and turned back to Stroud.

“Your thoughts?” she asked idly. Stroud plucked one side of his moustache while he thought.   
“The timing is… odd.”   
“Do you think this issue and our other issue are related?” she continued.   
“It’s not impossible, but not likely either,” Stroud replied. Fela shot him a bland look, a little annoyed by Stroud’s vague answers. But then again, vague questions lead to vague answers. She shook her head.   
“Let’s just hope he indeed overslept.”

“I’m sorry Commander,” Dan said when he returned, “but Nate isn’t in his rooms. He didn’t sleep there from the looks of it.” Fela looked back at Stroud.   
“When is the last time you’ve seen him?”   
“Yesterday during drills,” he replied, “I think he headed into town after that.” Fela sighed.   
“Anything else that caught your eye?”   
“There may have been a letter on his desk and I may have… skimmed it,” Dan replied in a dodgy tone.

“Out with it,” Fela said.   
“It was a letter about his father, signed by a woman named Delilah,” Dan replied. Fela sighed again.   
“You’ll keep the contents of that letter to yourself.”   
“Understood,” Dan said, looking chided.   
“Do you know who this woman is?” Stroud asked.   
“His sister,” she replied, quickly drawing her conclusions while squeezing the bridge of her nose, “find him,” she finally said to Dan, “but don’t approach him. Once you’ve located him, I want you to come get me.”

“Commander?” Dan asked hesitantly.   
“I’ll be needing a cape with a large hood,” she said to Stroud, “and maybe a different tunic,” she added as she looked down at the silk one she currently wore.

“You intend to go talk to him yourself?” Stroud asked.   
“Hence the disguise,” Fela said with an indifferent gesture.   
“Your Grace, I beg your forgiveness, but is that wise?” Stroud asked, nodding to her big round stomach.   
“I’ve known Nate for a lot longer than any of you,” Fela said, “it’s better that I talk to him.”   
“But, Commander, your Grace,” Dan said hesitantly, “you just told me not to approach him, that suggests you believe he might be dangerous.”   
“Not dangerous,” she said, “but he’s a flight risk. And currently going through some heavy shit,” she answered, “really, it should be me.”

“Your Grace, you’ll be unguarded,” Stroud urged, “anyone could get to you if you’re recognised.”   
“I am never unguarded,” she said with a nod to Asher, “and Zevran will be with me too. I don’t intent to take a carriage into the city, I’ll walk, like anyone else.”   
“Then I suggest you change your boots too,” Dan said, “those are far too nice, what size are you?”   
“Will you at least allow me to accompany you? I’ll let you talk to him by yourself but I’ll be nearby,” Stroud insisted.   
“Alright, but you’ll be needing a change of clothes too then, you’re too easily recognised as a Grey Warden.”   
“If I change my clothes, can I come too?” Dan asked excitedly.   
“Sure, let’s make it a party,” Fela said and called for the other recruits to stop their warm up exercises.

“Change of plans,” Fela said, “we’ll be doing a field mission today.” She was met with a few questioning looks.   
“Here’s what you need to do,” she began, “I want you to locate your brother, Nate. His whereabouts are currently unknown and we suspect he has been gone since yesterday. Once you’ve located him, you do not approach him,” she continued, “keep a low profile, and come find me. Nate is not in any trouble, but I need you to leave him be for now. Understood?” A few nods, a raised eyebrow or two.   
“Commander,” Daena said, “is this about Nate’s father?”   
“In a way I suspect,” Fela replied, “why do you ask?”   
“Because he has been asking around about him,” she replied, “and he seemed…”   
“Depressed,” Juno supplemented, “and angry.”   
“He’s _always_ gloomy and cranky,” Rory said with a shrug.   
“More so than usual,” Juno replied, “something is wrong.”   
“That’s why I want to talk to him first,” Fela said, “and I’m counting on your discretion.”   
“You are going into the city?” Daena asked.   
“I just had this discussion with Stroud and Dan, I’d rather not repeat it,” Fela replied, “but if it makes you feel any better, you are allowed to come to watch my back, so long as you can stay unnoticed.” Daena chuckled.   
“Understood.”   
“I’ll be fine,” she assured them, “now, go put some old clothes on that don’t bear any Grey Warden Insignia, and meet me back in the common room. Dismissed.”

* * *

Fela was pleased, it had not taken long for her recruits to track Nate down. And as instructed, they had not made themselves known and had come to get her.

It was mostly Dan and Deana’s work, Juno didn’t know the city well enough and Rory wasn’t particularly sneaky. But they took the opportunity to see the professionals do it gladly.

Now, Fela was walking down a dirty, dank street in the Harbour District, Asher by her side in plain view, Zevran outside of it. Stroud, Rory, and Juno followed at a distance, and Dan and Daena had gone ahead. The name of the tavern was ‘The Drowned Rat.’ Not a very inviting name, but there were worse ones.

At least it kept expectations low, the dump they found Nate in could barely still be called a tavern. Most of the furniture was broken or damaged in some way, the windows, those that weren’t smashed in and boarded up, were dirty and let in very little light. Though to the innkeep’s credit, it did make the thick layer of dirt on the floor less noticeable. The tables were sticky and stained, and the hearth looked like it had not been cleaned in months.

She found Nate in the back, hunched over on the table and nursing a drink.   
“Nate,” she said quietly when he didn’t lift his head at her approach.   
“Nate,” she repeated a little louder when he didn’t respond, and he finally looked up at her with droopy eyes.   
“Oh, hey, it’s you,” he said, sounding mostly confused. The distinct lack of venom in his tone told Fela he was piss drunk.   
“May I sit?” she asked. He gave a shrug.   
“Yeah, whatewer,” he slurred, putting his head back on his arms. She just watched him for a moment, letting silence settle between them. Nate seemed comfortable enough with it. He looked ragged, his hair was a mess, his clothes were dirty, and he was missing a shoe.

“Where’d your shoe go?” Fela asked.   
“Dunnow,” Nate sighed in reply, rolling his head sideways on his arms to look at her with one droopy eye.   
“Maebe- maybe rats tookit,” he said thickly, “there’ssso many fuckin’ rats here, mate, iszridiculous.”   
“Yeah,” she replied, “what made you pick this place?”   
“Iszcheap,” he shrugged, “cheaper booze.”   
“There’s logic in that,” she assented.

They went back to silence for a bit. Nate was in an interesting state, he seemed to have forgotten he hated her guts for the moment. He was comfortable in her presence for once, no reason to rush him into the conversation she wanted to have. She spotted Daena from the corner of her eye, and saw Dan sitting at the bar. They were blending in well, though Nate probably had tunnel vision with an apple-sized diameter right now. He had not given any inclination that he was aware that Asher was present. Then again, the hound simply sat down next to his mistress and seemed to mind his own business.

“Do you come here more often?” Fela asked.   
“Nah,” Nate said, “dis place isza dump.”   
“A dump with cheap booze,” she replied and he nodded. Which looked a little odd while he was sitting in that position but Fela got the message.   
“There’s better places for booze,” Nate added, “why aren’t you there?”   
“I didn’t come for the booze,” she replied.   
“Oh, sucks t’be you then,” he answered.

“Why are you getting drunk on this dreg Nate,” she asked, “I know you can afford better.”   
“Nobody knows me here,” he replied.   
“Why does that matter?” she pressed.   
“Dunno, so I can feel anomalous-“ hiccup, “anonymous I guess.” She nodded.   
“I can see the appeal of that.”   
“You wanna be anonymous too?” he asked.   
“Sometimes,” she replied.   
“Peoples make- dey make all deezazzumptions,” Nate answered, “think dey know you. They don’t. Dumb shits.”   
“Yeah,” Fela chuckled.   
“You did a bunch of weird shit,” apparently Nate was feeling chatty, “now people say weird shit about you.”   
“I know,” she replied. She was happy to let him ramble on for now, they were getting somewhere.

“You changed,” he said slowly, raising his head slightly and swaying a bit.   
“Well, five years is a long time,” she assented.   
“You’re still weird and all,” Nate continued, “but different weird.”   
“I’m ok with being weird,” she replied, “it’s worked out fine so far.”   
“Really? You think that?” he asked. She nodded.

“You got thrown into a Blight and a civil war.”   
“That had little to do with my being weird.”   
“Still pretty shitty.”   
“Yeah, no kidding.”   
“How the hell aren’t you dead?”   
“The right people had my back,” she said honestly, “and because I killed anyone who tried to kill me. Well, almost everyone.”   
“Oh yeah, the Crow,” Nate said hazily, “where’s he at?”   
“Around,” she replied simply. Nate nodded at that, and stared down into his cup.

“Nate, why are you really here?” Fela asked.   
“Duh,” Nate replied with a vague gesture, “I’m forgetting.”   
“It’s not as simple as that though, is it?” Fela asked.   
“No, ‘tis not,” he admitted without looking at her. Fela let out a deep sigh, and tentatively put a hand on Nate’s arm.   
“Nothing ever is,” she said, “why don’t you come back to the compound? At least we have better booze there. And your colleagues are worried.”

“I doubt that,” he replied wryly.   
“How do you think I found you?” she asked with a slight smile.   
“Hmm…” he looked thoughtful, which made him look quite silly since he was obviously drunk, but Fela managed to stifle her laugh.   
“You know all those things you are trying to forget, they don’t matter with the Grey Wardens,” Fela said softly.   
“Waddoyou know about what I’m busy forgetting?” he replied slightly indignantly.   
“I know that it doesn’t matter,” she replied, “that’s all I need to know.”

Of course, she was privy to quite a bit more than Nate was aware of. Drunk as he was, it was easy to see for anyone that he was hurting. And it didn’t take much to conclude why.

“wha- why, did you tell Daena about me? Why’d you dodat?” he asked.   
“She would have figured out who you are sooner or later,” Fela explained, “I decided to get ahead of that.”   
“Szshe saidst- she said you told her I had nothing t’do witthethings my father did,” Nate continued, “why?”   
“Because it’s the truth,” Fela said, “and your past or your heritage shouldn’t matter.”   
“Clean slate,” he mumbled.   
“Yeah.”   
“That seems important to you.”

Fela sighed, he was sharper than she thought in his inebriated state. Time to tell him the truth.

“It’s too easy for me to think of you as my enemy,” she explained, “not because of who your father is, but because of what I did to him. You are a reminder of what I did, and that brings me back to things _I_ would rather forget.”   
“Then why conscript me? You’re stuck widthhme now.”   
“To wipe the slate clean.”

Nate thought on that for a moment.

“Diddit work?”   
“I think so, yeah.”   
“Weirdo.”   
“I know.”   
“No, really, there’s easier ways t’ forget,” he held up his half empty cup, “but you go and make ‘t all complicated.”   
“Just because there are easier ways, doesn’t mean they are better,” Fela replied, “killing or imprisoning you wouldn’t have solved the problem. But this might.”   
“Why, what’se problem?”   
“Letting go of the past,” she answered. He nodded at that.   
“Yeah, maybe…”

“Come on,” she rose, “let’s get you back to the compound so people can stop fretting.”   
“Okay,” he said hazily and let Fela pull him to his feet.

“Oh! _Oooh_ I forgodaboudat,” he said and pointed at her stomach.   
“Yeah, yeah, shh,” she hushed him as she steadied him, “remember we like being anonymous, don’t draw attention.”   
“Oh, yeah, okay,” he moved towards the exit on wobbly legs, bumping into a ruined table and falling on his ass.   
“You can hold on to my shoulder for balance,” she said as she pulled Nate off the floor, “has your bill been settled?”   
“Yup.”   
“Good. Come on.”

It was a _long_ walk back to the compound, especially while steering a drunken man around obstacles. Like carts, other people, and the occasional wall.

Nate was an easy-going drunk, she noted. He let her lead him easily as a lamb. Though it would have gone smoother if he had full control of his limbs. And if he wasn’t so shitfaced that his thinking was too slow to navigate even a reasonably quiet street. Fela was patient. If he remembered this after sobering up, hopefully he would realise she wasn’t his enemy. But that remained to be seen.

In the meantime, she was just glad he wasn’t hostile towards her. That would have caused a scene at some point, which would have lead to people discovering their Queen dragging around a raging drunk. As it was, she got Nate back to the compound without any scenes and left it to Dan and Rory to put him to bed after getting some food and water in him. Which he happily devoured.

After that, she made her way to Stroud’s office and knocked.

“Come in,” he called from inside.   
“Ah, Commander,” he said as she entered, “I understand all is well?”   
“It is,” she replied, “Nate is sleeping it off, he’s going to have the worst hangover of his life in the morning, but he’s alright.”   
“Any idea what brought this on?” he asked.   
“He’s struggling with the loss of his father,” Fela explained, “trying to figure out how to deal with being confronted with what his father did.” Stroud arched his eyebrows.   
“You pulled that from a drunk man?”   
“Yes,” she replied simply.   
“Does that mean this incident is not related to the theft of your log?” he asked.   
“I don’t think so, no,” she replied.   
“That’s a relief. Any chance you know if anyone has approached him?”   
“It didn’t come up,” Fela answered, “it wasn’t the right time to ask.”   
“That makes sense,” Stroud said with a nod, “he’s troubled enough as it is. And I must say, in the past he has been less than civil towards you, how did you get him to come back with you so easily?”   
“I told him that joining the Grey Wardens means he got a clean slate, and that it’s normal to struggle with letting go of the past,” she answered.   
“That’s all it took?”   
“That’s all it took,” she affirmed. Stroud made a slightly surprised noise, like a ‘huh.’

“He is also a _very_ easy going drunk,” she added, “I was pretty surprised too.”

Stroud chuckled.   
“Well then, we’ll pick this up in the morning. I need to make sure this isn’t going to become a recurring thing.”   
“Fair enough,” she replied.   
“I’m going to make him run a hundred laps with that hangover,” Stroud smirked, “that should stick with him the next time he picks up a bottle.”   
“You might want to throw in some push-ups too,” Fela replied, “he’s too quick and light on his feet.”   
“That sounds reasonable,” he answered with a smile.   
“Well, that about sums it up,” Fela said and stretched, “how about some tea? Or something stronger for you if you’d like.”   
“That sounds lovely, Commander,” Stroud said and stood. “Oi, the door is closed.” “That sounds lovely, Fela,” he corrected. “Better,” she smirked, and kicked off her boots while Stroud went to fix Fela some tea.

She sighed luxuriously as she put her feet up, leaned back in her chair, and happily zoned out. She petted her stomach absently where she felt her baby kick and softly hummed to herself. She closed her eyes. Indulging in a fluffy pink cloud of baby love shamelessly while she waited for Stroud. She didn’t open her eyes until he walked back in.

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable,” he chuckled when he set down the tray.   
“Yeah, sorry, my feet are killing me,” she replied.   
“It’s quite alright,” he replied and poured two cups of tea, “The Drowned Rat isn’t exactly a short walk, and, well, you’re pregnant. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to put my feet up too,” he added with a smirk.   
“By all means,” she replied brightly when he handed her a cup of tea, and he dragged his chair around his desk to position it next to hers and sat down. Took off his boots, and put his feet up on his desk.   
“Oh yeah, that’s better,” he sighed.   
“Right?” she assented.

“So how many blades do you have on you?” he asked leisurely.   
“Including the boot knives,” she said, “eight. Thighs, back, and forearms, two each.” Stroud laughed, nearly spilling his tea.   
“If I didn’t know you any better I’d think you were expecting a fight.”   
“Nah,” she said, “I rarely have to use them these days.”   
“It started with only one right? Did that number increase gradually? Or was that just the Blight?”   
“You remember our meeting at the Académie, huh?” she replied.   
“You left an impression,” he shrugged.

“Gradually,” she replied, “my collection grew over the years,” she added with a smirk.   
“Makes sense,” he replied, taking a careful sip of his tea, “may I ask how the habit of carrying hidden blades came to be?”   
“I was attacked once,” she replied, “and killed my assailant in self-defence, with the knife he tried to use on me.” Stroud frowned.   
“You must have been young.”   
“Eleven,” she confirmed.

“Why would anyone want to attack an eleven year old girl?” he asked.   
“Beats me,” she sighed and made a vague gesture, “anyway, that’s where my love for knives comes from.”   
“Wouldn’t most be afraid of knives after such an event?”   
“Maybe, but I figured it gave me the means to defend myself. Things would have gone differently if I hadn’t managed to wrench it away from him, I was a skinny little kid. It was easy logic, it’s better to be a skinny little kid with a knife, than one without.” Stroud nodded.   
“Easy logic indeed.”

“Although, that’s the kind of logic I would expect in a street urchin,” he said, twirling one end of his moustache.   
“True, I lived in safe surroundings, never had to deal with the dangers and risks that a kid living on the street deals with. It wasn’t a necessity, but it was an option. And I thought it was a good one,” she replied.   
“Conscious choice then,” Stroud concluded, “you must have been an unusual child.”   
“Most people use the word ‘weird,’” she replied with a sideways smirk.   
“What word would you use?” he retorted.   
“Weird,” she replied with a shrug, “it’s pretty accurate.” Stroud chuckled and carefully sipped his tea.

“Your recruits did well today,” Stroud said.   
“Hmm,” she replied as she took a sip, “I’m very pleased with their performance. Everything went according to plan, that’s a rare thing.”   
“Indeed,” he nodded.

Silence fell between them as Fela stared into her cup, mulling over her conversation with Nate. If Stroud had news on his investigation, he would have told her already. Stroud seemed happy to drink his tea in silence, and didn’t push on for a conversation. It was comfortable, the day was done and they were taking a moment to relax. Some peace and quiet was a welcome part of that. Right up until she received a particularly nasty liver stomp that had her wince.

“Are you alright?” Stroud asked when he noticed her discomfort.   
“Yes,” she replied reassuringly, “the baby just kicks a lot. And he’s good at it.”   
“He?”   
“We don’t know, obviously, but I don’t like calling him ‘it.’”   
“That makes sense,” he replied with a nod.

“I always believed it was impossible for two Grey Wardens to have a child,” he said thoughtfully, “it’s remarkably good fortune that all seems to be progressing normally.” Fela shot him a look. It would have come up sooner or later, but that didn’t mean she looked forward to this conversation.

“As far as our healer can tell, we’re both healthy,” Fela said with a shrug, “I don’t know of any other Grey Wardens ever becoming pregnant, but Alistair and I are both relatively young Wardens, and we were actively trying. I don’t think most new Grey Wardens do that.”   
“We have no reference, true,” Stroud replied, “but that doesn’t make it any less fortunate.”

“You can stop talking around the Taint now,” Fela said gently, “the healer said that the baby shares my blood, so it logically follows he bears my Taint.” Stroud sighed and nodded.   
“I worry,” he admitted, “we don’t know how the Taint affects unborn children.”   
“I know,” she replied, “but as of yet, there is no reason to believe there is anything wrong with the baby. My pregnancy is progressing normally, and the baby is literally alive and kicking. I think we’re ok.”   
“There is something else,” Stroud said, “I fear Weisshaupt takes an interest.”   
“They do? Well, about time,” she said blandly.   
“Fela, too many peculiar things have occurred around you,” Stroud warned, “and they are already investigating you.”   
“I know,” Fela said, “they aren’t doing a very good job of staying unnoticed.” Stroud frowned.

“You knew?”   
“Well, two men from the Anderfells came to ask Arl Eamon vague questions about my behaviour before the battle of Denerim. Surprise, surprise, they turn out to be Grey Wardens,” Fela replied in a flat tone, “and they haven’t come to me directly so I suspect I’m not supposed to know.”   
“How did you find out they are Grey Wardens?” Stroud asked.   
“I have my resources,” Fela replied, “anyway, I expect that’s where my log went.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” he asked.   
“Because I was waiting to see what they would do next,” Fela said.   
“Were you testing me?”   
“No.”   
“Why send me orders to have the log copied?”   
“Because it was the most logical thing to do,” Fela said, “it’s a personal affect and you are my second.”

“Did you expect them to come for it?”   
“Once they knew it existed, yes, hence the copy.” Stroud squeezed the bridge of his nose.   
“You set it up for them didn’t you? Provided the information and the opportunity.”   
“Yes.”   
“What the _fuck,_ Fela!?”   
“Listen,” she shushed him, “it’s clear they don’t trust me and they are trying to figure out whether I am their enemy. That log is my personal account of the Fifth Blight, it will only confirm what I’ve been saying all this time. We had no clue what we were doing besides building an army and staying alive. We had to figure it out for ourselves and that log describes how we did that. If that’s not enough for them, it’ll at least keep them busy for a while. There are plenty of things in there they can verify with the people involved.”

Stroud frowned at her, trying to decide whether to be impressed or outraged.   
“Who else knows?” he asked.   
“You, me, Alistair, Zevran, Asher, and Eamon,” Fela replied.   
“The dog?” he arched an eyebrow.   
“Asher knows everything,” she replied as she petted her hound on his head affectionately.   
“Well, at least he won’t talk,” Stroud said wryly.   
“He would _never,”_ Fela said dramatically, covering Asher’s ears with her hands.

“I think I can safely assume your husband and your assassin friend can be trusted not to let anything slip, but the Arl…” he looked thoughtful, “you know him better than I do.”   
“It was his idea to control the information they find,” Fela said, “to make sure they draw the right conclusions, rather than the wrong ones.”   
“And that’s when you came up with the log,” he nodded.   
“He came to us because he was concerned,” Fela explained, “he may be a politician, but he’s a husband and father too. And he took in Alistair when he was a new born baby. We don’t need to worry about Eamon. If something is up, I’ll know.” Stroud frowned.   
“How can you be so certain?” Fela rolled her eyes at him playfully.   
“I trust the man, but I don’t trust him _blindly._ ”   
“I see,” Stroud replied coldly, “are you keeping an eye on everyone around here, or just those who are in a position to harm you?”

Fela turned serious at that.   
“What do _you_ think?” she asked rhetorically. Stroud didn’t answer.

“You didn’t think I consider myself untouchable, did you? That I am unaware of the target on my back? Something happened that the Grey Wardens can’t explain, and if it backfires, they need someone to burn,” she continued, “and from the looks of it, they are currently collecting wood for my pyre.”   
“You shouldn’t have to worry about another Grey Warden sticking a dagger in your back.”

“Oh but apparently I do,” Fela replied smoothly, “the treatment we received from your colleagues from Orlais, the treatment I’m receiving from Weisshaupt, the theft of one of my personal belongings from my office,” she held up a finger for each, starting with the middle one, “if you are offended that I might have reservations in how much I trust my people, including you, well, I’ll just have to consider that collateral damage, won’t I? But don’t you think for one minute that I have the luxury of not looking over my shoulder. Perhaps you do, but you are not me, are you? Or are there people out there, determined to justify demonising you, for simply doing your job? Some even seem to believe I shouldn’t have and the fact that I _did,_ warrants an unreasonable degree of mistrust. What do you expect me to do? Roll over?”

Her tone was casual, but the look in her eyes was more than a little dangerous. He’d stepped onto thin ice. The lack of support from the Order during the Blight was a sore point for her. That she was now under a magnifying glass had to sting, especially after the way she had been treated by their brothers and sisters across the borders. Orlais send only three Wardens so far. Weisshaupt send none, ignoring her letters more often than not.

“No,” he sighed, “if you did, it could be taken as a sign of weakness. You are Queen to the people of Ferelden and you serve your people first, not the Order.”   
“Correct,” she said crisply, “and the Order does not seem to like that. Instead of considering Alistair and me two valuable assets, they keep us at an arm’s length and treat us as if we are a hostile power.”   
“So you return the same courtesy,” he concluded, “to any other Grey Warden than your husband.”   
“My husband was the only Grey Warden I could count on during the Blight,” she pointed out, “and you may not treat us as a hostile power, Jean-Marc, but you do come from one. Don’t take it personal.”

He nodded slowly, her attitude towards them when they first arrived in Denerim made more sense now.

“I understand,” he said with a sigh, “but I need you to know that I am on _your_ side. I’m here to rebuilt the Ferelden Chapter.”   
“I know that,” she replied, more gently now, “that’s why you were never on my list of suspects.” He arched an eyebrow.   
“I would have been on mine.”   
“But I am not you,” she retorted, “what could you possibly gain from stealing that log after I commissioned a copy? You could just as easily have a second one made, you don’t need that original. Besides, you have access to both. Well… had, but that’s just because the original vanished.”

Stroud relaxed a little, satisfied that Fela did indeed trust him, at least to some degree. Unless she was playing him too, but that would mean putting her efforts towards rebuilding at risk. No, she wouldn’t do that. The fact that rebuilding was their common goal had been the reason they started to get along, she set aside her many, _many,_ misgivings in favour of that. Long before Weisshaupt had started taking an actual interest.

“Alright,” he sighed, “I’m glad we cleared that up. But in the future, I would ask you to include me. If only to inform me after the fact.”   
“I can’t promise you that,” she said honestly, “you do report our activities to Orlais, and I don’t want to put you in a position where you have to withhold information despite your orders.” She made a good point, trusting him with whatever she was playing at was one thing, but whether he reported it home was another.   
“You expect the Orlesian chapter to disapprove, and pull their Grey Wardens out,” he concluded. She nodded.

“Have you considered that they might not?” he asked.   
“How so?”   
“You and I aren’t the only ones who believe our Headquarters could be more invested in rebuilding here,” he said.   
“And yet there are only three of you here,” Fela pointed out.   
“I have been making headway in arranging for enough Wardens to man Vigil’s Keep. The darkspawn menace has been getting worse recently,” he replied.

Fela frowned, that particular problem had yet to be tackled.

“As soon as they’re able, I would welcome the reinforcements,” Fela replied, “but I’m afraid I won’t be going to Vigil’s Keep for a while yet.”   
“We have wiped out most of what still roamed the surface around Denerim on our raids,” Stroud replied, “the recruits are ready.”   
“I still have my doubts about that,” she replied, “skill-wise, yes, I believe they would do fine. But they still need leadership, especially Nate. We would be sending him home,” she looked at Stroud meaningfully. After todays antics, it should be clear that sending Nate home wasn’t a very bright idea.

“I meant, that I could go, in your stead. They don’t need me as much as they did before,” Stroud offered.   
“Hmm… we could do that,” Fela said thoughtfully, “but I worry the nobles would take it the wrong way. Not everybody has gotten over the war with Orlais yet.”   
“Well, it’s either me, or going up against the darkspawn by themselves,” Stroud shrugged, “and I will leave the politics to you.”

“Send word to Adamant Fortress,” Fela said with a nod after briefly thinking on it, “propose what we just discussed and see how soon they can get those Wardens out there. The Vigil is ready to house them, whenever, I have a good Steward.”

Stroud smiled.

“Will do Commander.”


	81. Big Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More on Fergus, who has his sister's back.

“Sister dearest,” came Fergus’ singsong-y voice from the door, “good news!”

“Yeah? What’s that?” she asked as Fergus opened the door slightly.   
“Is everyone decent? Can I come in?” he asked.   
“Yeah. You’re good,” she answered lazily. Fergus had walked in on Fela and Alistair one too many times, now he was extra careful.   
“Magnus is mooring in the harbour,” he said brightly, sticking his head around the door. His sister was lying on a sofa with a book resting on her stomach, dressed simply in leggings, a tunic, and one of the big fluttery robes she preferred. Asher was on her legs, an attempt at being a lapdog, though it didn’t quite fit.   
“Good,” she said with a smile, “have some tea with me?”   
“Gladly,” he replied and sent a servant to fetch tea.

Asher moved so Fela could pull up her legs, and Fergus plopped down in the newly available space.

“Where is Alistair?” he asked and looked around.   
“In a meeting with a few Lords from the Bannorn,” she replied with an uninterested gesture, “I skipped it, I’ll read the report later.”   
“Nice,” he replied with a smirk, “any other plans for today?”   
“Besides spending time with my uncle? Nope,” she replied and put her book away. Meaning she put it under the sofa she was on.   
“Good,” he answered, “there is a small tournament this afternoon, I was hoping we could go and watch.”   
“Sounds awesome, Magnus will love it,” she replied, “and he’ll probably want to participate,” she added with a smirk. Fergus frowned at that.   
“Maybe not such a good idea after all.”   
“No, no, it’s great!” she replied brightly, “they hold those things to entertain our soldiers, inspire competitiveness and such. Magnus is perfect for that sort of thing, the soldiers will love it as much as he will.”   
“Alright, but only because you make it sound so reasonable,” he replied.

They bantered back and forth while they waited for their uncle’s arrival in the Palace, who was more than just a little excited to go to a tournament.

“I think we can safely assume you’ll be entering the tournament?” Fela asked slyly. Magnus smiled.   
“You kids know me so well. We should bring the baby-daddy, folks will love the opportunity to show off for their King and Queen.”   
“He’s in a meeting now, but I doubt it’ll last until first bell,” Fela replied, “he’ll be back soon, he never skips lunch.”   
“Or any other meal for that matter,” Fergus added, “the man can _eat._ ”   
“Grey Wardens have bigger appetites,” Fela said with a shrug, “it’s quite normal, given what we put our bodies through.” Fergus and Magnus both made a face that said; ‘yeah, sounds about right.’

“If you want a bigger fire, you need more wood,” Magnus nodded.   
“Sort of, yes,” Fela answered.   
“Don’t you guys sit around a lot lately? I mean, a big part of your jobs is spend behind a desk,” Fergus asked. Fela arched an eyebrow at him.   
“And?” “Wouldn’t you need less food then? I mean, I’m way hungrier after a day of running around and fighting than a day of sitting behind a desk,” he explained.   
“We’re still Grey Wardens,” Fela said with a shrug, “you should have seen Alistair eat during the Blight.”   
“What about you?”   
“I’m a Lady, we don’t eat like hungry bears,” she said innocently.   
“Right,” Magnus rumbled, “like I haven’t seen you put away enough food to feed a whole family.”   
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied cheekily.

“Like hell you wouldn’t,” came Alistair’s voice from the door as he entered.

“You’re even more protective of your food than Asher is these days, and he once tried to bite my hand off for coming too close to his food.” Fela made a face.   
“Busted. Don’t touch my food,” she warned, “I’ll do more than just try to bite your hand off.”   
“Noted,” Magnus replied with a raised eyebrow, “is there a story behind this?”   
“Yes.” “No.” Fela and Alistair answered simultaneously, the denial, was of course, Fela’s. Alistair rolled his eyes.

“You smashed a man’s face into his plate not long ago for trying to take one of your fried potatoes.” Fergus chuckled.   
“That was you, wasn’t it?”   
“No!” Alistair exclaimed, “and that’s even worse!”

Fela looked between them defiantly.   
“He wants fried potatoes he can get his own.”   
“Who was it,” Fergus asked with a smirk.   
“Lord… Ebber… ebber-something, I don’t even know what he’s a Lord of,” she answered with a dismissive gesture, “you don’t take food off my plate. And it’s poor etiquette.”   
“Doesn’t warrant getting your face smashed into a bowl of hot soup, though,” Alistair chided.   
“How was I supposed to know it was hot?” she said defensively, “don’t touch my fucking food, how hard is it?”   
“Hmm… out of a sense of self-preservation, I’m going to agree with the _very_ pregnant woman,” Fergus quipped, “don’t touch her fucking food, not hard at all.” Magnus chuckled at that.   
“Wise choice.”   
“I am going to ignore the underlying statement,” she said sharply, “but only because it suits me right now.” Fergus held up his hands.   
“I am agreeing with you, and it’s not like you ripped out his tongue through his teeth.” She smirked a little self-consciously.   
“That was what I _wanted_ to do,” she admitted.   
“See?” Fergus turned to Alistair, “not so bad. In Orlais she would have been within full rights to stab him or something.”   
“We’re _not_ in Orlais though,” Alistair countered, “we don’t stab people for using the wrong spoon, or whatever.”   
“Should be common sense though, shouldn’t it? If it’s not on your plate, it’s not yours,” Magnus added.

The discussion went on like this for a while. First about ownership of food, then about fitting repercussions for the stealing of food, and finally the different situations and the applied set of rules concerning food ownership for each one.

At one point, Fergus threatened to flip the table as a means of settling the discussion. Which prompted Fela to threaten to kick Fergus in the throat if he damaged her coffee table. The conclusion of the discussion was that violence was, probably, not the answer. After that intelligent discussion, the four of them left for the tournament Magnus wanted to enter.

Fergus, Fela, and Alistair were happy to just watch. Their presence indeed spurned the participants on to give it their best, which resulted in a very successful tournament. The entire afternoon was a success, right up until they arrived back at the Palace.

“Oh fuck…” Fela sighed.   
“What?” Alistair asked. She gave him a meaningful look.   
“We have visitors,” she replied sourly. Alistair took the hint, she was sensing other Grey Wardens, and now that he listened for it, he did pick something up. Magnus and Fergus shared a look, each concluding on his own what they must be talking about.

“And here comes the runner,” she added, gesturing in the direction of a rapidly approaching boy who handed Fergus a note.   
“Actually, _I_ have visitors, not you,” he said with a raised eyebrow.   
“Oh, in that case,” Fela said lightly, “have fun, give them my best.”

Fergus frowned at the note, why would they want to talk to _him?_ He didn’t participate in fighting the Blight, he was in fact, presumed dead. Lost to the Korkari Wilds. Then again, the note didn’t say they were Grey Wardens, Fela did. But by now, he knew to trust his sister on finding and identifying any Tainted creature within a half-mile radius while she wasn’t even trying. He probably shouldn’t take her comment on giving them her best too seriously then. He could explain how she knew they were there, she was standing next to him when he was handed the note. But he wouldn’t be able to explain why she would be giving them her best since she wasn’t supposed to know who they were. She was probably just assuming they would ask after her, unless they were interested of an account of waking up delirious with fever and a broken leg in a Chasind hut.

“I’ll go find out what they want,” Fergus shrugged, “I don’t have much to tell them anyway.”   
“Besides to fuck off to the Black City you mean?” she sneered. It wasn’t directed at him, so Fergus took it in stride.   
“Dearest sister, where are your manners,” he chided playfully. Fela rolled her eyes.   
“ _S_ _o_ glad you remember yours, they’re your problem right now.”   
“Indeed,” he quipped, “I’ll take care of it Fae, leave it to your big brother.” She sighed and deflated a bit, giving him a fond smile.   
“Thank you. Come see us when you’re done?”   
“Naturally,” he replied, bowed dramatically, turned and took off with long strides.

Fela sighed and leaned into Alistair, who had slipped an arm around her shoulders.   
“Want to go check on Mitsy?” he asked.   
“You still got the goat?” Magnus asked with raised eyebrows.   
“She was never claimed,” Fela explained with an impish grin, “we have a whole herd now.” Magnus chuckled at that.   
“That should make the Mitsy Drinking Game interesting.”

* * *

Fergus swept into his salon with a flourish.

“Gentlemen,” he said in a welcoming tone, “how might I be of assistance?” He looked at two men, one sitting in one of the chairs near the hearth, and the other leaning against the wall beside it. The one sitting in the chair stood and bowed.   
“My Lord, thank you for seeing us on such short notice. My name is Eduard Lichteskind, and this is my colleague, Simon Lange. We hail from the Anderfells, where we are known as minstrels.”   
“Fergus Cousland,” he replied with a nod, “what brings you to Denerim?”   
“Why, your tale, of course,” Eduard replied dramatically, “heir to the second most powerful man in Ferelden, went to fight a war and was then lost to the Wilds!”   
“And now our hero has risen,” said the other one, “and has reclaimed his birth right after it had been taken from him through treachery.” Fergus smiled.   
“That does sound like a good story, doesn’t it? The kind a minstrel might tell.”

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Hell no. No way that was what they were there for. But Fergus played along, these guys were presumably after his sister. Meaning they entered the lion’s den by coming to see him, as far as Fergus was concerned. He would have gladly interrogated them harshly and probably wouldn’t have let them leave if he could spin it the right way. Go full on big brother watching out for his little sister and break their faces. But that wasn’t what Fela needed from him right now.

He needed to know what they wanted from her. To keep them talking, create a false sense of safety that would allow them to relax and slip up. So he pretended to be flattered, that the interest in his story stroked his ego, because that was what they expected to see. Maybe he could even bait them a little by pretending to be bitter about his sister’s success. He wasn’t, but Eduard and Simon didn’t know that. To them, he was just another Lordling born with a silver spoon up his ass.

“To be honest it’s not as exciting as you would think,” Fergus said as he moved to pour himself and his guests some wine.   
“I spend a lot of time sitting around with a broken leg,” he continued as he handed his guests their glasses, “I could tell you about the daily tasks of the average Chasind, but they are too peaceful to be interesting enough for a tavern crowd.”   
“Surely the events leading up to that broken leg are proportionately epic,” Eduard replied and lifted his glass to Fergus, “a hero’s tale should include struggle, no? One must burn before he can rise from the ashes.” Fergus frowned.   
“How about betrayal?”   
“Naturally,” Eduard replied, “your family was betrayed by your vassal, yes? A man named Rendon Howe?”   
“Well, I guess that’s where it starts then,” Fergus said and sat down, “but first things first, you write it down as I tell it, you don’t change details. We can embellish some, but I get the final say.”

“Yes, of course,” Eduard agreed, just a little to quickly for a minstrel who earned his bread with this sort of thing.   
“And you don’t share any of it before its finished, until then this stays between us. We wouldn’t want to ruin the story by spoiling it,” Fergus continued.   
“Of course,” Eduard said after a short pause. Now _that_ was something Fergus expected a minstrel to agree with immediately, but Eduard had hesitated.

Fergus knew full well that anything he said to these guys would likely be shared with Weisshaupt immediately, the lie came easily, but it was a lie nonetheless. Simon’s eyes flittering to Eduard and back to Fergus, attested to that. It would have been more convincing if Fergus believed these guys were actually minstrels. One look at their hands, and he knew they weren’t. Their callouses were the same as his, those of a swordsman. A minstrel would have calloused fingertips, these men did not. It was possible that neither played an instrument and that they went by stories, singing, and poetry alone, but it was unlikely.

A minstrel without music was like a bird without wings. Sure, some like legs, others like breasts, but everybody loves wings. And music was the chicken wing among the arts.

“When King Cailan summoned our armies to Ostagar,” Fergus began, “my father and I planned to march with Rendon Howe, the Arl of Amaranthine. We would meet at Highever and march south as a single force.” Simon had pulled out paper and a quill, and started penning down Fergus’ words.   
“You were joining your King in fighting the rising Blight, correct?” Eduard asked.   
“Yes,” Fergus nodded, “the King meant to meet the horde at Ostagar and defeat them there. But before we could set out, Howe’s forces were delayed. My father could hardly keep the King waiting in favour of Howe, and send me ahead with our armies while he remained with Howe at Highever until his forces could follow.”   
“And that left the castle unprotected,” Eduard prompted. Fergus nodded.

“Yes, I wasn’t aware of it until months later when I made it out of the Wilds, but the night after I marched, Howe attacked the castle.”   
“Would you have turned back if you had known?” Eduard asked curiously. Fergus leaned back in his chair to think that over for a moment.

“Yes,” he finally said, “I would have sent people to King Cailan with an explanation, but I would have turned the army back if it could have saved my family.”   
“Do you believe the King would have supported you in this decision?” Eduard continued, meanwhile Simon was penning away furiously.   
“I do. King Cailan had a great deal of respect for my father, Bryce Cousland, and my father had shown him great respect and loyalty in return. When King Maric disappeared, Cailan was still very young. The Landsmeet had asked my father to take the throne in Cailan’s place until he was old enough to rule. He declined. Insisting that Cailan be King and offering him guidance as an advisor instead,” Fergus explained, “Cailan wouldn’t have let anything happen to my family if he could do something about it, he would have come to our aid as soon as circumstances permitted it. But the fact of the matter is that neither me nor Cailan were aware of what had happened at Highever.”

“Tell us about the march,” Eduard encouraged.   
“It was just that,” Fergus replied, “a march. We made it south ahead of schedule and were spared any major setbacks, even the weather agreed.”   
“So you made it to Ostagar swiftly to stand beside your King,” Eduard concluded, “then what happened?”

“I was summoned to the war council, General Loghain Mac Tir needed someone to lead a scouting party into the Wilds to get a better estimate of the darkspawn numbers. And he suggested it should be me,” Fergus replied.   
“And you accepted.”   
“Yes, I took a few of my best scouts, and a few provided by General Loghain,” Fergus answered.

“If I might ask,” Eduard said thoughtfully, “weren’t there Grey Wardens stationed at Ostagar? Why not have them scout enemy territory?”   
“The General trusted the Grey Wardens about as far as he could throw them. He even opposed King Cailan on including Duncan, the Grey Warden Commander at the time, in the war council,” Fergus replied, “probably because King Cailan listened more to Duncan than to him. I think General Loghain believed that King Cailan was letting the Grey Wardens take advantage of him, he didn’t believe it was truly a Blight either. But Duncan did, and he resented the man for that, because King Cailan listened to him.”

“How would you describe King Cailan?”   
“Well…” Fergus said hesitantly, “if you had ever met him, you would probably think him naïve. He had a certain dreaminess about him that could easily be mistaken for youthful folly. But I don’t believe King Cailan was a fool. He might have trusted his General when he shouldn’t, but he had a safety net in place. Of course, I didn’t know about it then, I was lost to the Wilds by the time General Loghain betrayed King Cailan, but one of the younger Grey Wardens, was his half-brother, Alistair Theirin. And before the battle that would lead up to General Loghain betraying the King, he sent his half-brother, and my sister, on a different task that kept them off the battlefield. He did that, so if he fell, there would be someone to pick up where he left off. If he had not done that, there wouldn’t have been anybody left to fight the Blight that General Loghain did not believe in.”

“A Cousland to keep a Theirin on the throne,” Eduard nodded.   
“As it would turn out, yes,” Fergus confirmed, “I’m not sure he expected it to happen quite like it did, but he secured his line and legacy. King Alistair has done right by his people, he stopped the Blight and we are rebuilding faster than most of us thought possible.”   
“You admire him for that,” Eduard observed.   
“King Alistair? Why wouldn’t I?”   
“And King Cailan too,” Eduard nodded, “that shows loyalty, very heroic trait,” he added with a wink.

Fergus smiled pleasantly.

_Sure, let’s call it that._

It was a free bit of information, he was loyal to his King. To set them on edge, he had been doing most of the talking, now it was their turn.

“Tell me, which traits were you planning to attribute to my role in this story?” he asked. Meaning, what did they expect from him.   
“A hero is born out of tragedy,” Eduard started, “you suffer losses, setbacks, your whole world crumbles. In your case, this starts when you, the hero, set out to fight the Blight alongside your King. A brave and wise King, worthy of a hero’s respect. When given a mission, you fall, and you are gravely injured, unable to return to your allies. While you are fighting for your life, your King is betrayed, and he dies on the battlefield. A usurper takes over, and has allowed the Blight to spread. Meanwhile you are stuck in a Chasind hut, maybe with a wild beauty to keep you company, maybe without. Without your knowledge your world has crumbled away, you can only focus on survival, regaining your strength.” Fergus arched an eyebrow while Eduard spoke, he made it sound quite convincing.

“Once our hero emerges from the Wilds, he finds an abandoned battlefield. Maybe he recognises some of the fallen, maybe he doesn’t, he searches a dead wasteland for any clue, and finds nothing,” Eduard had started aiding his words with dramatic hand gestures now, “the lost hero then decides to return home, and he is shattered by what he finds. He swears to avenge his family, and to right the wrongs that were caused by a traitor!”   
“And that’s where is basically stops,” Fergus interrupted, “because my sister had already done all those things.”

Eduard and Simon both looked up at him expectantly, Fergus smiled inwardly, they were trying to decide if there was a resentful undertone or not. What they decided didn’t matter, he had their attention.   
“It’s what happened,” he said unapologetically, “I discovered that Highever had been sacked, that a traitor had taken my father’s position after he murdered my entire family, save for my sister, and that she had already disembowelled him for it. On top of that, she had put the King’s brother on the throne after dethroning the other traitor in this story, and went on to stop the Blight, the universal threat to us all, and she even got to marry the prince and live happily ever after.” He looked at the other two men blandly.

“Well? Aren’t you going to write that down?”   
“Could you… elaborate?” Eduard asked hesitantly.   
“Specifically?”   
“Your sister’s part in the story,” he clarified. Fergus let out a chuckle and smiled bitterly.   
“Well, _I_ wasn’t there for it. But apparently she cut her bloody way through Ferelden to gather an army while charming a prince.”

When nothing more was forthcoming, Simon started to write something, but the hesitation in his movements betrayed him. It was nothing more than an escape of Fergus’ best ‘noble-bred outrage’ glare. He was baiting them, suggesting that he might be open to sharing some dirt on his sister but making Eduard and Simon both extremely uncomfortable for not focussing on Fergus himself.

It would be too risky for them to suggest he was living in his sister’s shadow, that would hurt his noble ego. They came here to stroke it, so they’d have to switch tactics halfway in. But he made them promise to write the tale down as he told it, so now they were suck between doing what he told them, which they knew wasn’t what he wanted, or not doing as he told them, which could cost them this promising source. So they had no choice but to avoid that choice, and take a side route.

“Why don’t you tell us about your journey home?” Eduard finally suggested. Fergus leaned back in his chair to pretend to think it over.   
“I had to fight my way through a warzone,” he said after an uncomfortably long silence, “darkspawn, bandits, ghouls, it was quite a journey.”   
“Ah, tell us about those,” Eduard encouraged. And Fergus smiled.

He was going to keep them _very_ busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you're up to date now. The constant stream of chapters is going to slow down. I am going to continue writing, but I don't want to make any false promises on when I upload anything. On the other hand, I spend nearly every free minute I have on this crap. You'll be hearing from me.


	82. Unpleasant Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate reflects on his behaviour, and Fela has an unpleasant surprise waiting for her.

As predicted, Nate showed up massively hung over for drills.

His head was pounding, his throat felt rough as sandpaper, and he had a taste like dead mice in his mouth. He felt vaguely nauseated, and weak. Like a wet ragdoll.

The other recruits pretended not to notice Nate’s miserable state, mostly because Fela had told them to. But Stroud chewed him out thoroughly for his behaviour. After all, he’d disappeared, gotten monkey balls drunk, and the Commander had dragged his sorry ass back to the compound. All pregnant and everything. 

He remembered. Every admission and every word.

He didn’t have time to contemplate it though, Stroud was making him sweat out his hangover with a _shitload_ of exercises he had Nate perform. Nate sucked it up. Obviously, this kind of behaviour couldn’t be tolerated, he actually felt he got off easy. After a monstrous work-out, he was sent off to clean himself up. And that seemed to be it.

Fine by Nate, he wasn’t complaining.

His little escapade had led to an actual conversation with the Commander though, and he had learned a few interesting things. Not the least of which, was that he reminded the Commander of something she’d apparently rather forget. She was conflicted, in a way. And for some reason Nate could not fathom, knowing that seemed to have eased his mind somewhat.

She still wasn’t sorry, he knew that, and he didn’t really care if she was. But she didn’t seem to take any pride in what she did, and that mattered a great deal.

Apart from that, he felt incredibly stupid. He’d messed shit up, _again,_ and made a right ass out of himself. He was still missing a shoe, he smelled like cheap booze, and looked like he had been through a wrangler. That the other recruits had the decency to pretend there was nothing out of the ordinary didn’t mean they were unaware of just how smashed Nate had been the night before.

He was, quite frankly, embarrassed. But he held his head high, marched to the bathhouse to spend some time alone and away from everybody else, to mend his wounded pride.

The Commander hadn’t revisited the subject, instead treating him as if nothing had never happened. She kept her distance, but no more than she had always done.

Now Nate was watching her go through some basic moves with Juno. It looked weird, to see a pregnant woman instruct someone on throwing a punch. Then again, it wasn’t like Fela to let herself be slowed down. From what he understood, she had sparred regularly with the other recruits before leaving to tour the country. Right after conscripting Nate. Then she came back, and she turned out to be six months pregnant. So, obviously she put off the sparring for a while. She’d be an idiot not to.

But Fela was no idiot, just a little weird. There’d be a tiny version of that in a couple of months, Nate wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. He rolled his eyes at himself, what was the worst that could happen?

After his meltdown, he actually felt a little more comfortable in her presence. It wasn’t that she reassured him that he’d been given a clean slate. It was her willingness to see to it that he actually got it. He had not really given her a chance to show that before. He was too caught up in projecting everything that was wrong with his life on her.

Then, he got drunk. And she’d come to fish him out of the gutter. He had given up on coming up with reasons why Fela went through all the trouble of conscripting him. And had accepted what she had told him; that she wanted to wipe the slate clean. She had _planned_ for it.

It made sense, she created a base of recruits, and when it was time to add him to the mix she had left the city. It had given him time to settle in, it probably would have been harder to do that if she’d been around. She even went so far as to insure his colleagues knew beforehand that he had nothing to do with the things his father did.

She didn’t plan on him being an ass to Daena and getting drunk on self-pity. That was all him, she had given him every opportunity to settle in and forget about the past and he had messed it up on his own. Granted, he didn’t know. But he wouldn’t have believed her anyway if she had told him.

Drunk Nate, wasn’t as confrontational as sober Nate though. Drunk Nate also had little regard for social customs and spoke his mind. She had answered some questions, and he had found some answers on his own.

Moving on didn’t seem like such a bad thing anymore.

“How’s the hangover doing?” came Dan’s voice from behind, startling Nate out of his thoughts.   
“It’s been two days,” Nate said with a frown.   
“You were drunk enough to have a hangover for a week,” Dan replied, “didn’t know you could party that hard.” Nate chuckled at that, catching himself at it when he noticed Dan’s smirk.

“Loosened you up, didn’t it,” Dan observed.  
“Perhaps,” Nate replied thoughtfully.   
“So which one are you ogling?” Dan asked and nodded in Fela and Juno’s direction. Nate gave him a sideways look.  
“Neither, I’m observing,” he replied.   
“Of course you are! So am I,” Dan said warmly and leaned back against a wall. Nate rolled his eyes.

“How much do you remember,” Dan asked.   
“From being drunk?” Nate asked, “pretty much all of it. Thanks for uh, steering me to the correct room.”  
“No problem,” Dan said brightly, “but next time you go on a tavern dive, I want in. I don’t know _what_ you were drinking, but you were _shit-faced._ ” Nate laughed.  
“I don’t recommend it, it wasn’t that it was good, it was just cheap,” he replied.   
“Say no more,” Dan replied, “we’ll pick a better place.”

“Pay is pretty decent,” Nate said agreeingly.  
“I think the pay is pretty great,” Dan replied, “never made this much money on any legal job I’ve ever had, and we get room and board too.”   
“You’ve had other jobs?” Nate asked.

“Nothing special,” Dan said, “cleaning dishes, shovelling out stables, sweeping floors. I took what I could get.” He gestured at his ears, and Nate slowly nodded.   
“What about the illegal jobs?” Nate asked, hoping to switch topics. He knew he had been successful when he saw Dan’s grin.

“Oh, you know, gold is heavy. Sometimes it helps to relieve some of it,” he said slyly.  
“Are we talking pickpocket, burglar, bandit?”  
“Pickpocket and cat burglar,” Dan said with a bow, “it’s what got me recruited.”  
“And was the pay any good?” Nate inquired.  
“Depended on the target, and how hot the item would be,” Dan replied.

“How hot?” Nate asked.  
“Yeah, if you steal a unique necklace for example, the owner could be looking for it on the black market since it’s easily identified. More than one thief I knew have walked into a trap that way. And if it’s a ‘hot’ item, you’ll have a hard time selling it, and people take advantage of that.” Dan answered.   
“What kind of targets did you pick?”  
“Nobles and rich folk mostly,” Dan said with a lop-sided grin, “if I had seen you in the street I probably would have cut your purse.”  
“Any particularly hot items?”  
“No, I don’t like to stand out,” Dan said while shaking his head, “thieves who stand out get targets on their backs.”  
“Makes sense.”  
“But to answer your question, burglary; not a bad payday, but it’s unsteady work and high risk. Same for pickpocketing. But at least you have a _lot_ of potential targets when you’re looking to pick some pockets. You never know how much they actually carry though. It’s not exactly steady money.”

“Did you ever get caught?” Nate asked.   
“Oh sure, I had to start somewhere. The Commander caught me doing it, that’s why she conscripted me,” Dan replied with a shrug.   
“Useful skills huh,” Nate replied, “she said the same thing to me.”  
“Well, from what I’ve seen your skill in archery exceeds any of ours,” Dan said.   
“Did she call the guards on you?”  
“Nope, just grinned and continued her conversation.”

“Hmm,” Nate replied thoughtfully.  
“Not what you expected?”  
“Not really…” he said, “but I’m not sure what I expected anyway.”  
“She’s a good sort you know,” Dan said, “I know she killed your father and all, but she’s not a bad person.”

“I know,” Nate said quietly, “I’ve known her for a bit longer than you have.”  
“But you weren’t exactly friends, were you?”  
“No, but we were kids, things were different,” Nate replied, “I don’t hold some old grudge against her if that’s what you’re thinking.”  
“So what’s your problem with her, besides the murder of your father?” Dan asked.

Nate thought about that for a moment. She creeped him out a little, but that was nothing new. If she treated him harshly, it was because he provoked her himself. In general, she was treating him pretty well. Considering she conscripted him out of her own dungeon after he came to kill her, that is. She certainly could have made his life harder, it would have been easy for her.

“She…” Nate began, and paused looking for words, “it’s complicated.” Dan rolled his eyes at him.   
“Obviously,” the elf replied and gave Nate a pointed look.   
“Ok look, even if I forgave her for gutting and torturing my father, we never got along. I could barely stand her by the time I was send abroad. That’s where we left it at, and then she went on to murder my father. It’s awkward,” Nate explained.

“Sounds to me like a little boy with a crush,” Dan teased.

Nate flushed a bright red at that.  
“No, actually,” Nate replied, “she was just an asshole as a kid.”  
“Right,” Dan said knowingly, “and you were a perfect angel, weren’t you?”  
“Forget it,” Nate said.  
“No, it’s alright,” Dan said soothingly, “I can see her appeal, you’d have to be blind to miss it.”

“You’re gushing over a pregnant woman,” Nate pointed out dryly.  
“And?”  
“Never mind,” he sighed.

“So what was she like as a kid?” Dan asked, nodding in Fela’s direction.   
“She was quiet,” Nate replied, “didn’t talk much…”  
“And when she did?” Dan pressed.   
“When she did talk, she was a little weird. Didn’t speak like other kids,” Nate replied.  
“What do you mean?”  
“She had a way of getting under your skin,” Nate replied, “like she could guess your thoughts. She still does I suppose.”

“I can see how a little boy with a crush would be uncomfortable around such a girl,” Dan quipped.

“Ass,” Nate groused.   
“I’m joking,” Dan replied, “lighten up.” He straightened and smacked Nate on his shoulder.

“It’s about lunch time,” he said, “you coming?”  
“Yeah, alright…”

* * *

Fela sat in her office, leaned back in her chair and her feet on her desk.

Teagan sat across from her, giving her an update on his investigation. He’d listed everyone who had been on duty in between Stroud sending the log back to her office and their arrival back in Denerim. It was quite the list, but at least it narrowed down the portion of their staff they needed to question. Teagan had already gotten started on that. After that, she received the captain of the guard and her new spymaster to evaluate new security protocols.

So far it didn’t seem necessary to start changing all the locks. Zevran suspected the log was never taken from Fela’s office, it probably disappeared while on its way there. Security was much tighter in the royal wing than say, the short walk from the compound to the palace. But the question of where exactly it had been taken from, remained.

Teagan would eventually find whoever was supposed to bring it back. And if he didn’t, Zevran would. The runner that Stroud had used to send for one of the servants in the royal wing had disappeared. It was unclear whether that meant that the runner was dead, hiding, or something else.

In the meantime, Fela played her part. Meaning she was quite occupied with evaluating their security. It was tedious work, but it had to be done. And once she had a baby to look after she would be glad that she had done it.

In between playing detective, participating in training her new recruits, and holding court as Queen of Ferelden, she was kept quite busy. Now she was mulling things over in her head.

They needed to find that runner, so far it was unclear whether he ever made it to the palace to call a servant. Teagan might be looking in the wrong place because of that. So now, she was basically waiting for her spymaster to send word he had been found.

If she was going to be waiting anyway, she didn’t need to be sitting in her office, so she went out for a stroll.

Asher loved the palace gardens. And she happily watched him run around just for the fun of it. She smiled, he made her want to run too. She didn’t, of course, she was starting to get pretty big. Running would be a bad idea. She made due with taking a walk. Walking was fine.

Asher stopped dead in his tracks.

Fela tensed, he wouldn’t do that unless he had good reason. She didn’t pick up on any Grey Wardens that didn’t belong, that meant it had to be someone else. She drew her rapiers when Asher started to growl, going over a list of enemies in her head. The gardens seemed empty but for Fela and Asher, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anybody else there.

She looked around, straining to hear any movement. She had no way of knowing who, or how many Asher was responding to. Just that he picked up on a threat.

“Zevran,” she whispered.   
“I got you querida,” he whispered back, “I’m right here.”

She rolled her shoulders and took her stance. Whatever asshole thought it was a good idea to sneak up on her was going to regret it. She let outrage take over, it worked better than fear.

“Come out,” she called, “I know you’re there.”

A rustling of the bushes on her left side. She took a step back, and whistled.

Asher sprung into motion, recognising the signal to maul whoever was in that bush and drag them out. Not having to worry about that target, she was able to block and counter another that leapt down from a tree. She didn’t bother looking at her opponent, slicing him open from his bellybutton to his throat. The clanging of steel told her Zevran was fighting another, she spun to see him punch the other man in the throat and sticking his dagger between his ribs. Asher tore the third apart while Fela dismembered a fourth that had followed his colleague down from the tree.

She had cut off one of his hands and slammed a rapier into his throat to shut him up. She rolled to evade a dagger aimed at her kidney, going down in a low crouch to protect her stomach. She didn’t stay that way for long, lashing out with such force that her opponent’s block failed entirely. She hacked away at him without bothering to be efficient.

“Sneaky,” hack, “mother-” slash, “ _fucker!_ ” kick, and stab.

She snarled viciously when she flew at the sixth and last enemy. She saw red, brutally slaughtering whoever was stupid enough to come near her. Or slow enough to get away.

She kept hacking at the corpse after it stopped moving, making a right mess of it until Zevran stopped her.

“Alright,” Zevran said soothingly as he gently put his hands on her shoulder, “he is _very_ dead now.”  
Fela briefly glared at him, but seized her efforts at hacking her target to literal pieces.   
“How the _hell_ did six guys get in here without anybody noticing!?” she barked at nobody in particular.  
“Good question,” Zevran replied and started examining one of the more ‘intact’ bodies.

Meanwhile Fela kicked at the nearest one and send Asher to get Alistair. Zevran had seen Fela angry, he had watched her disembowel Rendon Howe, but the state she was in now was of a whole different level. She was attacked, in her own home, while pregnant.

Fela stalked around the corpses like an angry bear while Zevran worked. He could _actually_ feel it in the air. Fela was radiating a kind of rage that kind of made him want to hide, and he actually knew it wasn’t aimed at him. But there wasn’t much left of the original targets, the way she had hacked and slashed away at them was nothing like her. He had seen her work, she was efficient and precise. What he was looking at now, was butchery, sloppy butchery. No less deadly though.

Alistair stormed into the gardens, making a beeline for his wife and checking her for injuries while the guards that followed him struggled to keep up.

“Are you ok?” he asked pulling her towards him and looking at her closely. She was covered in blood, but none of it appeared to be her own.  
“Like _fuck_ I am!” she hissed and gestured around her, “six armed men snuck into our palace, _six!_ ”  
“Are you wounded?”  
“No.”  
“And the baby?”  
“Kicked like crazy but fine,” she said a little more gently.  
“He’s still kicking,” Alistair replied as he put a hand on Fela’s stomach.  
“That’s because he’s as pissed off as I am,” she groused.  
“No kidding,” Alistair replied as he glanced around at the bodies strewn about, “what did you _do_ to them?”  
“The obvious,” she replied dismissively and turned to Zevran, “find anything?”

“You are not going to like this querida,” he said and gestured for her to come take a look. Alistair followed as she approached to see what Zevran was talking about.   
“They all have the same brand,” Zevran said and showed her what he meant. A symbol seared into the skin of one of the lesser carved up victims.   
“Crows?” she asked with a scowl.   
“Most likely,” he replied.

Fela spat a string of curses and kicked at a corpse a few more times.

“Bring me Ignacio! _Right_ _fucking now!_ ” she barked at the guards and turned to Alistair, “you’d better get some steel on you, we don’t know if this is a new contract, or the old one.”  
“Loghain is dead, how could it be the old one?” Alistair asked with a frown.  
“His _heir_ isn’t,” Fela snapped.   
“I didn’t know assassination contracts could be inherited,” he replied.   
“Unfortunately they can,” Zevran replied, “and if it _is_ the old contract, your recruits are fair game.”  
“Goddamnit! _Fuck!_ Let’s go, I need to get to the compound,” Fela said decisively and marched back into the palace.

Zevran and Alistair followed without protest, they had both seen her eyes. They were that dangerous shade of black that she got when she went her version of berserk. She’d let the devil out to play.

* * *

Stroud jumped when Fela marched into his office, covered in blood and looking like an angry dragon.

“ _Andraste’s_ _mercy_ , Fela, what happened to you!?” he asked and rounded his desk to take a closer look at her. She shrugged him off.  
“Gather everyone in the common room, Fabliaux and Germain too,” she commanded.  
“Why? What happened?” he urged.  
“Now, Stroud, I’ll answer your questions when we have every Warden in one place.”

He blinked a few times before he did as she asked, and took off to round everybody up. Meanwhile Fela marched to the common room with Alistair and Zevran in tow. Daena was already there when she stepped in.

“ _Holy_ _shit_ , Fela!” she gasped and got up to examine her Commander.   
“I’m fine, this isn’t mine,” she said soothingly.  
“What happened?”  
“Crows,” she said bluntly, “could be a new contract, but it might be the old one. And that one applies to every Grey Warden in Ferelden.”  
“Damn.”  
“Yeah, we’re rounding everybody up. I need to make sure everybody is safe before I go get some answers,” Fela replied darkly.

“What’s your plan?” Alistair asked.   
“I’m going to see what Ignacio has to say first, after I get things in order here,” Fela replied.   
“You’re not going on a rampage are you?” he said slowly, “because you look like you’re about to go on a rampage.”  
“Another rampage,” Zevran corrected, “remember those first six crows.”  
“You are allowed to come along if it makes you feel any better,” she growled.

“What are we going on a rampage for?” Juno asked as she stepped into the common room, followed by Rory, Dan, and Nate.   
“Crows coming into my house and drawing steel on me,” Fela replied and turned to look at her recruits.

“I just explained it to Daena, during the Blight Loghain put out a contract on any remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Loghain is dead, but his daughter isn’t. It could be a new contract, but I need to talk to someone first to be sure,” Fela added when her recruits gave her funny looks. 

“So we might all be targeted,” Nate said with a frown.   
“Exactly,” Fela affirmed.  
“What’s the plan?” he asked.  
“I’ll get to that when the senior Wardens are here,” she answered, “there is no need for panic yet.”

“Are you sure?” Rory asked, “you’re looking a little… bloody…”  
“And the gracious donors are long dead,” Fela replied dryly.   
“How many?”  
“Six.”  
“And you’re still standing,” Rory nodded, “and hopping mad, good.”

“What about that mini-you you’re making,” Dan asked, “good too?”  
“And hopping mad, yes,” Fela replied.

“Perfect, would you like your crows burned, electrocuted, or frozen?” Juno asked.   
“None, you guys are not going anywhere,” Fela answered, “crows are a lot more capable than darkspawn.”   
“And you’ll be going after them,” she said with a frown.  
“It’s not up for discussion, Juno, I need to figure out a few things first,” Fela replied and crossed her arms.

Luckily, Stroud, Fabliaux, and Germain walked in shortly after that discussion.

“There you are, let me explain first,” Fela said and repeated what she had already told the junior Wardens. They agreed to wait until Fela spoke to Master Ignacio and go on lockdown until they had more information. Juno and Daena in particular seemed more than a little eager to go kill themselves some crows, but Fela ignored their protests. She wanted her Wardens in one place, not running around the city where she couldn’t find them. Well… she could, but she’d rather not do anything that might lead the Orlesian Wardens to any conclusions she didn’t want them to draw. Besides, _they_ wouldn’t be able to find any rampaging Wardens in the city.

Eamon was beside himself with worry when they returned to the Palace, he’d been informed about the attack but didn’t know where they had gone after that. Fela let Alistair take care of that, she was more than a little worked up and her temper flared too easily. She might end up crushing the Arl’s soul or something.

Ignacio was waiting for her in her office. He had gone along willingly when the Palace guards came knocking, and looked infuriatingly calm when Fela slammed the door open.

“ _You!_ Have come explaining to do!” she snapped and marched up to Ignacio to loom over him.   
“I take it you have met some members of a competing cell,” he said easily.   
“ _Six crows,_ in my garden, in broad _daylight!_ ” she hissed.  
“Did you get a look at their brand?”  
“Yes.”  
“Could you draw it for me?”

Fela rounded her desk to yank open a drawer and find a piece of paper. She drew the brand Zevran had shown her and shoved it at Master Ignacio, who took it with a polite nod and looked it over.

“The crows that attacked you belong to Master Clemente’s cell,” Master Ignacio said calmly, as if he was discussing the weather.   
“Friend of yours?” Fela bit back.  
“No, a rival at best,” Master Ignacio replied.  
“I need to know what contract he is acting on, are there any new ones besides the one you put on hold for me?” she asked venomously.  
“No.”

Fela slammed both her fists into her desk, rattling everything that was on it.

“You said you would make sure no bid on that contract would be accepted!” she snarled.  
“And I did,” Master Ignacio replied, “but when the client’s heir offered to double the price, it was out of my hands.”   
“ _That little bitch!_ ” Fela growled, “how long have you known?”  
“I was not informed until this morning,” Master Ignacio replied.   
“ _Liar_ ,” she hissed and fixed her gaze on his, “you’re playing games,” she whispered, “I would be fine with that, were it not that you got me involved, _while I’m bloody pregnant!_ ”

Finally, Master Ignacio’s face showed some emotion. He was taken aback by Fela’s presence, uncertain on how to deal with this very angry woman that pierced straight through his lie.

“We never discussed this particular turn of events-” he began.  
“It’s common decency, _you bald prick,_ to warn people when you know assassins are coming after them!” Fela roared and flung an empty inkbottle into the hearth.  
“I apologise, from a professional standpoint, I could not interfere. I would be actively sabotaging a colleague if I did that,” Master Ignacio said curtly, regaining some of his composure.

“And what do you call identifying Master Clemente’s brand for me?” Fela challenged.   
“Self-preservation.”   
“Good,” she growled, “now, in the spirit of self-preservation, you are going to tell me where to find Clemente. Then you are going to send word out to every colleague, that there is no longer an heir to double the fee on that contract. If any of my Wardens are attacked, I will wipe out the entire cell and it’s Master.”  
“It is my understanding, that Lady Anora yet lives,” Master Ignacio said with raised eyebrows.  
“What do you think is going to happen now that you told me she offered to double the fee?” Fela said blandly.

“From now on, Ferelden Grey Wardens are off limits. Your existing contract is void and you will not be accepting any new contracts on them either,” she leaned forward a bit to glare at him, “and if anyone ever tries to put out a new contract on any Ferelden Grey Warden, you tell me as soon as you find out.”

“Now, I’m guessing you would like me to take out Master Clemente so you can take his territory,” she continued, “but I’m not doing that without something in return.”  
“What do you propose?”  
“We make a formal alliance, I let you conduct your business and you give me information or assistance when I come to call,” Fela said, “in return, you may take Clemente’s territory. Since it is in my interest this territory remains yours, I might provide assistance to keep it that way, so long as it _continues_ to serve my interest.”  
“An interesting offer,” Master Ignacio said slowly, “am I making this alliance with the Queen of Ferelden, or the Commander of the Grey?”   
“Pick one,” she said curtly.

Ignacio smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you but I was starved for some action. Hard to do with a pregnant character without making her do stupid stuff. Ok, she still kinda does a bunch of stupid stuff but at least it's somewhat justified.


	83. On The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela and Alistair isolate themselves in the palace while Zevran and Fergus head to Dragon's Peak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, you'd think this whole corona business would free up more time to write. Stay safe and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.

Alistair had gone to interrogate Anora as soon as he heard she supposedly offered to double the fee on her father’s contract with the Crows.

Meanwhile the spymaster searched her rooms. But it was no use, Anora would have destroyed any correspondences, the hard proof Alistair was hoping for, simply wasn’t there. They only had Master Ignacio’s word. Nevertheless, the Crow they needed to deal with had been identified.

It took a lot of time and a lot of arguing to convince Fela to let Zevran and Fergus handle it. In the end she relented, she was in a vulnerable position, a nick from a poisoned blade might kill her or the baby. Crows were assassins, so of course they used poison, and Fela agreed to stay behind.

Don’t take a baby to a fight, simple as that. 

As King, Alistair had to stay behind as well. Clemente was apparently held up in Dragon’s Peak, and going after him would mean leaving Denerim. He wouldn’t be able to do that without an entire entourage coming along, and that would just cost precious time.

Neither liked having to send Zevran and Fergus in their stead, but it made more sense than taking a staggering amount of unnecessary risk. So, the monarchs stayed put, and Zevran and Fergus left the city under the cover of darkness.

“So, is this weird for you?” Fergus asked, “going after colleagues.”  
“Not really, we get ordered to kill each other all the time,” Zevran replied, “besides, I’m not a Crow anymore. What about you? Ever been send out to kill a man before?”  
“Not quite like this, no,” Fergus replied.   
“Does it bother you?”  
“To go murder a man who send six assassins after my very pregnant sister and will send more if he isn’t stopped? No, not at all.”  
“Good,” Zevran replied, “because he won’t hesitate to kill you if he thinks that benefits him most, I suggest you beat him to it.”

The plan was simple, go to Dragon’s Peak, find Clemente, and take him out. Dragon’s Peak wasn’t very far from Denerim, the whole thing shouldn’t take more than four days. In the meantime, Fela and Alistair would have to resist taking action instead of retreating. Fergus wasn’t sure if his sister was going to manage that for four days, but at least she seemed to listen to Alistair. Sort of.

While Fela agreed to stay at the Palace, and begrudgingly accepted the extra guards, she wasn’t one to stay idle. She was probably going to spend one day pacing, then one climbing the walls, and the other two looking for people to kill. People who deserved it, like more Crows coming after her or Anora.

Fergus sighed. He had rarely seen his sister this angry, but he understood why. She was about to bring new life into the world, instincts kicked in, any threat would be dealt with quickly and harshly. Oriana had been the same. Though she never got attacked by six crows in her own home.

“Let me ask you something,” Fergus said and looked at Zevran.   
“Ooh, interesting, go ahead,” Zevran said.   
“How did you ever get away with trying to kill Fela?” Fergus asked.   
“Well, she wasn’t pregnant for one, I do believe that makes a big difference,” Zevran replied.   
“Probably, but my sister was never one to let an assassination attempt slide,” Fergus answered, “I would have expected her to cut your throat.”  
“I’m pretty sure she wanted to,” Zevran said thoughtfully, “I don’t know… maybe it was because she needed allies.”  
“Whose idea was it to have you join her group?” Fergus asked.   
“Well, mine,” Zevran said, “I think I was just lucky she let me talk.”   
“Must have been something that peaked her interest,” Fergus mused, “what did you say to her?”  
“I saved her the trouble of interrogating me by giving her the answers straight away,” Zevran replied, “maybe she figured she could get more out of me, I have many talents.” He added that last bit with a suggestive look.   
“Right, that must have been it,” Fergus said dismissively. Zevran’s suggestive look turned into a pout.   
“You are just as impossible to flirt with as your sister,” Zevran groused.   
“Don’t take it personal buddy,” Fergus said easily.

They rode throughout the night. Zevran noticed Fergus was a lot like his sister. They looked alike, sure. But they also shared many of the same mannerisms, the same gestures, the same facial expressions. He’d noticed it before, but spending hours on the road together seemed to bring it out. Fergus was curious and kept asking Zevran questions to get to know him better. Fela had done the same thing during the Blight. It made him wonder whether she got it from him or if it was just how they were raised.

“Fela tells me she was a little awkward as a kid,” Zevran said slowly, watching for Fergus’ response from the corner of his eye.  
“In a way, I suppose,” Fergus said, “she’s always had a way of seeing through you. And well… kids can be cruel.”  
“What do you mean?” Zevran asked.   
“Children don’t have full control over their emotions and inhibitions, and when there’s this one kid that gets under your skin, accidentally or on purpose, you lash out. And really, most adults are no better,” Fergus explained, “she was always a loner. So I took her under my wing, you know. I am her big brother so that’s my job. And well, I was just a kid too. I wasn’t going to practice needlework with her, I like hitting stuff. And I guess that set her apart even more, because it turned out she likes hitting stuff too. And then she was attacked, and the night terrors started. Sleep deprivation, depression, anxiety…”  
“Hmm,” Zevran replied with a nod, “those make it difficult to have a social life, no?”  
“Yes, add that she’s a lot more sensitive to how people respond to her, and you’ve got Fela. She got better, and she did make friends on her own, just not among what would be considered her peers, the nobility. Her friendship with Wild Cat for example, was considered more than a little unseemly. And if she made a friend among the nobility, it was often with men.”  
“Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of gossip comes from that,” Zevran replied, “and she was probably aware of it.”  
“Exactly.”

“Can’t have been easy for her,” Zevran sighed, “not giving a shit about what people think of you only goes so far. Especially in an insecure teenager.”  
“She adapted,” Fergus replied, “it didn’t take her too long to figure out that having friends like Habren Bryland wouldn’t make her happy, so she focussed her attention elsewhere.”  
“So that tendency to make friends in strange places,” Zevran mused, “it has deep roots, doesn’t it.”  
“Yeah,” Fergus answered, “it’s just who she is.”

“Who she is, turned out to save this country from a Blight,” Zevran said with a sideways look, Fergus chuckled.   
“Yeah, leave it to Fela to gather people crazy enough to accept _that_ challenge.”  
“Well, you would only find people like that in strange places, it takes a strange sort of person,” Zevran replied with a shrug.   
“Is there anybody you can think of, who could have pulled off what Fela did?” Fergus countered.   
“Absolutely not,” Zevran replied brightly, “my point is, that she is something rare and precious.”

“Are we going to get weird?” Fergus asked after a brief silence, “because it feels like we’re going to get weird.”  
“What? Why?” Zevran asked with raised eyebrows.  
“You are protective of her, you admire her, you make no secret of the fact you think she is attractive,” Fergus summed up, “you volunteered to be her personal bodyguard, and now you are on the road in the middle of the night with her brother to kill a man that tried to have her killed.” He let that sink in for a moment.

“I’m her brother, what’s your excuse?” he finally asked. Zevran gave Fergus a bland look.  
“She’s my best friend,” he said simply.   
“And that’s all it is?” Fergus asked with raised eyebrows.  
“Are you asking me if I love her?” Zevran replied pointedly.   
“Do you?” Fergus asked curiously. Again, he resembled his sister in such a way that Zevran almost forgot it was her brother he was talking to. Fergus really just seemed curious, like Fela had whenever she asked after his personal life.

“Yes,” Zevran admitted, “but not in the way you think.”  
“As in, you love her but you are not _in_ love with her?” Fergus clarified.  
“Fergus, your sister has given me my freedom from the Crows, she became my first true friend, and we fought through a Blight together,” Zevran explained, “because of her, I am where I am today. And I’m in a good place, amigo, by her side.”  
“I guess I can understand that,” Fergus replied with a nod, “it makes sense.”  
“It does, doesn’t it?” Zevran quipped.

“Alistair makes her happy in a way I never could,” Zevran continued quietly, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  
“You make her happy too you know,” Fergus replied, “she treasures your friendship greatly.”  
“Yo se,” Zevran answered, “she told me.”  
“She would do that,” Fergus replied, “I know she has trusted you with a lot of personal stuff. Stuff only Alistair and I know. That’s a _big_ deal to Fela, don’t forget that.”  
“Oh, I won’t,” Zevran replied with a broad smile, “it’s all good Fergus, you don’t need to reassure me.”  
“Just checking,” he quipped, and they continued their journey.

The sun was nearing the horizon, and they would make it to Dragon’s Peak by noon. They were slightly ahead of schedule, but that could only be taken as a good thing.

* * *

“I want to speak to her.”  
“No.”  
“Bitch tried to have me killed!”  
“I said no, Fela.”

She threw her hands in the air in an exasperated gesture. Alistair was just looking out for her safety, she knew that. But knowing Anora was right there, in the tower they locked her in, was like dangling a piece of bacon in front of a hungry Mabari.

“What is she going to do to me? She has no weapons, she was never trained, I could snap her in half!” Fela protested.  
“I know you could love, but that’s not the point.”  
“Then what _is?_ ” she groused.  
“The point is that I simply don’t want my pregnant wife exposed to any more risks than she already is,” Alistair said soothingly, “Anora is fine where she is right now, she won’t be able to do anything.”  
“She managed to contact the Crows,” Fela groused, “that’s certainly doing something.”  
“Not anymore, we’ve taken every inkbottle, every pen, and every scrap of paper she could possibly use,” Alistair replied, “she is fully isolated now.”   
“Yeah, and so am I,” Fela snarled, “taken hostage by my own kid.” 

She plopped down on the sofa and sighed, looking at her stomach with an odd expression on her face. Something between amusement and annoyance.

“You think maybe that’s why she did it?” Fela asked.  
“Because you’re vulnerable and carrying my heir you mean?” Alistair clarified, “yes, probably.”  
“I’m _not_ vulnerable,” Fela protested, “there is proof of that in the Palace gardens.”  
“I know, I know,” Alistair replied and sat down next to her to put a hand on her stomach protectively, “but you have much to lose, we both do.” Fela didn’t reply but for a conceding sigh.

“He’s kicking like mad,” Alistair observed, moving both of his hands so he could feel it better.  
“Because he agrees with me,” she replied, a lazy grin playing around her lips.   
“So I’m going to have to keep two hotheads in line, huh?” Alistair replied playfully, “I can manage that.”   
“’In line?’” Fela repeated with a scowl, “you’re going to keep me, ‘ _in_ _line’_ ”  
“Or something that doesn’t make you bristle like an angry bear,” he replied lightly, “but someone’s gotta keep you from stabbing _every_ asshole we come across.” She chuckled at that and put both of her hands on his.

“I still want to talk to Anora,” she said and Alistair smiled.  
“And here I thought I finally had you distracted,” he quipped.   
“Like it’s that easy,” she countered.  
“Depends on what I’m distracting you with,” he quipped and kissed her cheek. She sighed and let out a small chuckle.

“You know why I need to talk to Anora, right?” she asked quietly.  
“I can make a guess,” he replied gently, “I don’t want to argue about this.”  
“Then let’s not argue,” Fela insisted, “tell me what you worry is going to happen.”

Alistair thought about that for a moment, if Anora attacked Fela, she wouldn’t last long. Fela may have been pretty huge by then but if the mess she made in the palace gardens was any indication, it wasn’t slowing her down one bit. She would snap Anora’s neck in the blink of an eye, or smash her skull in, or strangle her with her bare hands. Honestly, there was no telling what violent actions might be provoked by an attack, armed or otherwise. And Fela was right, Anora was no fighter.

“It’s not that I have scenario’s in my head where she gets the drop on you with a concealed dagger or something,” he began, “it’s that I worry she’ll pull something we won’t see coming.”  
“Like we didn’t see the first hit coming,” Fela said with a nod.  
“Exactly,” he affirmed, “we might know _why_ she is doing this, but we don’t know _how_ she did it. If she can contact the outside world, she’s probably also able to smuggle things in, or even people, I don’t know. I just can’t shake the thought she wants you to go up there.”   
“What if I didn’t go up there,” Fela began, “instead we can take her to a place of our choosing.”  
“Such as?”  
“Hmm… the dungeons might intimidate her, but they are pretty far from the tower Anora is in, so I’m guessing you’d rather not take her there. The palace is still her territory in her mind, so any office or sitting room would be too familiar… Perhaps a place she wouldn’t have frequented in her time as Queen, like a stockroom in the servants quarters maybe… It might throw her off guard, she wouldn’t expect it,” Fela replied thoughtfully.

“Alright,” Alistair replied slowly, “any plans she has would be situated in locations where she might have some form of control, taking her out of the tower would mess that up nicely.”   
“If you want to mess up any form of control she might have had, we should use different guards too, ones that haven’t been into contact with her,” she added, “Ser Kylon will know which ones are suited for the task.”   
“There are plenty of unused rooms in the palace,” Alistair mused, “if we pick one that has no immediate exits and only one way of reaching it… Yes, that could work.”   
“Pick a place without windows, put a bag over her head while she’s taken there, clear out any stuff she might recognise ,” Fela replied, “so she won’t know where she is.” Alistair sighed and let out a quiet chuckle.

“A compromise huh,” Alistair surmised, “you get to talk to her in surroundings of my choosing.”  
“Yes, pretty much,” Fela grinned, “this way you can control the risks your pregnant wife is exposed to.”   
“So if I wanted Anora tied to a chair, you’d be fine with that?” he quipped.   
“By all means, so long as she can still talk back, you could put her in a straightjacket and hang her upside down from the ceiling for all I care.”  
“I just might,” Alistair replied darkly.

“So, what do you think?” she asked expectantly.  
“You make some good points, and I do see the benefits of _you_ talking to her,” he replied, “let me think about it. Anora won’t be going anywhere.”   
“And in the meantime you’ll go back to being my doting husband?” Fela asked playfully.  
“Well, with Fergus and Zevran gone I can hardly let you out my sight, can I?” he replied in the same playful tones, “who knows what kind of mischief you’d get up to.”  
“Oh, I’m not that bad,” she purred and moved a little closer, “I can be good.”  
“Is that right?” he whispered in her ear, knowing full well it send a shiver down her spine whenever he did that. He smiled, noticing the way she briefly clenched her thighs.   
“Hmm, with the right incentive,” she answered and moved a hand to his thigh when he kissed the spot just below her ear.  
“How is that?”   
“It’s a good start.”

He pulled her closer as he started to gently devour her neck, brushing her hair aside with his fingertips and winding them through her hair so he could tilt her head back. She complied, gently squeezing his thigh before moving her hand up higher at the slowest possible pace. Alistair moved to kiss her lips when she brushed her hand along his cock, stroking it gently.

Fela didn’t challenge him as much nowadays, instead she indulged in her softer side between the sheets. Alistair figured it was because she had noticed him treating her more gently in bed, for obvious reasons. Before they were sure she was pregnant, they had been getting increasingly rough with each other. But Alistair didn’t feel comfortable choking Fela while she had a baby inside her. He didn’t feel the need to dominate her as much, they had just naturally gotten more… gentle. He still spanked her and tied her up sometimes, because she _really_ liked that, but the need to insure she was comfortable was overpowering nowadays. And some things just didn’t fit into that. It was a new need, taking care of his woman in this way. But that didn’t mean they lacked urgency or passion.

She moved to straddle him, cupping his head in her hands and kissing him like she wanted to consume him, pressing herself against his body in an attempt to have more of him. He gladly let her have it, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. He parted his lips when he felt her tongue, rolled his hips against hers when she did the same. The fact that her stomach pressed against him, round and firm, somehow got him even harder than he already was. She chuckled when he let out a low growl, revelling in the knowledge that she did that to him.

Alistair’s hands had moved to the hem of her tunic, and she lifted her arms to let him pull it off. Her breastband followed before she had time to put her arms down, and she gladly let Alistair nuzzle her breasts, cupping them with both hands. She sighed softly when he started kissing the tender flesh, occasionally teasing her with his tongue and teeth. Then moaned quietly when he reached a nipple, kissing the sensitive nub before swirling his tongue around it and sucked.

Suddenly, Alistair jerked back, his eyes wide with surprise. Fela was about to ask what was wrong when she noticed him swallow.

“Did you…” she began, “I mean, was that…” she made a helpless gesture.  
“Breastmilk,” he said helpfully.   
“A-ha,” she said slowly, frowning down at her boobs.   
“Did you… mind?” he asked hesitantly, unsure what to make of this new development.   
“A little, yeah,” she admitted, “I mean, not that you… accidently… swallowed it, you didn’t do anything wrong,” she added quickly, “but uhm, maybe… don’t, do that? It’s weirding me out a little.”  
“Oh, sorry love, it was a surprise for me too,” he said soothingly, “I certainly wasn’t expecting… breastmilk…”   
“I know,” she answered, “it’s ok. New development, as of now I am apparently lactating. And I guess I don’t really like the thought of breastfeeding my husband.”  
“That’s fair,” he replied with a nod, “I don’t harbour any particular desire to drink your milk either. It’s not meant for _me_ , anyway.”   
“Let’s save it for the baby then,” Fela replied, “glad we agree.”

“Wait,” Alistair said when she moved to kiss him again, “don’t you want to know what it tastes like?”

Fela groaned and moved to stand up.  
“I don’t…” she sighed and shook her head, “no, not really.”  
“That weirded out, huh?” he said with a smirk, “it’s funny, I think this is the first time you’ve ever been this flustered about something that happened in the bedroom, well… during activities that usually _take_ _place_ in the bedroom.”   
“Yeah,” she answered with a small smile and a defeated wave of her hand, “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“It tastes sweet,” Alistair quipped. She shot him a glare and snatched her tunic off the floor.  
“Screw you,” she mumbled half-heartedly.  
“And creamy, like fresh cow milk.”  
“Oh, now you’re comparing me to a cow?” she hissed and yanked the tunic over her head with a scowl.   
“No, honey, I’m trying to reassure you it didn’t taste bad,” he replied soothingly, “not that I want more of it. But I don’t want you to think it’s… I don’t know… unpleasant? It’s very normal you know.”  
“You read that shit in a pregnancy book?”   
“If you call a study of pregnancy by a scholar a pregnancy book, then yes.”  
“Yeah, well, how would you feel if _your_ titties were leaking milk and I drank from it,” she shook her shoulders at the thought.  
“’ _My titties?_ ’” Alistair repeated.   
“That’s right, _your_ titties,” she pointed at the general area of his nipples, “sometimes men lactate too you know. I’m not sure _why_ that happens to some, but apparently you _are_ equipped.” Alistair frowned at that.   
“I wish I could erase that bit of information.”  
“And now you know how I feel,” she replied blandly.  
“I _don’t_ have titties,” he replied, slightly petulantly, “it’s muscle.”  
“You think there isn’t any muscle in mine?” she challenged.  
“That’s a logical fallacy.”  
“Bite me.”

* * *

“Remind me, _why,_ are we in one of the most exclusive inns in Dragon’s Peak?” Fergus asked, “people know me here.”  
“Indeed, it would be much more suspicious if a Teyrn was found in a seedy inn where even the bedbugs have fleas,” Zevran replied, “you could simply be here to visit some of these acquaintances of yours. No reason you should know the man who send his crows after your sister also resides in this fine city.”  
“And the fact that I’m here with _you,_ won’t be a dead give-away?” Fergus challenged.  
“Maybe, maybe not,” Zevran replied, “if it is, it will at least spare us the trouble of seeking him out. Which I suspect he’ll do sooner or later through some cat’s paw of his anyway. In the meantime, I’d rather be here than on a thin lumpy mattress being bitten by bedbugs and fleas. Besides, Clemente’s clientele is in places like this, which means his crows are in places like this as well. He’ll want to know who is coming and going you see, everyone here is a potential customer, or target. And it is quite unusual for one to approach the crows with anything other than a potential contract, given where intentions to retaliate usually lead. He’s probably going to offer you the chance to outbid Anora.”

Fergus gave Zevran a flat look.  
“You may have a point. By now he probably knows the first attempt has failed, last I checked birds are faster than horses,” he admitted.  
“See? No reason to hide in some dank and dirty dock inn, he’d find us anyway,” Zevran replied innocently.  
“Right, _that’s_ the reason,” Fergus said with a roll of his eyes.  
“Aren’t you relieved to be staying here, rather than some dump with more cockroaches than a stray dog has fleas?” Zevran countered.  
“Yeah, a little,” Fergus admitted reluctantly.  
“Wonderful, now, let us get refreshed first. Best to act natural no? We can’t stop now.”  
“Indeed,” Fergus replied, “I’ll be needing wine.”  
“Good start.”

By the time they were thoroughly freshened up, the sun was starting to descent below the horizon. Fergus did indeed talk to some acquaintances, not the least of whom, was Oswyn Sighard. He’d gotten word Fergus was in town, and had come to greet him on behalf of his father, Bann Sighard, who offered to host them at his estate. They were _not,_ by any means, keeping a low profile. It certainly wasn’t how Fergus had expected it to go, but he figured Zevran knew what he was doing. It wasn’t until Bann Sighard asked what brought them to Dragon’s Peak, that he realised Zevran was just making it up as he went.

“It’s been a while since we hosted a Cousland,” Bann Sighard said as he shook Fergus’ hand, “how is your sister?”  
“Pregnant and crazy, but also happy and healthy,” Fergus replied, Bann Sighard chuckled warmly.  
“It’s good to hear the Queen is doing well,” he replied diplomatically and turned to Zevran, “I understand you were part of the team she took into Howe’s dungeon, where she took my son off a torture table.”   
“I was indeed, my Lord,” Zevran said with a gracious bow, “I’m sure she will be glad to hear your son’s leg seems to have gotten a bit better.”  
“’Better’ meaning he no longer needs a cane to walk,” Bann Sighard replied wryly, “ah, but I do not mean to diminish his rescue. My family and I owe you a great debt. My son may have sustained permanent damage, but I cannot stand to think on what might have happened had you not been there.”  
“It was my lovely Queen who found him and picked him up,” he said honestly, “I did offer him a healing potion and a stiff drink though,” he added with a coy smile.   
“The next best thing when the damage is beyond a healer’s skill eh?” Oswyn added and nudged his father with an elbow.   
“Morrigan may have had some skill with minor injuries but she wasn’t exactly a healer,” Zevran quipped, “she was of a more… lethal, persuasion when it came to magic.”  
“That, and my injury wasn’t even close to minor,” Oswyn replied wryly, “even an actual healer couldn’t fully reverse the damage. Even so, it could have been worse. Most of us didn’t make it out.”  
“Fela was never one to leave a man behind,” Fergus replied, “besides, she sort of considers you one of the good guys, you know, she respects you.”  
“That’s… a great compliment, thank you,” Oswyn replied.

It was a bit hard to believe, the lithe woman had practically carried him out of the torture chamber. He had been in quite a miserable state. But then again, she didn’t really care what state he had been in, did she? He knew her well enough to know she didn’t give a shit that he had soiled his smalls and could barely stand. She carried him out anyway, fixed him up as best she could, and send him to safety. She could have left him there, she could have demanded his support at the Landsmeet before freeing him. Instead, she had opened the shackles on his wrist before the last guard was even down and dead. He’d felt a little awkward, nearly naked and dirty, one arm draped around her shoulders while she leaned over him to open the other shackle, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t comfort him at the time. An odd woman, but without a doubt among the best of them.

“Might I ask,” Bann Sighard said, “what brings you to Dragon’s Peak? It was my understanding that you planned to remain in Denerim until your sister gives birth.”  
“Ah, now there is an interesting question,” Zevran replied smoothly, “during the Blight, when Loghain was still Regent, he put out a contract with the Crows on any remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden. At that time, the only two Grey Wardens in the country, were our very own King and Queen.”  
“They were attacked,” Bann Sighard said with a frown, “weren’t they?”  
“Queen Fela and I were attacked, yes, in the palace gardens,” Zevran replied, “she didn’t take it well.”  
“She is alright, yes?” Oswyn checked, looking at Fergus expectantly.   
“Oh, certainly,” Fergus replied, “she went through them like they were paper dolls, third trimester or otherwise.” Both men raised their eyebrows and nodded appreciatively.  
“Figures,” Oswyn laughed, “good on her.”

“And this brings you to Dragon’s Peak?” Bann Sighard frowned.  
“Yes,” Zevran replied, “it didn’t take her long to find a crow who could identify the cell that carried out the attack, the Master of this cell, is called Clemente.”  
“I’ll have him found,” Bann Sighard replied decisively and waved a servant over to call a runner.

Fergus looked at Zevran, who simply looked back at him and smiled.

* * *

Anora had been waiting in a dank, dark room for what felt like hours. Alone, shackled to a chair.

She had been telling herself it was just a game, that they were trying to intimidate her. But her gut had twisted itself into a tight knot, her hands were sweaty, and her heart thundered in her chest. They had pulled a bag over her head when they took her there, another thing that was meant to confuse and intimidate her. She didn’t know where she was, she didn’t know why she was there, and she didn’t know what was going to happen next. Not for certain at any rate.

All she could see were bare walls, that meant she was facing away from the door. If anybody entered, she wouldn’t be able to see them. It left her feeling terribly exposed. Which was probably the point. Unable to do anything but wait, she decided to try and form some sort of plan. What questions did she expect, which answers would she give. It was all she could do to regain some form of control.

She stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath when she heard a door open, though she heard no footsteps. She could hear the door being closed, but she didn’t hear anything that might indicate another person had come in. Perhaps someone just looked in on her? She tried looking around, but she saw nobody there. She felt her chest constrict around her madly thundering heart, the rise of the hairs on the back of her neck made a cold sensations shoot down her spine. Suddenly she became very away of the thin sheen of sweat on her skin, chilling her down to her bones when she felt a small gust of wind.

Anora jerked when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“I apologise for all this,” a familiar voice said quietly, “it is meant to insure my safety, but we both know it’s entirely unnecessary.”   
“Warden,” Anora said weakly, “it’s been a while.”  
“Indeed,” Fela replied as she walked around Anora to stand in front of her.  
“I see congratulations are in order,” Anora said with a nod at Fela’s stomach.  
“Are we to exchange pleasantries?” Fela asked and cocked her head, “I expected you to want to know why you are here.”  
“I assume to answer questions about a contract my father made with the Crows,” she replied with a sigh, “I don’t feel particularly inclined to skip to that part.”  
“That’s understandable,” Fela observed with a small smile, “though blatant lies are hardly more pleasant.”  
“Pardon?”

“Did you ever want children?” Fela asked curiously and abruptly switching topics, “you were married to Cailan for five years after all.”  
“What does that have to do with anything?”  
“I would expect ‘little miss perfect’ to fulfil her ‘wifely duties.’ Meaning you should have three or four heirs by now,” Fela continued, “and I wonder, why you have none.” Anora scoffed.  
“That’s rich, coming from _you._ ”  
“Oh please, I never aspired to be perfect, quite the opposite in fact,” Fela replied off-handedly, “I just can’t help but wonder, didn’t you _want_ children? Or were you simply unable to have them?”  
“If this is the alternative to answering questions about the Crows, I’d rather get on with it,” Anora countered.

Fela stepped a little closer to study Anora. Her posture was mostly defiant, but the tension in her neck and shoulders betrayed her. A pang of regret twisted her gut in painfully tight knots, it had not been a choice.

“Oh, it was the latter, wasn’t it?” Fela continued in velvety tones, as if she had not heard Anora’s reply, “what was the problem? Did either of you not prefer the opposite sex? There’s ways around that you know.”  
“I had a country to run,” Anora hissed through clenched teeth.  
“But you would have figured that out, wouldn’t you?” Fela went on, “no, I think that if everything was working as it should, you would have at least one heir.”  
“What is the point of this Warden!?”  
“That you have nobody to still be fighting for and you have no hope there ever will be.”

Fela held Anora’s gaze during the silence that followed, measuring her response. The room they were in was dark to begin with, but even so, Anora felt as if the room went darker. Like the light was fleeing from the woman in front of her. It made her feel like a cold iron fist was grasping her heart, trying to squeeze it to keep it from beating.

“So why would you go and change the terms of the contract with the Crows you inherited?” Fela continued, “if they couldn’t take me out when I was fresh out of Ostagar, they certainly can’t take me out now. It’s close to suicidal, especially since you’re locked up where I can _very_ easily reach you, and honey,” she leaned in, “you are a paper doll compared to me.”   
“Not everything is done by the sword,” Anora countered, taking great care not to show her fear, “your Alistair certainly understands that, or I’d be dead already, wouldn’t I?”  
“Assassinations, are done by the sword,” Fela retorted, “perhaps you were unaware of this, but I managed to get that contract suspended.”  
“How do you know it’s not a new contract?”  
“Same way I got the only existing contract suspended and found out it was you who offered to double the price,” Fela replied, “they’re crows, Anora, it’s a business.”

Anora sighed, and nodded, looking down at her knees. It was over.

“What have you come here for Warden? Why did you go through the trouble of putting me here?”  
“Oh that,” Fela replied off-handedly, “that’s just Alistair being protective. He wouldn’t let me talk to you in surroundings where you might have any form of control.”  
“I take it you did not agree?”  
“I didn’t really care,” Fela said with a shrug, “besides, he made some good points.”  
“Hm, I would have thought this was all your doing.”  
“Please, I have no need for such games, effective as they may appear,” she smiled a little, “you’re sweating. I’d bet your heartbeat is through the roof right now.”

Anora glared up at her, but didn’t respond, refusing to admit she was indeed afraid. She betrayed herself when she flinched as Fela reached a hand to her throat, but all she did was feel her pulse.

“Yes,” she whispered ominously, “that’s hammering alright, and your breath is coming short too.”  
“Because I am afraid, is that what you want to hear!?” Anora snapped, “that these tactics to make me feel vulnerable are working!?”  
“I don’t need you to say it Anora, I can plainly see it,” Fela retorted, “it’s amusing, but it’s not what I’m here for.”  
“What then?”  
“The point isn’t that you are afraid, it’s the _indignity_ ,” Fela explained in velvety tones, she smiled when he noticed Anora clench her jaw, “you can’t stand it, can you? Stripped of all wealth, power, fortune, your titles, your lands. No one left to mourn you when you die, and no one left to fight for. All you have is your pride, though you have it in abundance. I can take that away too.”

“What would be the point,” Anora countered, “you’re not getting a confession from me Warden, it wouldn’t change anything anyway.”  
“Now _that_ , is where you’re wrong,” Fela replied curtly, “you ordered an attack on me, Anora, _and_ my unborn child.” By now she had turned an almost grey-ish kind of pale, realising she was done.

“You wouldn’t believe how he’s kicking right now,” she said in a smooth voice, placing a hand on her stomach, and smiled to herself, “six crows, attacked me in the palace gardens. One was mauled by my hound, one was skewered by my best friend, and the remaining four I carved up myself,” she continued in a voice clear as spring water, “the Crows have been informed that you are dead and that there is no longer an heir to pay for any services provided, the Master of the cell that accepted your 'new terms' is being hunted down as we speak.”  
“And yet, I am alive,” Anora countered.  
“For now,” Fela said slowly, “as things stand, you have three days until execution.”

Anora let out a shaky breath. _Three_ _days_.

“I am curious though,” Fela said quietly, “say the Crows had succeeded and took out both Alistair and me. What did you think would happen? Did you think the nobles would come and free you? Put you back on that throne you think you have a claim to?” Fela stepped in close to loom over her, staring down at Anora with cold fury.   
“You would be the first to hang,” she said in a dangerously low voice, “in this scenario, Alistair and I aren’t around to forbid torture of course, so they would only hang whatever is left of you after Zevran got creative. Left without a ruler, the nobility would soon be at the brink of civil war once more, right when the country is starting to mend. You’d be something then, wouldn’t you? The cause of all that chaos, right at the centre of it. And you’ve made yourself believe you did it for the good of Ferelden, all because you can’t stand the thought of being reduced to the failed, base-born, grunt you always were.”

Fela gazed down into Anora’s eyes as she peeled away the last layers of her ego and saw the narcissist underneath. The thing that mattered to Anora most, was how others perceived her. And it was far beyond anything healthy. If she were honest, Anora had not failed at all. She _had_ been a good Queen, but Anora had hidden insecurities, and those could be exploited.

“Losing the throne was a humiliation for you, wasn’t it?” Fela asked ominously.  
“ _Stop_ ,” Anora hissed.   
“Reduced to nothing.”  
“ _Shut up!_ ”  
“The Landsmeet preferred a man you consider beneath you,” Fela purred, “that must have stung. They didn’t quite respect you as much as you thought when Cailan was still alive, did they?”  
“ _Fuck you!_ ”  
“The Landsmeet favoured Alistair and me,” Fela said lightly, “given how hard you worked to make us look like traitors, I’d say that speaks volumes about their opinion of _you._ ”   
“ _The Landsmeet was a farce!_ ”  
“And how easily the palace guard turned on you too,” Fela continued, “you must have felt like the entire world suddenly turned against you.”

It was all laid bare before her now. Anora had been alone with nothing but her grief and rage, stewing in it while watching Alistair and Fela settle into the life Anora believed should have been hers. All she had was the conviction that she would have been a better ruler than Alistair, and he was proving her wrong quite effectively. Little by little, the intricate construct of Anora’s ego had unravelled and fallen apart. She had fallen off her pedestal, lost the support and respect of the nobility, even her own servants and guards. In Anora’s eyes, everyone had changed loyalties far too easily, and she had been abandoned.

A narcissist’s worst fear isn’t that somebody doesn’t like them. It’s being revealed for what they are. In Anora’s case, the worthless, unlovable parasite that she secretly believed she was. Their ego’s and their need for adoration, are defensive strategies that turned pathological to the point that they suck others dry like vampires. And when the nobility abandoned her, when the throne was taken away from her, and all her titles and lands were stripped, Anora felt like Fela had exposed her for what she was. Fela had destroyed her world, and now she was left with a huge inferiority complex and staggering amounts of fury.

“You don’t even have any allies anymore, do you?” Fela purred, leaning ever closer to get in Anora’s face, “there was no strategy, no plan, you don’t even have the funds to pay the Crows, do you?”  
“ _How dare you!?_ ” Anora snarled, “delusional _bitch_! Do you feel good about yourself now!? Do you feel like _you’ve_ _won!?_ ” Fela bent at the waist to put both of her hands on Anora’s forearms, invading her space and fixing Anora’s gaze.  
“I _have_ won,” she said with a nod to the shackles, “and you are quite at my mercy now, aren’t you. Do you think anybody would try to stop me if I started carving up your face? Cutting off your fingers, removing your tongue so you can no longer speak. It’s certainly an option I’ve considered, no tongue, no eyes, and no fingers. I’d very much like to see you try to contact the Crows then.”  
“Threatening me with torture won’t get you what you came here for.”  
“Oh? Pray tell, what _did_ I come here for?” Fela challenged, raising an eyebrow at Anora and waiting expectantly. The chained woman opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, and closed it again.

“We can play all the games you like Anora,” Fela whispered, “but the only place where you have any form of control left, is in your own head.”  
“It’s not a game,” Anora whispered.  
“Then what would you call it? A fight? Gambling with lives? Or have you made yourself believe that it is justice? Just like you made yourself believe you are the _only_ one who knows what is good for this country. Like father like daughter I suppose, you’re even willing to kill people or let them die, just because you think you can do a better job. Just like your father did at Ostagar, when he killed your husband.”

Anora wanted to look away, to turn her head or close her eyes, but she couldn’t. She was… stuck somehow, staring up into Fela’s black eyes, obscured by shadows but burning like hot coals. Fela was somehow overwhelming her, she decided, the fear inspiring tactics were working. Yes, that must be it. Fear could paralyse people, and since running or fighting were out of the question… It made sense. Though, as Fela held her gaze, Anora became slowly aware of the extent to which Fela despised her. And with that, came the realisation that she had picked a fight with someone who could not be fought.

“You should know,” she said ominously after a brief silence, “I never responded well to assassination attempts, but _you,_ well you put an innocent child in harm’s way,” she let her fury bleed into the air around her taking a moment to let Anora breathe it in, “it’s a funny thing,” she continued, “how much you can come to love a child before it is born, before it even has a _name._ But there is _nothing_ I wouldn’t do to keep this baby safe, and I am capable of quite a lot, Anora.”

Anora felt like her body froze over solid while she gazed up into Fela’s eyes, she couldn’t breathe, her heart wouldn’t beat, she couldn’t even blink. Confronted with Fela’s fury like this, every instinct screamed at her to run and hide. But she was shackled to a chair, she could do neither of those things. There was no escape, no hope. All she had, was three days of being subjected to this woman before she died a violent death.

“There it is,” Fela whispered in a satisfied tone, “that moment when you realise all you have left is misery and desperation without hope of escape.” She stood.   
“You’ll hang,” Fela announced, “along with what you would consider common rabble. Then we’ll burn you and use your ashes as fertiliser for the palace gardens, mixed with some cow dung.”

With that, she left Anora alone in the dark, empty room. Shivering and breathing shakily.

* * *

It didn’t take long for Bann Sighard to locate Master Clemente, all he had to do was ask around among his peers. His peers, were Clemente’s usual clientele, after all.

Apparently Master Clemente was held up in an abandoned estate in the outer ring of the city. Not the best neighbourhood, but what could you expect of a Master of assassins. Bann Sighard would set up a meeting, and Zevran and Fergus would do the rest.

It was so painfully simple, Fergus worried Zevran did not, in fact, know what he was doing and they were walking into a trap. An obvious one. Then again, Zevran actually knew how these people worked, and if they were anything like Zevran, they’d simply roll with the punches.

Zevran had explained that nobody ever went against the Crows, because going after an army of assassins is generally a bad idea, so they wouldn’t be expecting a fight, they would be expecting a negotiation. That Fergus planned to negotiate with steel, was hardly an important detail to the flamboyant assassin. Their weapons would probably be taken before the meeting anyway. He figured they would have to get into one room first, whether they accomplished that by sneaking in or by letting Clemente think it was a negotiation, didn’t matter.

What mattered was that the man who had orchestrated the attack on Fela, was eliminated. Neither Fergus, nor Zevran had any intentions of talking it over, it was too personal for that.

Upon arriving at the estate, their weapons were confiscated. Crows might not expect people to be stupid enough to come after them but that didn’t mean they were careless.

“You’ll get your belongings back when you leave,” the doorman said curtly, “nothing personal, just policy,” he said when Fergus frowned as he handed over the Cousland family sword.   
“Safety first,” Fergus replied snidely, but proceeded to unbuckle the rest of his weapons and handed them over. He could ‘negotiate’ with his fists too.   
“Naturally,” Zevran added in smoothly polite tones, “one cannot tolerate knife fights in the workplace.” he handed over both his daggers, four vials of poison, a pair of brass knuckles, several throwing knives, two smaller hidden knives, his back-up daggers, and a boot knife. The doorman looked the items over appreciatively.  
“That’s good steel,” he said as he held up Zevran’s off-hand dagger.   
“Well, if for some reason I don’t make it out alive, you can keep it,” Zevran said jovially, “but in the meantime I’d appreciate it if you kept my tools safe, yes?”   
“Of course, we’re all professionals here,” the doorman replied in warm tones and gestured for Fergus and Zevran to continue inside the estate. Where they came face to face with a secretary. No joke, it appeared Master Clemente had elevated his business, to an _actual_ business.

“Name?” the young man asked in a disinterested voice.   
“Zevran Aranai and Fergus Cousland,” Zevran replied brightly, “we are to meet with Master Clemente, Bann Sighard has referred us.”  
“Take a seat and you’ll be collected when the Master is finished with his current appointment,” the secretary said, and went back to looking bored without another glance in their direction.

Zevran smiled brightly at Fergus and settled into a plush chair with a luxurious sigh.   
“And now, we wait,” he said contently. Fergus frowned at him, whatever he was expecting them to do, it wasn’t this. Swaggering into the home of the man you mean to kill after enlisting help from the local Bann, certainly didn’t enter his mind. He had expected it to be more cloak and dagger, instead, they were doing… this…

They didn’t need to wait for very long, scant minutes after sitting down, a haggard looking woman with a clipboard approached.   
“Cousland and Aranai?” she asked as she looked from Fergus to Zevran and back.   
“Certainly my Lady,” Zevran stood and bowed.  
“Come along with me, I’ll show you to the Master’s office,” she started walking without checking if Fergus and Zevran followed, absorbed by her clipboard.

She led them deeper into the estate and to, what looked like, a luxurious library. Smart, noise-wise, the books would muffle much more sound than bare stone wall did. At an ornate desk in the middle of the room sat a middle-aged man with greasy blond hair, hunched over several documents.

Fergus’ blood boiled, his vision narrowed, homing in on his target. Seeing the man who had gone after his sister set every nerve ablaze with violence. It made his muscles tense and his heartbeat pick up, his body was getting ready for the fight it knew was coming. For now, however, Fergus wanted to take in his surroundings. How many exits were there, what objects might be used as weapons, what might be used for cover, things like that. He might have felt like he spontaneously burst into flame, but that didn’t mean he showed it. Keeping a pleasant smile on his face.

“Gentlemen,” he said in a thick Antivan accent as he looked up, “welcome, welcome, have a seat.”  
“Master Clemente I presume,” Fergus said, sounding much more relaxed than he felt, “how kind of you to meet us on such short notice.”  
“It is no trouble, for an esteemed member of the nobility such as yourself,” Clemente replied, “I understand you are currently the Teyrn of Highever.”  
“That is correct,” Fergus answered and sat down in one of the chairs, “and I understand you are the Master of this particular cell of Crows.” Clemente smiled, and made a dramatic gesture.  
“Indeed I am,” he said, smirking up at Fergus, “I provide a number of services, for the right price.”

While Fergus chatted up the Master, Zevran carefully looked around. There were two exits. The one leading to the hallway they had just used, and one that led to an unknown destination. They were on the second floor of the building, so escape through a window might be possible, but probably not easy. There would be archers watching from the outer walls of the estate. Though, if Fergus was anything like his sister, it was much more likely he planned on simply killing his way out. And Zevran already knew that Fergus was a _lot_ like his sister. If it wasn’t necessary however, or paid for, Zevran preferred to keep the fighting to a minimum. And he had just the right idea of how they might accomplish that.

“And I see you have brought Zevran Aranai,” Clemente said slowly turning toward the elf, “the one that got away. I heard you were starting a business for yourself.”  
“I am,” Zevran said brightly, “but that hardly means I control the market.”  
“What brings you here then?” Clemente continued, “I would happily accept a referral for a new client. I doubt other cells would be this willing to work with a man they consider a deserter. We might be able to help each other out, you and I. I understand you are quite connected with the nobility in Denerim.”  
“I have some friends in the right places,” Zevran said slyly.   
“Like the Queen of Ferelden?”  
“Especially the Queen of Ferelden,” Zevran replied and moved to sit in the other chair, “monarchs make for good business.”  
“That, they certainly do,” Master Clemente replied, “it’s nothing personal.”  
“It’s just business,” Fergus added darkly, still smiling pleasantly.  
“Exactly,” Clemente replied and folded his hands in front of him.

“Now, let’s talk about what brings you here,” Clemente continued.   
“A contract, accepted by the Crows during a Blight, about two years ago,” Fergus replied, staring Clemente down from his chair. Even in a sitting position, Fergus was _tall_.   
“The contract on any surviving Grey Warden in Ferelden,” Clemente said with a nod, “you wish to know who the client is?”  
“We know it was Loghain, he was the one who hired _me_ in the first place,” Zevran replied, “and we know he has only one surviving heir.”

“Who is currently a prisoner of your new King, and his Queen, as I understand it,” Clemente replied casually, “if you are here to have that contract ripped up, I am afraid I cannot help you. But since you have the client in prison, there is a very easy way to have that contract nullified. In fact, I have already been informed there is no longer a client to pay for the contract, thus I believe your problem to be already solved.”   
  
“Define ‘my problem,’” Fergus said in a dangerously low voice.   
“There is no need for unpleasantness,” Clemente said lightly, “your sister is, once again, quite safe. And so is her child,” he added with an amused look.

In a flash, Fergus was on his feet and dragging Clemente over his desk by his collar, and dropped him on the floor. He got one punch in before Clemente kicked his feet from under him and attacked. Meanwhile, Zevran casually stood and dragged one of the chairs to the door leading to the hallway, shoved the chair under the handles, and proceeded to do the same with the other door while Fergus handled Clemente.

He grabbed at a side table and smashed it into Clemente when he tried to kick Fergus in the stomach. The assassin reared, stumbling against his desk and giving Fergus enough time to get up and kick the back of Clemente’s knee to keep him from steadying himself. He drove his fist into the man’s temple, grabbed the side of his head and slammed it into the edge of the table, dazing him, but he didn’t go down. Instead, his fingers wrapped around a pen on his desk and he stabbed Fergus in the thigh with it. He let out a pained snarl before grabbing Clemente’s wrist and twisted the arm into an unnatural position. Clemente roared when the bone popped out of its socket in his shoulder, and braced himself with his knees against the desk to slam his head back into Fergus’ face.

Fergus staggered back, shaking off the blow and punching Clemente in the jaw as he turned. He deflected the second blow and sidestepped the third. So he kicked Clemente in the stomach, sending him crashing back into the desk. He didn’t give him any time to get back up, grabbing him by the collar and slamming his fist into Clemente’s face again, and again, and again, until it was a bloodied mess.

With every strike, the back of Clemente’s head hit the hardwood desk. Despite that, Clemente kept fighting back. He slammed his knee into Fergus’ side, so Fergus drove his elbow down in Clemente’s stomach. He somehow found a letter opener and jammed it into Fergus’ arm, so Fergus took the letter opener away and flung it across the room. He briefly let go of Clemente to break the other arm by slamming the elbow down on the edge of the desk and bending the arm in the wrong direction. After that, he resumed breaking Clemente’s face.

During all of this, Zevran went on about his business of barricading the doors and took a seat in Clemente’s chair when he was finished to watch Fergus beat Clemente to a pulp. He also noticed a pair of daggers strapped to the bottom of the desk, took both weapons and inspected them before handing one to Fergus. Who promptly drove the blade through Clemente’s throat. He stood over Clemente as he caught his breath, wiping his nose with his forearm. It came back red.

In the meantime, Zevran started opening several drawers, finding a bottle of Antivan rum. He sniffed it, decided it smelled good, took a long drink, and offered the bottle to Fergus. Who took it gladly.

“You have a little something here,” Zevran told him and pointed at his own cheek. Fergus wiped at it with his forearm, but just ended up making a bigger mess of it.   
“Have I told you how I’ve been noticing a lot of family resemblances lately?” Zevran went on.  
“Why are we talking about this now?” Fergus asked and took another gulp of rum before handing the bottle back to Zevran.  
“That killer instinct you’ve got,” Zevran replied, “family thing?”  
“Yeah, comes from my mother’s side of the family,” Fergus sighed.  
“Truly? Fela described your mother as, quite diplomatic,” he replied.   
“Our mother fought a war too you know,” Fergus shrugged, “against the Orlesians. She took down an Orlesian war ship by the time she was fifteen.”  
“Ah, the apple did not fall far from the tree, did it?”  
“Barely even an inch,” Fergus replied, “can we go? At this point we are just giving them time to come up with a plan.”  
“Si, si, hang on a moment.”

Zevran proceeded to cut of Clemente’s head. A messy job, with a dagger, he had to pry the top vertebrae apart, but he made it work.

“There, we walk out holding this, they’ll rethink what they’re doing. I’ll do the talking, you just look grim,” Zevran replied. Fergus looked at it, shrugged, and took the head. Zevran removed the chair from under the door, and opened it like nothing had happened. In the hall, stood the haggard looking secretary, clutching her clipboard to her chest.

“Fear not, dearest,” Zevran said and gestured to Fergus holding Clemente’s head, “we’re just passing through. Be a dear and inform the members of your cell that your Master is dead, we wouldn’t want them to die for nothing.”

She swallowed, nodded, and turned. She didn’t start screaming until she had descended two flights of stairs and reached the hall. Zevran casually strode down the corridor and followed her.

“Still your weapons,” he said calmly as he entered the hall, “your Master is dead and we have no quarrel with you.” Fergus followed Zevran and looked around the hall. One man dropped his sword with a shrug.   
“He was a right asshole anyway,” he said and turned to leave. Several others followed his example. Zevran took Fergus’ wrist to show the remaining crows Clemente’s head.   
“He did this with his bare hands,” Zevran said and nodded to Fergus, “but he has a dagger now. Walk away or die for nothing, take your pick.” That convinced the last of them and Zevran swaggered through the hall to find the doorman, who still had their weapons.

“My friend!” Zevran said brightly when he found him sitting at a desk near the front door, “Master Clemente told us to ask you for our belongings back,” he continued and pointed at the severed head Fergus was still holding. The doorman arched an eyebrow.  
“Hmm, there goes my salary for this week,” the man replied with a shrug, “nothing to be done about it now,” he sighed and stood, “and I’m not about to make things worse, follow me.” He went through a side door and returned everything in good order.   
“We left the office open,” Fergus said before they left, “get your salary and a nice bonus from there. Anybody asks, we took it.”  
“That’s mighty fine of you sir,” the doorman replied, “good day, save travels,” and he took off.

And just like that, they left the estate and made their way back to Bann Sighard’s estate. Fergus left Clemente’s head at his own ‘estate’ though, they had no more use for it anyway.


	84. Another Episode of Wild Cat and Bitch Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fergus and Zevran return to the city.

Fela was sitting by the hearth, idly twirling a strand of hair between her fingers.

Anora had lashed out when she ordered another hit, and while she could see how that happened, it was unlike Anora to do something so rash. Though maybe she had just cracked. The only thing she could still do was try to hurt the ones that had put her in this position. Perhaps she had even been waiting for Fela to be pregnant, hoping to catch her at a vulnerable moment and hit her where it hurt most. It would have worked too, if it had succeeded. Apparently killing an Archdemon didn’t do much for people underestimating her. Just as well, six crows was six too many anyway.

Asher’s ears perked up before the door opened and Alistair came in. Fela had thought Asher was alert and protective before, but since the attack he’d been hyper alert, and she had to call him back more than once already because he was actively intimidating anyone who came near her. Except Alistair of course, which was precisely why he wasn’t up on his paws, ready to pounce on whoever walked through the door.

“Hi honey,” Alistair said as he walked in and kissed Fela’s cheek.  
“Hello husband,” she replied sweetly, “come to check in on me?”  
“Just making sure you’re not plotting any murders,” he quipped and sat down next to her, “I trust you left Anora in one piece?”  
“Yeah, yeah,” she replied with a sigh, “I’m not in the habit of murdering people who can’t defend themselves.”  
“Did it go well then?” he asked and sat down next to her.

“Well enough,” Fela replied, “I bullied her a bit, but that woman is defeated.”  
“Hmm,” Alistair replied thoughtfully, “did she have nothing interesting to say?”  
“Very little,” she answered, “I think she figured she would just let me do the talking, they all do, but they all show themselves eventually, whether they speak or not.”  
“No confession I take it,” Alistair replied.  
“Not a verbal one, no,” Fela answered, “I could squeeze one out of her, but I would have to get _very_ nasty for that. And honestly, I’m not up for it. It wouldn’t change anything anyway, crows don’t stay silent unless you pay them for it.”

“Really?” Alistair asked with raised eyebrows, “because yesterday you were pretty… bloodthirsty?”  
“I know, but Anora has given up,” she explained, “there is no satisfaction in killing a foe that has given up, especially one with as little martial skill as she has.”  
“That makes sense,” Alistair said with a nod, “she can’t fight back anymore, we took that away from her already.”  
“Is that why you didn’t want to execute her?”  
“I suppose,” he replied, “but now I think executing her is the only way to get rid of the threat she poses, she’s shown that she won’t stop. She might seem defeated now, but she might put herself back together in time. She did before…”  
“Oh she needs to die,” Fela replied matter-of-factly, “but it doesn’t have to be me who kills her.”

“You’re like a cat that lost interest in dying prey,” Alistair observed.  
“Again with the cat comparisons?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“What? Don’t you like cats?”  
“I like cats just fine,” she replied, “but it’s hardly the first cat-comparison you’ve made.”   
“True,” Alistair replied, “you should take it as a compliment though, I like cats.” She chuckled at that, and moved over to curl up under his arm.  
“Alright then, I’m a bored cat,” she replied, “my prey stopped trying to run away and now it’s not fun anymore.”  
“Most cats would still eat it though,” Alistair quipped.  
“I’m a spoiled cat too,” Fela answered with a mild shrug, “I don’t need to catch my own food.”  
“There is some truth to that,” Alistair mused, “the catching your own food part, I mean. ‘Catching food’ meaning killing crows in Dragon’s Peak.”  
“Well, I would have done it myself but you wouldn’t let me,” she replied lightly, “you made some good points though, if I’m being honest.”  
“That’s the only kind I make,” he answered coyly.  
“Don’t push it.”

Alistair put a hand on her stomach when she winched at a nasty kick to her liver.  
“Are you ok?”  
“Yeah, he just _really_ likes to kick,” Fela replied and put her hand on his where it rested on top of her belly.  
“Rowdy little thing, huh?”   
“We’ll have our hands full with this one,” she answered with a lazy smile.  
“I’m looking forward to it.”

“I don’t think I’ll go see Anora again,” Fela said after a brief silence, “all that’s left to do is hanging her anyway.”  
“I’m glad,” Alistair replied, “I’d prefer to keep you close to me until Zevran and Fergus get back.”  
“If you want to keep me close, you’d better entertain me,” she quipped.  
“Is that so?” he asked playfully, “even during work hours?”  
“Especially during work hours,” she replied.  
“I could certainly bend you over my desk, but I do have meetings from time to time,” he answered coyly.  
“Cancel them,” she purred and moved to sit in his lap, straddling him and placing her hands on his chest, “it’s not like you don’t have a valid excuse.”  
“And you, have a valid point,” he replied, running his hands up her legs and taking two hands full of her ass, “besides, Eamon already kind of wanted me to, for safety.”  
“Good enough for me,” she answered and leaned in for a gentle kiss, “you work hard enough as it is, you should be with your _very_ pregnant wife in such a stressful time,” she added playfully.   
“It would be perfectly natural, wouldn’t it?” he whispered and caught her lips in another kiss.

He pulled her closer against him with his hands on her ass while she kissed him back hungrily, her belly gently pressed between them. Alistair let his hands wander up her back to wrap his arms around her and hold her. She leaned into him, loosening the ties of his shirt to get to his skin, where her fingertips ran over the top row of scars left by Flemeth. The skin had remained sensitive there, and her touch send a light tingle down to his abdomen.

Fela could feel a light shiver run through him while she did so and smiled against his lips, moving her other hand to his abdomen to slip it under the loosened fabric of his shirt. Not exactly an easy task, with her own stomach in the way, but she managed. Alistair bucked when she ran her thumb along one of the lower scars gently, making her chuckle through their kiss.

Alistair moved them so Fela was lying back on the sofa and he hovered over her, supported on his elbows and knees. She parted her lips for him when he started kissing her in earnest, teasing his tongue with gentle brushes of her own. He wound one of his hands in her hair to tilt her head back, allowing him access to her throat. She let out a quiet moan when he sank his teeth into her skin, leaving marks. He kissed them gently before moving his lips down her throat and to the tops of her breasts.

Fela ran her hands through his hair as he did so, tugging at it slightly to make him pull back so she could wriggle out of her tunic. Once Alistair realised what she was trying to do, he gladly helped her, and removed her breastband too. He would have gone for her leggings next, were it not that Fela had already started pulling his shirt up over his head. He complied, sitting up a little to pull the offending garment off, only to be pulled down again for a hungry kiss. She dug her fingers into the skin of his shoulders to hold him closer and pressed herself up against him. All soft curves and warmth, trying to envelop him as best she could.

Alistair surrendered himself to it, feeling her writhe against him as her breathing quickened. She was so warm and inviting he wished he could meld into her, anything to be closer, to feel more of her. He let himself get lost in her as she kissed him, teasing along his lips with her tongue and nipping at them with her teeth. He entwined his fingers in her hair with one hand and stroked down her side with the other before grabbing a handful of her ass.

Fela could feel Alistair’s cock press into her thigh, and rolled her hips, making him growl low in his throat. She hummed appreciatively, and rubbed her leg up along his invitingly. He kissed his way along her jawline before nipping at her ear, earning a low moan and a shiver as she bared her neck to him. He continued his way down her neck and back down to her breasts, kissing the tender flesh gently while he moved one hand to loosen the ties of her leggings.

She came to his aid, wriggling her hips as he started pulling them down. His own trousers went next after he had kicked off his boots. By then, Fela had moved to sit on her knees and turned to face away from him. Unless they were in the comfort of their big soft bed, the available positions were limited. On a sofa, the easiest way to do it, was from behind.

Alistair slipped her smalls down her hips, letting them pool around her knees, and took a moment to appreciate her rear in this inviting position. Taking his time to admire her shape by running his hands from the small of her back, along the swell of her hips to firmly squeeze her buttocks.

He ran his fingers along her lower lips, finding her hot and wet. She arched her back and tilted her hips back when he brushed her clit, looking for more contact and giving him more direct access. He teased the little nub with his fingers while he got rid of his own smalls and lined himself up. She looked back at him over her shoulder when he pushed himself inside her and pressed back against him with a quiet moan. He moved his hands to each of her hips, and began to move.

Fela dug her fingers into the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. Alistair moved slow, but rolled his hips just right to hit all the best spots as she moved along with him. Rocking back and forth slightly while gyrating her hips. Alistair leaned over her to kiss the back of her neck and shoulders, his breath hot on her skin. She shook her hair to one side to allow him access to the side of her neck, where he grazed the skin with his teeth before sucking a bruise into it. She let out a delighted squeal at the feeling and purred when he nuzzled her neck.

He straightened to pick up the pace and smacked her ass, making her moan louder and tighten her grip on the sofa. He watched himself disappear with each thrust, revelling in the way her pussy clung to him each time he pulled back. He could see a thin sheen of sweat, glistening on her skin, her breathing was ragged, and her knuckles white with the grip she had on the back of the sofa. Not that he was much better for it, his heart thundered in his chest, the muscles in his legs were drawn taut and he was digging his fingers into Fela’s hips harder than he meant to, leaving bruises.

Fela didn’t mind, feeling pleasure coil inside her and form a tight knot. She pushed herself up, lifting her arms to grasp at Alistair while he wrapped his arms around her to steady her as he kept moving. One arm around her stomach, and one around her chest, playing with one of her swollen breasts.

He had to be gentle with them nowadays. If he squeezed too hard in the right places, he could cause her to lactate. She didn’t particularly like that, as she had made clear the last time it happened. So he squeezed the firm flesh gently, lightly brushing his thumb against her nipple and making her sigh while he nuzzled her neck.

Fela keened at the new angle, tilting back her hips as far as she could to take all of him each time he thrust inside her. She urged him on with needy whispers, and nearly screamed when he moved the arm he had around her stomach and felt his fingers on her clit. Playing with it leisurely while he drove her to incoherent whimpering as he took her. He felt her tense and quiver around him while the heat in his abdomen built up to a sweet ache, begging to be released. It coiled tighter with every thrust and every moan he drew from Fela’s lips.

Fela herself, was lost. Solely occupied with the sensations that tore through her body. Alistair felt so good he made her insides tingle and flutter madly, setting every nerve on fire with pleasure. It made her toes curl and her gut clench, it made her mind swim and tumble while Alistair kept her grounded. He drove her to a high that made her mind go numb. Her body shook as the orgasm tore through her, breaking down into waves that had her gasp and moan wantonly. Alistair bit down on her shoulder as the rippling and tightening of her pussy caused him to go soaring right after her, burying himself deep inside her while he rode out the orgasm.

Fela leaned back against him, letting out a soft chuckle and turning her head to kiss Alistair’s jawline. He kept his arms around her, supporting her while she relaxed into him and turning his head to kiss her back.

“And? Are you entertained?” he whispered against her lips when the kiss broke.  
“Oh yes,” she replied breathlessly, “very much so.”  
“Good,” he whispered in her ear and kissed her cheek, “do you think you can stay out of trouble while I call for a bath?”  
“I think I can manage,” she replied, and moved to stand when he released her and went to find a robe. In the meantime, Alistair quickly dressed and left to find a servant.

After he did that, he also went by the kitchens to get snacks. Fela had been having the strangest cravings lately, especially, for molten cheese. She had come up with all kinds of ideas to make dishes with molten cheese and asked the kitchen staff to experiment with those, and some of them were actually really good.

To his delight, the staff had started experimenting with all kinds of cheese after Maia had discovered Fela in the kitchen in the middle of the night, roasting pieces of bread with thin slices of cheese on them on a grate over the glowing coals of the fireplace. The smell had awoken Maia, who was curious about what smelled so good and went to investigate. Fela, being Fela, had ended up trying out all kinds of combinations throughout the night and tasting them with Maia. When morning came, she had surprised Alistair with a grilled cheese breakfast in bed. Who had agreed that this was an area of cuisine that needed to be investigated further. Meaning; he fucking loved it and wanted more grilled cheese.

He came back to their quarters with a large plate stacked with a variety of snacks, where he found Fela curled up on the sofa with Asher, dozing off in front of the fire. Food got her attention though, as it always did.

Despite the circumstances, Fela was glad to spend an evening as just Alistair’s wife. Not as the Queen of Ferelden, not as Commander of the Grey, not as Alessa of Amaranthine, and nobody’s bloody ‘hero.’ Just a woman who was married to a man she loved so deeply that he had become a part of her being.

Essentially, she spent the evening on a fluffy, pink cloud of endorphins, and Alistair gladly joined her there.

* * *

“You’re back,” Oswyn said with a broad smile, “and in one piece too I see, very good.”   
“Crows are reasonable folk,” Zevran replied smoothly, “with the right incentive of course.”  
“Ah, and that would be gold, I presume,” Oswyn replied.   
“Amongst other things,” Zevran said coyly, “this time it was the severed head of their Master, Crows don’t like to die for nothing you know.”  
“That… makes sense,” Oswyn replied and looked at Fergus, “you’re looking a little bloody there mate.”  
“I’m fine,” he said and waved the comment off.   
“Let me get you a healer to check on you,” Oswyn insisted, “at the very least to clean those busted knuckles.”   
“That’s very kind of you Oswyn, but I’d rather get back to Denerim as soon as possible,” Fergus replied and inspected the damage, “it’s not so bad.”

That, was a lie.

When Fergus attacked Clemente, he had let go for a moment and indulged the violent side he shared with his sister. Though she indulged it a lot more than he did, and she had better control because of that.

As a result, he had been punching Clemente hard enough to injure his own hands. His right hand was black, blue, and bloodied, the knuckles had swollen to twice their size and his left didn’t look much better. It was quite possible he had broken his hand on the man’s face, but since a broken hand wouldn’t hinder him from getting back to Denerim, he didn’t feel like addressing the issue right now. He had a little sister to protect.

“Your friend has a point amigo,” Zevran said in velvety tones, “and there is no harm in spending a night in this fine city. Our dearest Fela can look after herself.”  
“I think she would like to know Clemente is dead sooner rather than later,” Fergus countered.   
“And I think she wouldn’t demand you lose any sleep over it,” Zevran replied, “she can take care of herself for another day. Besides, she’s with Alistair, she’s safe.” Fergus sighed and shook his head.  
“Fine, but if we come back to Denerim to discover she has decorated the city walls with more crows from Clemente’s cell, I’m holding you responsible.”   
“I can live with that,” Zevran quipped.

“Then it’s decided,” Oswyn said jovially, “we’ll be your hosts for the evening, and I simply _must_ look after my guest’s wellbeing.” Meaning, a healer was already being called, as well as people to get them food, drink, and whatever else they might need. It was late, and getting back on the road straight away wasn’t necessary now that the threat had been dealt with.

Well, part of the threat.

According to Zevran, it would take a while for Clemente’s cell to recover. Though by the time it recovered it wouldn’t be Clemente’s cell anymore, and unless the new Master intended to pick up where Clemente left off, meaning making a mortal enemy out of the Ferelden Monarchs, he didn’t expect them to try and go after Fela, or Alistair, a third time. Not after the last attack failed and she retaliated, hard. The first, had resulted in the Crow in question joining her and swearing an oath of loyalty. Which was equally embarrassing, for an assassins guild.

So, Fergus submitted himself to the healer when she arrived, and let her take care of his hands. His nose, while it had been bleeding profusely after Clemente had his head slammed into it, wasn’t broken. Just sore. She fixed up the stab wounds from the letter opener and the pen too. Apart from that, he had some scrapes and bruises, but nothing major. Which was why he didn’t want to bother with it in the first place, but he had to admit he felt a lot better.

Just because he had wanted to postpone tending to his broken hand, didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Like fuck too.

They spent the night at Dragon’s Peak Castle, and left early the next day. If they kept pace, they could be back in Denerim before nightfall and save themselves a night of camping. Both men would rather avoid sleeping in the dirt, they preferred featherbeds, if at all possible. For Fergus, luxury was simply what he was used to. For Zevran, it was something hard earned. And he had made a good point when he said Fela could take care of herself and that Alistair would be watching over her. Asher too.

The sun was beginning to set when they reached Denerim the next day, and proceeded to the palace.

Fergus went to find his sister straight away. While he trusted her, and he trusted Alistair, he had been worried about her. Both of them were nearly unstoppable in a fight, they were a two man army if Zevran was to be believed, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get hurt. Just because the baby was still _inside_ Fela didn’t mean it couldn’t be harmed.

Zevran naturally followed, Fergus or no Fergus, he needed to make sure his friends were alright. While he may have felt that it was fine to spend a night in Dragon’s Peak, he still felt the urge to confirm they were alive and in good health. He didn’t even negotiate a price to take out Clemente, he straight up offered to do it for free. He had no doubt Fela would have been fine with paying him, but gold was not the reason he did this. He cared for them, deeply. And he would gladly kill anyone who posed a threat to their wellbeing. The main reason he had not been filtering the nobility for this purpose was that Fela asked him not to. Bann Esmerelle, for example, or Bann Ceorlic. And they should have killed Anora as soon as the Archdemon was dead.

But, the past could not be changed. So Zevran contented himself with the idea that the mistake of letting Anora live was being fixed. Late was still better than never.

They announced themselves before entering Fela and Alistair’s chambers. And a good thing too. Or they would have walked in on Fela sprawled out on the sofa with Alistair’s head between her legs. At first, Fela had yelled ‘not now!’ but when it was Fergus who answered, she changed her mind. As it was, the pair straightened themselves out before Zevran and Fergus came in.

“Welcome back,” Fela said with a wide grin as they entered, “how was your trip?”  
“Fruitful,” Fergus replied brightly, “Master Clemente is dead.”  
“Yeah? What did you do to him?” she asked.   
“Long story, but in the end Zevran cut his head off, so we’re quite sure he is dead properly,” Fergus replied with a shrug. At this, Fela arched an eyebrow and looked at Zevran.   
“Like he said, it’s a long story,” the assassin said and sat down across from the slightly flushed pregnant woman, knowing full well what they had interrupted. Zevran had sensitive ears.   
“So why don’t you start telling it?” Alistair said and put his feet up next to Fela’s.

“First things first,” Fergus said sat down next to Zevran, “how are you holding up.”  
“Just fine Fergus,” Fela said reassuringly, “all I did was have a chat with Anora, and Alistair insisted she be chained to a chair, so,” she shrugged, “not all that exciting.”  
“Look at you, being all responsible and not getting into another slaughter,” he replied with a lopsided grin.   
“I had to start some time,” she said offhandedly.   
“And the baby?” Zevran asked.  
“Alive and kicking, literally,” she replied and placed a hand on her stomach, “really, we’re fine, there were no more attacks and we stayed in the palace with a ridiculous amount of guards surrounding us. Just as we promised.”  
“You didn’t stab anyone?” Fergus asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“Nope.”  
“Good.”

“Is it just me, or is that baby kicking a _lot_ more than average?” Zevran said slowly.   
“That’s not just you,” Fela replied softly, “but it’s a sign of good health, we’re good.”  
“She’s right,” Fergus said, “when the baby stops kicking, is when you get worried.”  
“At the rate he’s been going, not gonna happen,” Fela replied casually, “and it’s not necessarily painful or anything, it’s just that practice makes perfect.”  
“You can actually see the movements sometimes,” Alistair added, “it’s like he’s already here a little.”  
“In a way, just still inside,” Fela replied, “now, go rest up and tell me about Clemente later. I’m going by the compound to let them know the lock down is over.”  
“You don’t have to go personally for _every_ message you have for them,” Fergus said with a roll of his eyes.   
“And you, reek of old blood,” Fela countered crisply, “while I may be accustomed to that smell, I don’t particularly enjoy it.”  
“You can smell that from way over there?” Zevran asked curiously.   
“Yes, I can also smell dirt and leaves under your boots, the smell of leather from the saddles you sat in, your sweat, a little hay, and the distinct smell of horse,” she summed up, “so go wash up already, I won’t be long.”  
“She makes a good offer,” Zevran said and rose, “and I was rather looking forward to a bath.”  
“Alright then,” Fergus replied and followed Zevran’s example, “see you later, Fae, Alistair.”

Fela got up as soon as the door closed, wearing a wide smile and moving to strap on her weapons.  
“Hey, where are you going?” Alistair asked when she rose.  
“The compound,” she repeated.  
“Come back,” he said playfully and patted the free space next to him.  
“Looking to finish what you started?” she replied with a small smile, and slowly put her rapiers back on their weapon rack.  
“You’re not going anywhere until I do,” he replied matter-of-factly.  
“Is that right?” she purred, but made no move towards him.  
“I command it,” he said and leaned back, “now, lock the door and come back here.”  
“Aren’t you bossy today,” Fela observed with a smirk and did as he asked.

Alistair watched as she turned the lock on the door, and moved towards him.   
“You didn’t think I would just let you leave, did you?” Alistair said in a chiding tone.   
“Should I have asked you to come along?” she teased.  
“You should have sent a runner.”  
“Did I offend, your Highness?”  
“I don’t think I like your tone.”

Alistair placed his hands on Fela’s hips when she came within reach, pulling her back onto the sofa with him.

“I would hate to displease you, your Highness,” Fela purred and leisurely started to loosen the ties on his shirt.  
“Still with the tone,” he replied in a dangerously low voice.  
Fela chuckled, and teased the exposed skin of his chest with her fingertips, “should I stop talking?”  
“Just get on your knees woman.”

His words had the desired effect. Fela felt a rush of heat between her thighs and bit her lip as she obeyed the order. Alistair moved to stand behind her, wasting no time before pulling Fela’s leggings down her hips and smacking her ass. The pleasured little cry that he drew from her lips made his cock twitch in its confines. So he did it again, and again, and again, and again until he couldn’t wait any longer.

With her leggings still around her thighs, Fela had no way of spreading her legs. So he had her bend over a little further and lined himself up. The sound she made when he pushed inside her was almost obscene. With her legs together like that, the pressure of his cock on her inner walls made her tingle with pleasure and made her toes curl. It felt so good she threw her head back and arched her spine to push back against him until he couldn’t go any deeper.

Then he started moving, and she moaned helplessly, holding onto the back of the sofa for support. He kept his hands on her hips, digging his fingers into the pliant flesh as he watched her, caught up in the sensations he was eliciting from her body. Alistair could see it plainly, he could hear it in her voice and feel it in the way she moved. The muscles in her legs were drawn taut, at the same time looking for relief from the overwhelming sensations and aching for more of it. Her fingers were digging into the sofa so hard that her knuckles had turned white and she was clenching her jaw. Clearly, this was a position that warranted repeating.

He leaned over her to kiss the back of her neck and nuzzle the skin behind her ear. Moving one hand under her tunic and up to one of her breasts, gently kneading the soft flesh as much for her pleasure as his own. He couldn’t fully cup them with his hands anymore, in this position, he could feel the full weight of her breast in his hand. It made a kind of electric pleasure shoot through him, the kind that made him want to bite her, suck bruises into her skin, leave marks on her that only he would know about. Marks that made her his.

She was still mostly dressed however, so there wasn’t much exposed skin within reach. He reined in the sudden desire to devour her, though not entirely, and straightened to fuck her in earnest.

“Yes,” Fela panted wantonly when Alistair rolled his hips and smacked her ass, “ _oh,_ yes, just like that.” Alistair chuckled to himself, and brought his palm down on the reddened flesh of her ass again to draw a high-pitched cry from her lips.   
“Tell me how you want it,” he demanded.   
“Deeper,” she answered, so he complied. He took firm hold of her hips, pulling her back against himself as he pushed forward. He kept her there, going as deep as he possibly could with each thrust. Fela pushed back against him just as urgently, wishing she could take more of him, _feel_ more of him. And then she felt his thumb against her asshole.

Fela cast a look over her shoulder to watch Alistair move. He met her eyes with a darkened gaze that made her insides flutter wildly. She held it, moving one hand between her thighs to rub her clit. With her legs held together like that, she didn’t have much freedom of movement. But all she really needed was one finger, the pressure of her own flesh did the rest.

Alistair could feel her tighten around his cock. He smiled to himself, and pushed his thumb inside her asshole.

She nearly screamed at the sensory overload of pleasure, and was forced to break eye contact when she threw her head back. Another slap on her ass made her whimper, and then she was well and truly lost. Building towards an orgasm that made her heart skip two beats before resuming its mad thundering in her chest. Her breath caught, her voice failed, and her vision went blank. Briefly erasing all other thought while her mind was solely occupied with the sweet torture of the last build up before the peak. She moaned uncontrollably when she reached it and crashed down into release.

Alistair felt her come, the way she clamped and fluttered around his cock had him grip her tighter as he plunged into her, chasing his own peak. Meanwhile Fela braced herself to ride out her own orgasm and take the last of Alistair’s thrusts before she felt him swell and release quick bursts of seed. The low groan he produced send a shiver down her spine.

Alistair leaned over Fela to catch his breath, nuzzling the back of her neck. Meanwhile she smiled stupidly without being aware of it, closing her eyes to savour the moment. Alistair breathed in her scent. She had worked up a little sweat, mixed with the smell of sex. If he had thought she smelled good after sex during the Blight, she smelled heavenly now. The lack of a few days-worth of blood and gore was a big improvement. Though underneath, she always still smelled like she did now, like _her._

“ _God,_ I love you,” she whispered, earning a soft chuckle in her ear.   
“I love you too,” he replied, kissed the shell of her ear, rose, and pulled out.   
“Could you get me a towel?”  
“Sure.”

Fela stayed where she was, closing her eyes and resting her forehead on her arms as she let herself drift on the calm after the storm. She didn’t open her eyes until she felt the towel Alistair had tossed her way land on her head. She pulled it off lazily and shot Alistair an amused grin before getting on with the process of cleaning up.

Meanwhile Alistair poured two cups of water, downed one and gave the other to Fela, who took it gladly and followed his example. She licked her lips and smiled up at him.  
“Am I allowed to go to the compound now, your Highness?” she asked playfully, earning a chuckle.  
“You may return to your duties, Commander,” he replied formally. Fela smiled wider, moving in close to kiss him.

She was too big to simply approach him from the front now. So she kind of had to go in sideways, so her side was against his front. They had to turn their heads a bit, but it still fully allowed Alistair to wrap his arms around her and pull her close while she had one arm around him and the hand of her other arm on his cheek. It allowed them to melt into each other while Fela kissed Alistair breathless.

“I do love this game,” she whispered and placed a final kiss on his chin.  
“Good,” he replied, “so do I.” He kissed her forehead before releasing her.  
“I won’t be long,” she promised.   
“I’ll stay here and… relax, I guess,” he replied with a smile.  
“I’d say you’ve earned it,” she replied and strapped on her weapons.   
“Glad to know I’ve satisfied my wife,” he quipped.   
“As if there was any doubt of that,” Fela countered and flashed a coy smile.  
“Nah, I’d have to be deaf and blind to doubt that,” he answered and got comfortable on the sofa.  
“Actually, no, I think I still would have felt it,” he added thoughtfully, “I would have to be dead to doubt it then.”   
“Yeah, you just sit there and feel good about yourself,” Fela said with an amused smirk.  
“Will do,” he answered lightly.   
“Alright, I’ll be back soon. Asher, here boy!”

Asher followed his mistress happily. He had understood completely when Zevran and Fergus had dropped by to let them know Clemente was dead. Didn’t mean he thought everything was peachy now though, he was smarter than that. It was his job, as the Mabari, to be ever vigilant, and Asher took that job quite seriously. But you could be happy and vigilant at the same time as far as Asher was concerned, now that the people who had ordered the hit on his human had been dealt with. He could rip out throats happily too. And since his human had been cooped up in her chambers, so had he. For a big, energetic hound like Asher, that was less than pleasant and the prospect of having a walk was a relief if he were honest. So he gave his human a wide doggy grin as he trudged alongside her, and wagged his tail excitedly.

Fela, was doing the human equivalent of wagging her tail. Mostly she was just happy to be out. She loved Alistair, and his company had made the isolation of the past few days bearable, but being stuck in their chambers for days was no picknick. She’d been itching to get out, and now that she was, she couldn’t keep the grin down. Which in turn, lead to many smiles and nods in return. The guard and the servants seemed happy to see their Queen roaming the Palace again, Fela noted. That made her grin even wider, if they were happy to see her, she had been doing something right. So it was, that Fela arrived at the compound in high spirits.

The extra guards she had posted there bowed politely upon her approach.   
“Gentlemen,” Fela said with a polite nod in recognition, “good to see you.”  
“And you, your Grace,” replied their captain.  
“Did anything exciting happen in my absence?” she asked with a wide smile.   
“No, your Grace, there have been no disturbances,” he replied and returned the smile somewhat shyly.   
“Good,” Fela answered, “the situation should be under control now, Warden Stroud will give you your new orders after I speak to him.”  
“Understood, your Grace.”  
“Thank you captain, as you were.”

Fela had barely taken three steps into the entry hall when Juno rounded a corner at top speed and came to an abrupt halt in front of her.

“Commander,” she said with poorly concealed excitement, “good to see you, you look well.”  
“Good to see you too,” answered with an amused smile.  
“Besides Asher I don’t see any extra guards, does that mean you have good news?” Juno asked in a more serious tone. Fela quirked her head at that, there was relief underlying that question. Juno had been worried.   
“I do,” she said reassuringly, “it’s taken care of.”  
“What do you mean?”

“She means the Crow who ordered the hit and Anora have been dealt with,” came Daena’s voice from the other end of the hall, “which I’m fairly certain means they are dead,” the last bit was added with a satisfied undertone. She approached in a more controlled manner than Juno had, and looked Fela over for a moment, “are you alright?”  
“Of course I am,” Fela said with a smile, “I’ve got the biggest, baddest, hound in Thedas and a husband like an angry, protective bear,” she patted Asher on his head appreciatively, “it would take a ridiculous amount of crows to get through them. Now, help me find Stroud, I need to speak to him and then I’ll answer all your questions.”

Both women nodded and escorted Fela to Stroud’s office, promising her they would be in the common room. Stroud made little effort to hide his relief when Fela stepped into his office, standing to approach and look her over.

“Welcome back, Commander,” he said politely and gave her an inquisitive look, “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”  
“Zevran and Fergus work fast,” Fela replied.  
“The Crows have been dealt with then?” Stroud asked, though he already knew the answer. Fela came alone, she wouldn’t have done that if the threat remained.  
“The Master of the cell that executed the hit has been dealt with, yes,” Fela explained, “they cut off the snake’s head, so to speak.”  
“And Anora?”  
“Awaiting her execution,” Fela said crisply.   
“That’s it?” Stroud asked with a strange look.  
“That’s it,” she affirmed, “there was a little more to it than looking up this particular Crow’s address, mind you. But you can rest assured the Crows will no longer be accepting any contracts on Ferelden Grey Wardens.”

“Is this a ‘ask no questions and I shall tell no lies’ kind of thing?” Stroud asked   
“Not at all, I have entered a formal agreement with Master Ignacio, you may remember the name from my log,” Fela replied.   
“What is he getting out of it?” Stroud asked.   
“I won’t annihilate him and his cell so long as he is of use to me, so I’d say survival,” Fela replied with a shrug.   
“How would you get lift like that on a Crow?”  
“He knew about the attack beforehand and chose not to warn me,” Fela answered, “and that’s about all the lift I needed.”  
“Why would you expect a Crow to warn you?” Stroud asked with a confused shake of his head.  
“Professional courtesy,” Fela said and moved to sit in a chair, “and because it is in his best interest that I remain where I am.”  
“So why didn’t he warn you in the first place?” Stroud asked.

“I suspect, he was counting on me to go after whoever was behind the attack. Not dealing with the problem wasn’t an option, and I guess he was Ignacio’s problem too. That, and Ignacio has a much better grasp of what I am capable of than most others do,” Fela explained, “if he had thought the attack might succeed, I don’t think he would have stood by. And that has nothing to do with my charming personality as far as Ignacio is concerned.”  
“So he gets you involved in some kind of conflict within the Crows, and has you fix the problem for him,” Stroud replied with a frown.  
“Well, when you put it _that_ way it sounds rather silly doesn’t it?” Fela said lightly, “but I am getting more out of it than a nullified contract. Ignacio is aware he is getting off with a warning, for which, I have two reasons. One; I now have him at my back and call, I can easily have him removed if he doesn’t cooperate. Two; he has some _very_ interesting resources I can use, both as Queen of Ferelden and Commander of the Grey. Resources I wouldn’t have easy access to without Ignacio. Besides that, he identified the cell for me, once I had him dragged to the Palace. Asked me if I had gotten a look at the brand and asked me to draw it for him, no unpleasantness required. It would have taken a while longer if he had not told me where to find my target, which allowed for a quick response.”

“What if Ignacio is not on the winning side?” Stroud asked slowly.  
“Then I will find someone more agreeable to work with, if that doesn’t work, I will systematically start taking down cells until they are ready to work with me,” Fela said flatly, “if you want to make an ally out of a Crow, you have to beat him first, soundly.”   
“You certainly don’t see to have any problems doing that,” Stroud replied and sat down in the chair next to her.

“What about Anora?” Stroud asked after a brief silence.  
“What about her?” Fela asked.   
“If she is the one that ordered the attack, wouldn’t it be safe to assume she has some kind of ally outside of the palace?” Stroud clarified, Fela responded with a chuckle.   
“That’s the thing,” Fela said, “she doesn’t. She lashed out because I took everything she loved from her. And she knew full well that she would be done if the Crows did not manage to take out both Alistair and me. Maybe she figured I would be more vulnerable, and removing me would be the surest way to hurt Alistair. Barring that, she may have hoped to cause a miscarriage. It was a purely destructive move.”  
“Someone must have delivered messages between her and the Crows,” Stroud said, “and if I’m honest, I think it most likely it was one of Ignacio’s Crows.”  
“Possibly,” Fela replied, “it may have even been his idea.”  
“That would mean he is willing to put you in danger for his own personal gain,” Stroud pointed out, “do you really want to work with a man like that?”  
“If I believed he knew someone who could offer the same things I can, no,” Fela admitted, “and making an enemy out of me now would cost him his life. He took a great risk by not warning me of the danger, hoping to create an opportunity. Now that he has seized upon it, he won’t risk what he has just won.”

“So… all of this… might have just been a territory war between two Masters?”  
“Anora was never a player, she was a pawn,” Fela said with a nod.   
“And now you can remove her indefinitely.”  
“Yes,” Fela said with a nod, “Ignacio wins, I win, simple as that.”  
“Well then,” Stroud said “I suppose that concludes the lock-down. You would have done well in Orlais.”  
“As a bard, you mean?” Fela asked.  
“Or at court,” Stroud nodded, “the two aren’t mutually exclusive.”  
“True, thank you,” Fela said politely.   
“My pleasure.”

“How have things been around here?” Fela asked idly.  
“As you’d expect,” Stroud replied, “since you were kind enough to station palace guards here at the compound, we felt it was safe to continue training. It kept our current structure in place and it kept us occupied. It also kept all the recruits in one place where we could watch them for most of the day,” he added.  
“Smart,” Fela replied, “less chance of them getting up to something.”  
“Especially Daena and Juno,” Stroud said with a nod, “they seemed to take the attack on you personally.” Fela smiled a little at that, she had a feeling she knew why Daena and Juno would feel that way, but she wasn’t about to share that with Stroud.

“They are simply looking out for me, no more than I would for them,” she said off-handedly, “I wouldn’t worry too much about them trying anything stupid.”  
“I have a feeling it goes a bit further than professional loyalty, but I’ll take your word for it.”  
“Wasn’t it your idea to form a tight core to work with?”  
“Such brilliance can only have been yours,” Stroud replied playfully.  
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?”  
“I wouldn’t know what you are talking about, Commander.”  
“Sure, be like that,” Fela said with a lopsided smile, “anyway, I’m leaving the decision to dismiss or keep the extra guards to you. They are expecting your orders.”  
“Very well, I will see to it.”  
“Now, I promised Juno and Daena to answer some questions,” Fela said and stood, “so I’d better head on to the common room before they can think of a ton of them.” Stroud chuckled at that, and started gathering pen and paper to write a report of recent events.   
“Certainly, Commander,” he said with a polite nod and Fela left the office.

As expected, she didn’t just find Daena and Juno in the common room. Nate, Dan, and Rory were there too. All of them quite eager to hear the explanation behind the lock-down and how it got resolved. It took her longer than she’d initially planned, so by the time she and Asher made it back to the royal wing, Zevran, Fergus, and Alistair were well on their way to getting drunk while Zevran gave a dramatic retelling of the slaying of Master Clemente.

Apparently, Fergus had gone full on big brother and beat the Master Assassin to a pulp. An impressive feat. Master Assassins were no joke. But Fergus had managed to overwhelm Clemente early on. If he hadn’t pulled Clemente across his own desk, he probably would have grabbed at least one of the daggers hidden under it. But even unarmed, taking down a Master Assassin was no easy job. Years of experience on Clemente’s part, made him a dangerous enemy, especially if you were trying to kill each other. However, as Zevran pointed out, assassins tended to strike from the shadows and maximise their first blow. Clemente never had that chance with Fergus. Then again, Fergus was no push over, he had Clemente beat in size and strength, and he had been enraged to a point that his vision blurred red at the edges. And he could hardly be called inexperienced in a fight.

Fergus himself was quite stoic about the whole thing, simply stating that Clemente wasn’t all that impressive. To which Zevran stated that Fergus was _quite_ impressive and called for more drinks. Fela stuck to apple draw, content to watch the men slowly get drunk as the afternoon progressed.

“Ooh, Fae, you should tell that story about that time you broke Wild Cat out of jail,” Fergus said excitedly, looking at his sister with a watery squint.   
“You _what!?_ ” Alistair laughed.   
“She got herself arrested,” Fela shrugged.  
“Why? What’d she do?” Zevran asked curiously.   
“She beat some rich merchant’s son with his own cane,” Fela replied with a small smile, “he was beating a child, begging at a street corner, for getting dirt on his coattail. Wild Cat saw it happen and decided to do something about it.”  
“And you just decided to bust her out of jail?” Zevran asked in an amused tone.  
“Well I couldn’t just leave her there, she was my friend,” Fela said lightly, “and she was right to beat some sense into that little shit.”  
“Well, now you _have_ to tell it,” Alistair said crisply, “and here I thought Fort Drakon was your first prison break.”  
“It was my first time waking up nearly naked in a cell,” she shrugged.  
“I thought we had something special,” Alistair replied slightly petulantly.  
“Oh, honey,” she said soothingly, “we have plenty.” Fergus rolled his eyes in response.  
“Just get to the story,” he said, “I don’t want to know.”

“Fine, fine,” Fela said, “calm down, princess. I was nineteen I think, and by then I had realised Wild Cat did not earn her living through strictly legal means. Aside from the initial horse-robbing of course. You have to understand, Highever is a big city. It wasn’t all happy people earning an honest living, large concentrations of people just naturally attracts certain folk, shady moneylenders, thieves, conmen, and worse. They, in turn, attract desperate folk. So every city eventually ends up with a ‘beaten side of town.’ And that’s where Wild Cat grew up. Alone. Besides whoring herself out, she had few opportunities to make any money. So, when she saw one, she took it. Didn’t mean she was a bad sort, quite the opposite in fact, but good people sometimes do bad things if that’s what it takes to survive. Wild Cat was one of those people.”

“One day, as she is looking for pockets to pick, she spots a rich looking man walking down the street. Richly dyed velvet, veal skin boots, rings on his fingers, young lady on his arm. And a cane. For show, he didn’t need it to walk, it had this silver lion’s head mounted on it, and a metal tip. She follows them around for a bit, Wild Cat figured he could be a lucrative target and worth following home. Or where ever he was staying. If they have a lot in their pockets, they have even more in their homes. If it turned out to be nothing, she could still pick his pocket. But she’d take a break-in over picking pockets any day, simply because the reward was higher.

Just as they are about to leave the market, a young girl sitting at a street corner asks him for a copper. He initially ignores her, but the lady he has with him doesn’t, and gives her a silver instead. The girl is dumbfounded, a silver might as well be a fortune to a homeless orphan. Imagine asking for something and receiving a hundred times what you asked for. Think of how many meals that could buy for a child. So she is standing there, staring at the coin in her hand. An older boy sees it, snatches it from her hand, and throws her to the ground before taking off. She lands in a puddle of mud, and some splatter gets on the rich man’s coat tails.

Now, in his mind, the girl has put him in an awkward position. She asked him for money, and when he refused, his female companion gave it to her anyway. Worse, she gave the girl more than she asked for. And he feels like an idiot. As Fergus and I know, when you are born rich, feeling like an idiot means you have to defend your ego by making someone else feel worse than you do. So that’s what he did. He got mud on his coat tails because the girl landed in the puddle, so now he feels he has a reason.

He hits her before she even manages to get back on her feet, knocking her back down into the puddle. But he doesn’t leave it at that, the woman who was with him tried to stop him, but he gave her a shove and just went right on beating a little girl, lying on the ground. That’s when Wild Cat stepped in.

Kicked him in the balls from behind, yanked the cane out of his hand, and treated him to some of his own medicine. I hear she took a swing like she was trying to knock his head clean off when he was kneeling and holding his crotch.

Anyway, by now guards have come running, attracted by all the ruckus, and Wild Cat bolts. She said they chased her halfway across the city before they caught her. Apparently she slipped on a loose roof tile and fell off the roof. They grabbed her when she was dazed from the fall. They arrested her, and threw her in jail for assault. She was actually lucky it was just one broken tile, the rest of them stayed put. Normally when a tile comes loose the whole lot of them comes cascading down. Imagine being underneath that.

By the time I figured out what had happened, she had been in jail for nearly a week. I wasn’t there to witness it, but I eventually found someone who did. They had seen her run away, and that was the last anyone heard of her. At first, I thought she might be lying low. But when I couldn’t find her at any of her regular hide outs, I decided to check with the city guard. And sure enough, they had recently arrested a young woman for assault with a cane. That could only be Wild Cat.

I asked our father for help first, but since there had been numerous witnesses, and since she _did_ assault a man, he couldn’t do anything. Not in good conscious anyway, but I don’t blame him for not bending the rules just because his daughter asked him. I tried some of Wild Cat’s friends next, but they weren’t willing to risk getting caught themselves.

So, I decided I would take care of it myself. First thing I did was bribe my way to the right people. I needed someone who knew where, precisely, she was being held. Then I had to figure out how to get in, and the easiest way to do that, was to dress up as one of the guards. But I needed a uniform first, and that took some doing.

I had to find one who was off duty first, so I went to the Inn nearest the guard station. Ordered a drink, looked around for a bit to find the drunkest one, and got him drunker. _A lot_ drunker. I paid the innkeep to add shots of rum to his brandy, so all I really had to do was bat my eyelashes and keep him talking, and the longer he talked, the more he drank. By the time he was drunk enough, I send him to get a room and wait for me there. After about forty-five minutes of waiting and more drinking, he had fallen asleep.

With the guard in a booze-coma, I was able to take his uniform without knocking anybody out by force. I figured I should keep it as clean as I could. If you knock out a guard, and he wakes up twenty minutes later, he’ll raise an alarm, missing uniform or no. This guy, wouldn’t remember anything of the sort. He’d sleep off the haze of alcohol and curse himself for falling asleep before getting laid, nothing more.

After that, I went to the station where they were holding her, and walked in behind a couple of other guards. They might recognise me if they really took a look, so I didn’t want to give them any reason to. As it was, I found Wild Cat without too much trouble. Mostly because she was shouting at some other guards how the guy she beat up should be the one in there.

“Calm down already! You keep this up and we’ll bind and gag you!”   
“Fuck you! I’m not the one beating up a child! Why isn’t that bitch ass child beater not in here with me, huh!?” And that was Wild Cat right there, probably arguing with a guard.  
“I’m warning you!”  
“Yeah? You’re gonna come in here, are ya, big guy!? Come on then! Little bitch! Come get some!” _Definitely_ Wild Cat.   
"Last warning!"  
"Good! Come on in here, see how that goes, I'm gonna eat you alive!"  
“Shut the fuck up!”  
“ _You_ shut the fuck up!”

“Alright, both of you shut up,” came a third voice, “you, back to your post, and you, one more peep out of you and you can forget about any meals for the next few days until you’ve calmed down properly!”  
“Yes sir,” the first voice replied and was followed by footsteps leading away.   
“Little punk ass bitch,” Wild Cat groused.  
“That’s it, you’re fasting.”  
“Oh _come on!_ ”  
“I said ‘one more peep,’ didn’t I? Welcome to jail honey, you misbehave, you don’t eat.” And with that another set of footsteps slowly faded away. I waited thirty seconds before approaching Wild Cat’s cell, and immediately, she started to try and lure me closer.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” she said quietly, “look, you have to listen to me, I’m a friend of Fela Cousland.”  
“Oh, I know,” I replied and stepped into the light of the torch.  
“Bitch Face!” she hissed excitedly, grasping the bars and looking up at me with eyes full of mirth.  
“Hey, dummy.”  
“You have to get me out!”  
“I know, I know, be quiet,” I said and got started on the lock of her cell.

“How did you find me?”  
“I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy…” I replied, “you didn’t make yourself easy to find.”  
“Yeah, took you long enough,” she groused.  
“Hush, I’m breaking you out of here, aren’t I?”  
“And I’ll break your ass out of jail any time Bitch Face, but right now you need to hurry up.”

“I’m not about to get myself arrested for assault in broad daylight.”  
“He was beating a little kid with his _cane!_ ”  
“Yeah, but you could have stopped him first and taken him somewhere more quiet!”  
“Who made _you_ a professional?”  
“ _Common_ _sense_ , Wild Cat, common _fucking_ sense!”  
“Yeah, can I buy that shit anywhere? Or is it more of a live and learn kind of thing?”  
“Ugh, just, shut up,” I said with a shake of my head and finally pried the lock on her cell open.

She leapt out of the cell and straight into my arms when I opened the door and kissed my cheek.  
“Thanks,” she whispered, “you nut.”  
“Thank me when we’re outside,” I replied, “I think I hear another more guards.”  
“Obviously, which is why I was telling you to hurry up,” she answered and moved to peer around a corner, “think you can distract them?”  
“How?”  
“I don’t know, tell them they’re playing wicked grace in the mess or something.”  
“Right.”

“Hey guys!” I said and waved as I stepped around the corner.  
“Uh, hey,” one of three men replied. A young one, who I guessed had a pretty good chance of not knowing me, lucky.  
“They got you guys on snooze duty, huh? Not like there is any prisoners escaping,” I said with as charming a smile as I could manage.  
“Well, it’s better than night patrol at the docks,” he shrugged, “what about you?”  
“I just got off duty,” I said, “fucker who came to relieve me was late.”  
“Skinny fellow, brown hair, squinty eyes, chews elfroot all day?” he asked knowingly.  
“Yeah, that guy, how is it he never shows up on time?” I replied.   
“That’s Olsen,” the guard said, “he only works here because his uncle is a sergeant.”  
“Well, I covered nearly half this asshole’s shift before he finally showed up, but at least I hear there is a game of wicked grace going in the mess hall,” I replied, “and all this overtime makes my purse heavy. You should come by when you get off, if you’d like to ‘play.’”  
“I- will, eh, certainly,” he said, a little flustered.   
“I’ll see you there then,” I purred and gave him a meaningful look as I passed him by.

I didn’t go to the mess hall of course, I hid in a niche. It took about five minutes before they had decided that there were indeed no prisoners escaping and they would much prefer wicked grace and a pretty girl over snooze duty. Wild Cat followed right behind.

“Nice, men are just _stupid_ for you,” she said playfully, and headed down the corridor and towards the barracks.  
“Where are you going? The exit is _that_ way,” I whispered as I followed her.  
“I can’t just walk out like this, can I? I need some clothes first,” she whispered back.   
“Hang on, wouldn’t it be easier if I walked in there, got you some, and brought them back to you? There’s a lot of guards stationed here.”  
“Oh shit,” she giggled, “that _is_ easier, let’s do that, private Bitch Face.”  
“Eat a dick.”

I may have looked like a guard, but there would probably be a lot actual guards in the barracks. And chances of running into one that _would_ recognise the Theyrn’s youngest were much higher. It was about three in the morning though, so I could probably justify some light sneaking. Many of them would be asleep. You didn’t want to wake your hardworking colleagues by trudging through the hall like a frisky bronto, after all.

I snuck into the first room that had no people in it, and went straight for the first wardrobe I saw. In it, I found pants, a shirt, and boots. I wasn’t sure they would fit Wild Cat, but we could hardly take the time to try on different outfits. So I snatched a coat that looked about Wild Cat’s size, and hoped it would hide anything too ill-fitting. I got lucky there, I realise that. I mean, you don’t usually expect to find an extra pair of boots in a city guard’s wardrobe, why buy your own boots if the city gives you free ones with your uniform? They all had civilian’s clothes though, and they didn’t wear those under their uniforms.

When I returned to Wild Cat, she inspected the clothes I brought with a critical eye.   
“Well, at least they’re better than what I’m wearing now,” she said with a shrug, and stripped off the rags she was currently wearing. She had barely pulled the pants up before we heard more footsteps. The only thing I could think of, was hiding Wild Cat’s face. She had probably been screaming and yelling at every guard that passed by over the last week, they would recognise her if they saw her. And in a moment of wild panic, I grabbed her head and cradled it against my chest right when another pair of guards rounded a corner. She struggled at first, but stopped when she heard a voice.

“Wow,” one laughed when he saw me cradling a half-naked girl against my chest, “don’t let us disturb you ladies, unless, you’re open to having an audience?”  
“ _What!? No!_ ” I snapped, unable to think of anything else to say. And it was still an appropriate response so, not bad, in my opinion.  
“Well, take it to the barracks then,” said the other with an amused grin, “we’re off to the mess hall, they’re playing wicked grace, so if you ladies don’t mind.” They passed us with wide grins, but that was all.

“Get your tits out of my face!” Wild Cat hissed when I released her, “what the fuck!?”  
“I had to hide your face!” I hissed back.  
“With your _tits!?_ You nearly smothered me.”  
“Yeah,” I chuckled, “I had to think of something quick.”  
“Try something else next time,” she replied and quickly dressed herself, “now, which way is out?”  
“Follow me, if anyone asks, pretend I just took you to visit your cousin or something,” I replied, “you look innocent enough.”  
“Now we both know that’s not true.”  
“ _They_ don’t.”  
“Alright, alright.”

We avoided other people as much as possible, and eventually managed to walk out of there. We went back to the inn where I left the guard whose uniform I had borrowed. I had to return it, if he woke up and his uniform was suddenly gone, he’d probably realise I had taken it. And since he was in a booze coma, all I had to do was drop his stuff on the floor next to the bed. We used a side door, avoiding the common room, and headed up to the room where I had left him.

“So, _that’s_ how you got the uniform, what did you do to him?” Wild Cat asked when she saw the nearly naked man sprawled out on the bed.  
“Nothing, he’s just passed out drunk,” I replied and started taking off the uniform after closing the door behind me.  
“So he’ll wake up in the morning and remember nothing huh, clever,” she replied.   
“And if he does remember me, it won’t be because I stole his uniform,” I answered.

A loud snore had us both jump, it was followed by some sleepy murmuring. We both stayed as quiet as we could, but the fucker opened his eyes.

“Get over here love,” he slurred, “I’m gon- I’m gonna… eat you like a fine buffet.”

Wild Cat gave me a weird look and backed up slowly towards the door. Meanwhile I was standing in the middle of the room in only my panties and breastband. And he wanted to eat me… like a fine buffet… Then I had it.

“Like fuck you are!” I snapped, “you fell asleep you ass!”  
“Wha-” he started and moved to get up.  
“You get me up here with all these promises and you’re snoring like a fucking _pig!_ ” I continued and slapped him across the face, giving Wild Cat the time she needed to sneak out.   
“How dare you treat me like some cheap whore!? Or are you one of those who gets off on sleeping through it!? Am I not good enough to stay awake for!? Fuck you!”

He sat there looking at me like he was watching water burn, so I took the opportunity to snatch my own clothes off the floor, and storm out. Wild Cat met me in the hall with the widest grin.

“You crazy bitch,” she whispered gleefully, “you wonderful, demented, _maniac!_ ”  
“I love you too Wild Cat,” I replied and petted her head, “wanna come to the estate with me? You could hide out there for a few days.”  
“Depends, can I eat anything I like?” she asked playfully.  
“Sure.”

She ended up staying with us for two months. Mostly for the food, if Wild Cat was to be believed. Though I suspect she simply enjoyed feeling safe for a while. She wasn’t kidding about eating anything she liked though, she basically spent the first day in the pantry. She spent the next in my bathtub, and the one after that trying on my clothes."

Fela stretched and sighed.  
“The end,” she announced.  
“Yay,” Zevran said lazily and clapped his hands, “I like this ‘Wild Cat,’ did you ever track her down?”  
“She left Highever when Howe sacked the castle,” Fergus explained, “I haven’t been able to find out where.”  
“Wild Cat was no fool, she wouldn’t have been safe in the city with Howe running it,” Fela said, “she probably covered her tracks.”  
“Why? What would Howe have against her?” Alistair asked.   
“She was a known friend of mine, as soon as they discovered I was not among the dead, they would have gone looking for her.” They all remained quiet for a moment.

“Isn’t it possible,” Zevran said slowly, “that Howe got to her before she could run?”  
“It is…” Fela replied, “if she ended up in the dungeon in Highever castle, she could have been killed and disposed of long before the end of the Blight. She wouldn’t have been able to tell him anything.”  
“I see…”  
“A woman by her description was seen getting on a boat to the Free Marches, it’s possible she got out in time and covered her tracks well,” Fergus said, “we are assuming it was Wild Cat, and we’re still looking.”  
“But, where ever she disembarked, it was over a year ago. And a _lot_ of people fled to the Free Marches,” Fela said.   
“Basically our best hope is her figuring out Fela actually survived and gained a throne in the process,” Fergus said, “she might come back on her own.”  
“I can only hope… I can’t exactly take off to look for an old friend with everything I have going on here,” Fela said, “but I’d rather not think about that right now.”

“Change of subjects then,” Zevran said lightly, “shall I entertain you with a professional anecdote?”  
“You got one that involves animals?” Fergus asked. All heads, including Asher’s, turned towards him with varying expressions of confusion.  
“What?” he asked.  
“You just asked for a story with animals in it,” Fela said slowly.  
“And? Animals are great,” Fergus said with a shrug.   
“He’s kind of right,” Alistair said.  
“Animal themed professional anecdote then,” Zevran said and sat up a little in his chair, “get comfortable.”


	85. Not Even A Blunted Table Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a brief distraction provided by the Crows, Fela and Alistair intend to resume their duties. It doesn't go as expected.

Alistair resumed his duties the next day. Eamon didn’t like it, but Alistair didn’t blame him for that. Eamon reasoned that if there were still Crows that belonged to Clemente’s cell out there, there was still a risk of retaliation. Had the Crows been just a gang, he would have been right, but the Crows actually had a business model that was aimed at their continued existence. As such, Fela and Alistair weren’t too worried, since they had many ways of making the Crows’ work extremely difficult in Ferelden. The Crows were not interested in making an enemy who could do that. Not if there wasn’t a serious profit in it.

Fela had some catching up to do with the ‘investigation’ surrounding the theft of her log. While she was stuck in her chambers, Teagan and Stroud had made some progress. According to the staff, the runner never made it to the palace. Or at least, none of them had seen or spoken to a runner from the compound. The only way to be certain of that though, was to find the runner in question. Stroud had tracked down the boy’s family, but the boy had been missing since the day he left for work. As far as they knew, Stroud had been the last one to see him.

They were probably looking for a corpse by then, a kid that’s been missing for over two months usually doesn’t just come back. Not in one piece anyway. They were looking for a seventeen year old boy called Daniel. Brown hair and brown eyes, a little skinny but of average height. It was such a generic description that it wasn’t actually much help. He had no distinct features, no tattoos, nothing that would distinguish him from other boys his age.

Fela worried that he might have ended up a loose end that had been disposed of. Stroud didn’t seem to think the Grey Wardens would go _that_ far, but she wasn’t so sure of that. It would depend entirely on the Grey Warden. A murderer would be just as welcome as a priest among their ranks, but that didn’t mean they suddenly turned into gallant knights who only protect the innocent. The way these guys were going about gathering information about Fela, suggested this was indeed not the case.

Regardless, if the runner that was send from the compound to the palace never made it there, who collected the log at the compound and, perhaps even more important than that, who gave it to them? That particular question left a slightly bitter taste in Fela’s mouth.

Stroud had already been looking among the support staff at the compound, and another boy turned out to be missing. This one was eighteen, his family had been lost in the battle of Denerim and he had been working as a servant at the compound to make a living. He had been on duty the day Stroud had given the order to return the log to the palace, and was most likely the one that gave the log to whoever came to collect it.

Fela had set a trap to have her log stolen, and now two kids were missing. They might even be dead for all they knew.

She sighed and took Asher’s head in her hands when he placed it in her lap.   
“I didn’t think this through, did I?” she said quietly, Asher looked up at her sympathetically.  
“I can’t shake the thought I got those kids killed,” she admitted. Asher replied with a sigh.  
“We’re looking for them, but there is little to go on,” she continued, “we have an entire city to search and no idea where to start.” Asher gave a low whine and raised his eyebrows, giving her his best puppy-eyes. He knew it worked when she chuckled.   
“Trying to make me feel better huh?” she cooed with a crooked smile, “cutie-pie, it’s working.”  
The doggy grin that followed had her smile a little wider. Asher licked the inside of her wrist as if to reassure her, like he was trying to say it was going to be alright.   
“I know, and I want to believe Stroud is right and that Grey Wardens would never do such a thing, but I don’t know them, they are complete strangers to me. What reason do I have to trust their idea of morals? None, that’s what.” Another whine.   
“Yeah, yeah, but these are kids we are talking about and one has a very worried and distressed set of parents.”

Asher looked up at Fela, and smirked.

She sat staring at him for a moment, he looked… smug. Like he knew something she didn’t. That wouldn’t do, they shared everything. Asher’s smirk only got wider as the seconds ticked by. A mighty kick to one of her kidneys made it snap into place.

“I’m feeling parent stuff,” she observed. Asher lifted his head out of her hands and gave an excited bark.  
“Yeah,” she laughed, “good boy! You’re such a smart boy, aren’t you?” Another bark.   
“Yes, I’m growing up,” she replied playfully, “the blood thirsty caterpillar has made a cocoon and is transforming into an equally blood thirsty, horrifying, freakshow of a maternal butterfly. And you get to be there to witness it! Yes you are, _yes_ you are! Who’s a _lucky_ _boy?_ ”

“Should I just pretend I did not hear that?” Zevran asked.   
“Which part?” she asked blandly, rubbing Asher’s head vigorously with both hands.  
“The part about the monstrous butterfly you described,” he clarified, “the rest was… well, sweet.”  
“Asher is _very_ sweet,” she confirmed, “aren’t you?” she asked the hound, who bounded around excitedly.   
“Of course, he is my favourite hound, and that’s saying something,” he replied playfully, “he’s right though, so far no bodies have turned up, those boys might still be alive and hiding for some reason.”  
“You speak dog now?”  
“Have you _not_ seen the marvellous variety of facial expressions your hound has mastered?” Zevran countered.   
“Of course, but I speak dog,” she replied coyly.  
“Sure you do,” Zevran chuckled, “but my point still stands.”  
“I know, nothing is certain, we don’t need to assume the worst,” she surmised, “I’ve been telling myself that.”   
“But you’re feeling parent stuff,” Zevran said knowingly.   
“Yeah,” she said sheepishly, “let’s call it that.”  
“Lay it on me,” Zevran said patiently as he stepped out of the shadows and took a seat.

“Well, what if it was _my_ child that went missing?” she began, “I’d be out of my mind…”  
“You sympathise with those people,” Zevran nodded.   
“Yes, but that other boy too. He’s all alone, nobody waiting for him to come home…” she trailed off.  
“And now your maternal instincts are going crazy,” he answered.   
“That’s putting it mildly,” Fela replied, “I cried four times today.”  
“Well, you’re pregnant, so let’s count that as once,” he said helpfully.  
“Agreed,” she chuckled.

“I will look for them,” Zevran said, “I might be able to dig something up Teagan and Stroud can’t reach.”  
“Thanks Zev,” she said, trying to think of a way to tell him how much she appreciated the way Zevran had been there for her. He really was her best friend, and he had been taking care of her in his way by offering protection, a sympathetic ear, and even going out of his way to kill a man for her. It must have shown on her face, because Zevran reached for her hands with a warm smile.  
“I got you querida,” he said, “we’ll find them.”

That’s how she started crying for the fifth time that day, well, second.

Eventually she calmed down and cleaned herself up well enough to attend a meeting concerning Denerim’s current financial situation with the new Arl and Bann of the Alienage. While trade was slowly returning to normal, the coffers were nearly empty with all the repairs and the extensive refugee camps. Alistair had had the foresight to set up funds for repairs and actively encouraged the nobility to provide aid, but with half the country blighted, lumber wasn’t exactly in steady supply. You don’t build a wall with blighted wood, if any still remained after Alistair’s slightly pyromaniacal strategy of containing and destroying the Taint where it had corrupted the land. Stone they could manage, but it was agreed that Arl Crowley would negotiate a large shipment of lumber from the Free Marches. The Crown would help funding it since the city could barely still afford it.

Wars are terrible business for the economy. Unless you are a neutral party that mainly exports metals, wood, iron, weapons, armour, medical supplies, and so on. Then a war is lucrative. But the costs of a war extend far beyond the acquisition of men and materials if it is fought on your territory. Especially if your aim was to rebuild. Raising taxes even further might have been a logical option, but Crowley pointed out that if people had to pay more taxes, there would be less left to spend. And to keep the economy going, money needed to flow, not stagnate in tightly closed purses. So, to keep the markets going and shops in business, they tried to keep taxes manageable. Because those payed taxes too, and they were a stronger and steadier source of income than cutting into people’s pay checks.

Money _was_ coming in. But it was also going out at such a rate that there was no room to build up capital so the city would gain a more secure financial status. On the plus side, the city was nearly restored and the refugee camps were slowly starting to shrink. Those who had contracted blight sickness eventually died and fewer people came to seek refuge in Denerim these days. The flow of people coming in had slowed to a trickle and the flow of people ‘going out,’ which meant all eventually died, was just as high as ever.

The worst had passed and the after-shocks of the Blight and civil war were slowly receding. People were returning to farms and home-steads, vegetation was coming back to the scorched wastelands that were once blighted, and with vegetation, animals has started to return too. What they needed to do now was keep things steady until the last of the country’s war wounds were healed. _Then_ they could work on refilling the coffers.

And that, meant looking after the labour situation. How many people were jobless, how could they create work and income opportunities, what were they earning, and so on. Right now, a lot of people were working as labourers in the city since there were so many repairs going. But once those were completed, they would need a new source of income. And since Crowley wanted to keep the economy steady, unemployment needed to be kept to a minimum. The Craftsmen’s guild had been cooperating remarkably. Somehow, Crowley had gotten them to take on more apprentices and thus offered the opportunity to the current labourers to learn a new craft they could take up once the job-market for labourers crashed. Following their example, Innkeeps had been doing the same thing.

The idea was that, to keep the city going, they needed to keep its people going. Stabilising the economy meant facilitating people to earn and spend gold. And, people who have jobs to work are less likely to get up to shenanigans, which wasn’t exactly an unimportant detail.

After a long, but also very productive, meeting, Fela headed to the compound. Mostly just to check in, but also because she liked being able to go where ever she wanted again. And it felt good to have a little walk after sitting in a meeting for hours.

Besides solo exercises that were deemed ‘safe,’ light instructions during drills, and sex, that was all the exercise she got. After a year of walking and fighting all day long, it took some time getting used to sitting around more and just sparring, but now… Well, she had some excess energy she couldn’t get rid of, especially after the last few days.

As soon as she walked into the compound, Nate came to find her. Odd, considering he usually preferred to keep some distance between them. He’d been warming up to her a bit after she dragged him back to the compound, drunk off his ass. But he could hardly be called her biggest fan.

“Commander,” Nate said, somewhat stiffly, “could I speak to you for a moment?”  
“Of course,” she replied, “what is it?”  
“Could we um, go somewhere more private?” he asked. Fela gave him a funny look, she knew he didn’t mean it the way it sounded, but this was unusual for Nate. He seemed… worried?   
“Alright,” she nodded, “follow me.”

She lead them to the south wing and up a flight of stairs where they stepped out onto the watchtower.

“We should be able to talk freely here,” Fela said as she turned to Nate, “what do you need?”  
“That’s uh, it’s not that I _need_ anything, but something happened,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.  
“What?” she asked briefly.  
“I received a letter,” he began and handed her a piece of paper. Fela skimmed it quickly and Nate watched as her eyes grew darker with each sentence she read.  
“Did you send a reply?” she asked in a calm, business-like tone as she turned her gaze on Nate.  
“Yes,” he admitted, “I met with the two men named in the letter.”  
“And?”  
“And they started asking me questions about you, and your baby.”  
“My baby?” Fela asked, “that’s new.”

Nate stared at her for a moment, and blinked.

“Wait,” he said slowly, “you know these men?”  
“I know what they are here for, and I know where they are from,” she answered as she handed the letter back to Nate, “as of yet, neither of them has reached out to me personally or even informed me of their presence.”  
“Why would they?” Nate asked after a brief silence.   
“They are Grey Wardens,” she answered, “from the Anderfells.”

Something clicked in Nate’s mind. He could see she was holding in anger, and she may not have fixed him with her gaze, but he suddenly felt _very_ aware of how dangerous she was. But this time, it was not directed at him, it was directed at the men who reached out to him.

“They are investigating you,” Nate said slowly, “and you’ve known for a lot longer than I have.”  
“Yes,” she said honestly.  
“Why? You stopped the Blight, didn’t you? Is this about the darkspawn still terrorising Amaranthine?” he asked, shaking his head with an odd expression on his face.   
“Nate, I’m going to explain a few things, and I need you to understand I don’t want any of my new recruits involved. You had nothing to do with any of it,” Fela started.   
“Okay,” he said slowly, dragging out the first syllable.

“First, you need to know why only a Grey Warden can slay an Archdemon,” she said, and leaned over the wall to watch the streets below.  
“When an Archdemon is killed, you only kill it’s body. It’s essence, or soul if you prefer, leaves the body. But it doesn’t stay that way, due to the Taint, it’s attracted to the nearest Blighted creature. If that’s any kind of darkspawn, it sort of regenerates. That’s why the first Blight nearly wiped us out, each time we managed to kill one, it simply ‘respawned.’ Darkspawn are soulless, which basically means the horde it gathers is an endless supply of new vessels in case the one that is being inhabited is killed. When we realised it was the Taint that made this possible, the first Grey Wardens were created. A body can’t hold two souls, it would obliterate them both. So when a Grey Warden does the killing, he will be the nearest Tainted creature and the Archdemon’s soul is destroyed along with that of the Grey Warden. You won’t have to worry about that,” she added, “it’ll be some time before the next Blight. We won’t be around for it, but the Order will.”

Nate let that sink in for a bit. They took the Taint within themselves, not just to learn to sense darkspawn and become stronger and faster, but because it enabled them to kill an Archdemon.

“But you survived,” Nate said.  
“Yes.”  
“How?”  
“I don’t honestly know,” she said, almost truthfully, “I certainly _felt_ like I was being obliterated when I killed the damn thing.”  
“So, if you’re still around, does that mean the Archdemon’s soul isn’t destroyed? Did it go somewhere else?” he concluded.  
“Apparently, according to Stroud, there is some disagreement among Grey Wardens in the Anderfells and Orlais as to the answer to _that_ particular question,” she answered, “some seem to believe I did something I’m not telling them, others believe it was a stroke of luck. But regardless, if that Archdemon were to pop up again, the world will be looking at the Grey Wardens. I believe, that they are preparing for a witch hunt in case that happens, and I’m to be burned if it comes to that. They had nothing to do with stopping the fifth Blight after all, it was just Alistair and me.” The last part was added with a bitter undertone.

“So, you did your job, without their help, and now they are so suspicious they have started investigating you without your knowledge? Instead of sending more Wardens to help rebuilt here, they send them to dig up anything that might incriminate you?” he surmised.   
“That’s what I believe, yes,” she answered.   
“Goddamn,” he said slowly.

“After the battle with the Archdemon, I was badly hurt,” she continued, “because it was a fucking Archdemon I battled so _of course_ I was trashed. There were two Grey Wardens from Orlais in the city, they supposedly arrived after the Archdemon was slain, but we can’t be sure. They asked to speak with us, and when they were informed we were still recovering and that they would have to wait for a few days, they got more than a little agitated. Bann Teagan kept them at bay while Alistair and I were recovering, they were demanding to speak to us as if they had any authority here. And once we agreed to meet with them, they interrogated us, well tried to. The palace is _my_ house now,” she said and gestured in its general direction.

“Anyway, they seemed to believe I did something wrong. That my being alive meant that I had shirked my duty,” she explained. Nate scoffed at that.  
“Right, a Cousland that shirked their duty,” he said, “go on.” Fela smiled a little at that, Nate seemed to be outraged on her behalf.   
“Alistair kicked them out,” she continued, “and Stroud, Fabliaux, and Germain replaced them.”  
“Stroud, Fabliaux, and Germain aren’t investigating you,” he pointed out, “they are actively helping you rebuild.”  
“Yeah, because that’s what I needed other Grey Wardens for,” she said simply, “I don’t know about those first two, but I have a feeling they weren’t send by the same person as our current colleagues. If anybody _send_ them at all.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“From what I understand, they ‘arrived’ the morning after the Archdemon was slain,” Fela replied, “quite convenient for them, the ‘party’ was already over.”  
“You think they were already here and didn’t step up to help?” Nate said with a raised eyebrow.  
“That’s exactly what I think,” she replied, “there was a third Grey Warden in the battle, an Orlesian called Riordan. He was imprisoned at the Arl of Denerim’s estate, apparently he had been send to find out what had happened when all communications from Ferelden suddenly went silent. He thought Loghain wouldn’t recognise him, and they got him with poisoned wine. He’d been down there for a _long_ time, it stands to reason they send people to look for him. And then he popped up in Denerim with us.”

“But he died before the Archdemon was killed, right?” Nate asked, Mhairi talked about the battle of Denerim constantly claiming to have gotten her information straight from the source.  
“In an attempt to ground the Archdemon,” Fela said slowly, “he leapt onto its back from one of the towers lining the city wall. He messed up one wing well enough, but when the Archdemon lost control of its flight it slammed itself into another tower and Riordan fell. Then it hopped to fort Drakon where we eventually took it down.” Nate shook his head at the mental image.

“If they were in the battle, wouldn’t they have seen that happen?” Nate asked.   
“They weren’t in the battle,” Fela said with a shake of her head, “but they must have been nearby to have arrived here so fast. Grey Wardens can feel it you know, when an Archdemon is slain. It’s the Taint, it resonates… something. Anyway, these guys popped up in Highever a couple of months ago, asking Arl Eamon about my behaviour on the night before the battle. I don’t know if they have any ties to the first set, but that doesn’t really matter. I can’t do anything about it unless I am willing to have them arrested, for _asking_ _questions_. You can see how that would not go over well.”  
“Indeed,” Nate said with a frown, “and now here we are.”

Fela nodded and stared at the horizon. Nate could almost _see_ the gears in her head working, this was all new information for him, but Fela had known for a while. And she had given it serious thought too.

“Are any of the other Wardens aware?” he finally asked.  
“The senior Wardens, yes,” she replied, “they have contacted Stroud some time ago, and my brother too.”  
“They’re taking it quite seriously, huh?” Nate remarked.   
“Yeah, this is about more than finding out if I’m trustworthy, which, I’m pretty, sure is what Stroud has been send here for,” Fela said dryly.   
“ _Stroud?_ ” he said with a frown.  
“Don’t worry about Stroud, he’s just doing his job and he genuinely wants to help rebuild the order here,” Fela said, “I am a new Grey Warden with a massive reputation, multiple titles, and I am married to a King. Of course they would be a little slow to trust me, it’s normal, and ties with the Orlesian Chapter have been improving since Stroud’s arrival.” He nodded at that, but didn’t look any less surprised in the most unpleasant of manners.

“That explains why they would ask how you run things,” he said slowly, “but what I don’t understand, is why they would ask me if your pregnancy is progressing normally.”  
“ _They_ _what!?_ ” she snapped, briefly turning a black, fiery gaze on him before softening a bit.   
“Sorry,” she said, “I get protective.”  
“No surprise there,” he replied, “I told them they were barking up the wrong tree, I don’t know the first thing about what a ‘normal’ progression of pregnancy is.”  
“And they bought that,” she said flatly.   
“Well, it’s also true,” Nate replied, “and it’s none of my business.”  
“You got that right,” she groused.  
“Which is why I told them nothing,” Nate said, “because as far as I can see you’re fine and you recently sliced up four Crows, but they don’t need to hear that from me.” Fela nodded in recognition.

“Thank you,” she said, “you know why they picked you right, instead of another Grey Warden.”  
“They expected me to leap at the opportunity to discredit you, since we have something of a complex history,” he replied dryly.  
“But you didn’t,” Fela observed.  
“No, I didn’t,” he replied softly, “if they had tracked me down a year ago, I might have… But… I don’t know, you’re my Commander. And what my father did… What he became, it had nothing to do with you or me. You got caught in the crossfire and you fought back, if it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else. His greed has cost my family _everything,_ the things he did went far beyond anything justifiable... It just… I am done holding on to that. It’s dead weight.”  
“You didn’t just inform me of two strangers asking after my baby and me,” Fela said quietly, “you had my back in that conversation.”  
“I… suppose I did,” he said, paused, and sighed deeply, “that clean slate you mentioned, in the Drowned Rat, I think I much prefer that over being branded a traitor’s son.”  
“You remember,” she said with a small smile, “I was wondering if you would.”  
“Unfortunately I remember all of it,” he said with a pained look, “including how much of an ass I made out of myself.”  
“We’ve all been there,” she shrugged.  
“Thanks, for… talking me back to the compound I guess…” he said awkwardly as he briefly glanced at her and looked away again.   
“Don’t mention it,” she replied easily.

“So what are you going to do about them?” Nate asked curiously.   
“Depends,” she replied simply.   
“On what?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.   
“On how much further they are willing to go,” she shrugged, “I’m pretty sure they stole my log.”  
“’Pretty sure?’” Nate repeated.  
“No proof,” she clarified, “but it’s looking pretty damning.”  
“Ah, what will you do once you have it?” he asked.  
“Use it to my advantage,” she said simply, “I’m not about to take out any Grey Wardens, but I’m not letting them walk all over me either.”  
“I see, am I to assume this is to be kept between us?” Nate replied.  
“No, if they reached out to you it’s only a matter of time before they try one of the others, probably Dan or Rory, if they’ve done their homework.”  
“What do you mean?” he asked.   
“I met Daena during the Blight,” Fela answered, “it’s all in the log. And everybody knows the Circle Tower is no great place to be. Rory and Dan are the only two who would have something to return to.” Nate nodded.   
“Should I warn them?” he asked.  
“No, but you can tell them what I just told you,” she replied, “and let them know they might be contacted.”  
“That’s all?”  
“Each of them will make up their own minds,” Fela said simply, “and honestly, I’m not worried.”

Nate could see why. Each and every one of the other new Grey Wardens was fiercely protective of their Commander. He’d had to talk Daena and Juno out of sneaking out the compound to get to Anora’s tower. Juno claimed that if she could get close enough, she could slowly cool the blood in Anora’s veins. By the time anybody found her, it would have looked like she died in her sleep. Juno was… _powerful_. And extremely talented at that. Add Daena’s penchant for getting into places she wasn’t supposed to be, and you had something quite dangerous. Fortunately, they were also reasonable in the end, and agreed to let the Commander do what she apparently did best. 

“Fucking Blight…” Fela muttered under her breath. Nate picked it up though.  
“Didn’t stop with killing the Archdemon, did it,” he replied.   
“I should be so lucky…” she sighed.  
“Well, at least there’s more than two of you now,” he replied.   
“There is that,” she affirmed with a small smile.

“Can I ask you something?” Nate said.  
“Sure,” she said and turned her head to look back at him, instead to watching the city.  
“Why would Grey Wardens from the Anderfells Chapter be interested in how your pregnancy is progressing?”

Fela frowned at that, briefly considering how she should answer that. She wasn’t entirely sure why they would be interested, but a pregnant Grey Warden was certainly something unusual and therefore probably of interest to them.

“I think,” she began slowly, “that they are curious.”  
“Curious?” Nate repeated flatly with a raised eyebrow.  
“The Taint changes things in your body,” she replied, “you should have noticed by now, your reflexes are faster, your stamina has increased greatly, you’re stronger, and more, but these things come at a price. We don’t understand the Taint yet, in fact all we know about it is what it does. We don’t know why it grants us these new strengths and talents, only to act as a slow-acting poison later, not for certain at any rate. But all Grey Wardens eventually succumb to the Taint, that’s when they say the _real_ nightmares start.”  
“Not for certain? So there are theories?” Nate asked.  
“Some, but you can see how active experimentation to prove these theories is not entirely ethical. But we can go into that another time. The point is, that there are very few, if any, Grey Wardens who were known to have children after they joined. It should probably be said that Alistair and I were actively trying and most Grey Wardens don’t do that, even so, by now it is easy to see that I am indeed _very_ pregnant and that’s highly unusual to them. I can’t speak for any conclusions they might have drawn, but the fact remains that it is assumed to be impossible for Grey Wardens to have children by most. Though I don’t believe it has ever been put to the test.”  
“I see…” he said slowly, “though, is it a purely academical interest on their part or something else?”  
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly, “but if it were purely academical, I’d expect them to come to me, not to you.”  
“Fair point.”

Fela went back to staring out over the city, fingers drumming impatiently on the stone surface.   
“Which questions did they ask, exactly?” she asked.   
“First they asked if it was progressing normally,” Nate answered, “and when I said I had no idea they started getting more specific. How many months, was it kicking, abnormal sleeping patters, signs of distress or pain, that sort of thing.”  
“Hmm, those questions would give a general idea of the baby’s health,” Fela said, “did they say anything about miscarriages or birth defects?”   
“No but I didn’t really give them a chance to either,” Nate said, “when the conversation went that way I ended it pretty quickly.”  
“What was it about before that?” Fela asked.   
“How you run things, recruitment, training, general dorm rules, that sort of thing,” Nate replied.  
“Good, that doesn’t worry me,” she said with a nod.  
“But their interest in your child does,” he concluded.  
“So would you be if you were in my position,” she replied, “figuratively speaking.”  
“I figured.”  
“Hah, good one,” Fela snickered, “was there anything else you wanted to talk about? I have an overprotective husband to inform and calm down.”  
“No, Commander, that was all,” Nate replied politely.  
“Alright, and thank you Nate, for telling me of this,” she answered.  
“It has been pointed out to me recently, that you have your recruits’ backs,” he replied with a slight smile, “I am simply returning the favour.”   
“I’ll see you around Nate,” Fela replied, “take care.”

With that, Fela left, massive hound trudging after her faithfully. Nate remained atop the watchtower for a while longer, whatever you expected that woman to do, she did something different. If she simply did the opposite, there would at least be some measure of predictability. As it was, she managed to baffle him each and every time they interacted. It was impossible to take her measure, but she took yours. Perhaps that was what made her so… strange. Why he always felt slightly uncertain around her.

He shrugged, Fela being strange was nothing new, and went back inside.

* * *

Alistair was pacing back and forth like an angry bear.

Fela had just told him about her conversation with Nathaniel Howe, and he wasn’t happy. For starters, he didn’t like the idea of Fela having a conversation with a man that came to Denerim to kill her not to long ago without at least another Grey Warden or guard present. Second, he was getting pretty sick of the scrutiny his wife was under while he was mostly left alone. But worst, they had digging for information about his unborn child.

It took quite a lot to get Alistair angry, but these Grey Wardens had managed it.

“What did Howe tell them?” he asked, for about the tenth time.  
“You can just call him Nate,” Fela said easily.  
“Fine, what did ‘Nate’ tell them?” he replied impatiently.  
“That he had no idea whether my pregnancy was progressing normally since he has no idea what that entails, precisely, and that it was none of his business,” she replied patiently.

If Fela had been feeling ‘parent stuff’ before, Alistair was feeling it now. He looked ready to tear someone apart with his bare hands. It was reassuring in a way, to see him react like this.

“What does our child even have to do with any of this?” Alistair groused.  
“It’s another peculiar thing to add to my list,” Fela replied simply, “it has peaked their interest.”  
“Right, because a baby must be a sign you’re not trustworthy,” Alistair replied wistfully.   
“I’m pretty sure they’re not expecting me to lay an egg so a tiny Archdemon baby can claw out of it and suckle on my breast before I ride it into battle to destroy Thedas,” Fela said with a shrug, breaking Alistair’s tension briefly and eliciting a chuckle.  
“That’s just…” he snickered, “you’re a very disturbed person, you know that?”  
“Admittedly,” she replied with a smile, “must be why they’re so interested.”  
“Well, if you _do_ end up riding an Archdemon into battle, I’d advise you start with Weisshaupt,” he replied dryly.   
“Our Spymaster will see to it that will be unnecessary,” she answered, “sooner or later, they’ll do something stupid enough to let us get away with killing them, and I’m not talking about having a trial.”  
“Why wait for that to happen, Zevran could probably make them ‘disappear’ before the night is done,” Alistair replied impatiently, “no body no crime, as he always says.”  
“And miss an opportunity to gain more leverage on Weisshaupt or whoever send these guys?” she said in a business-like tone.  
“Miss an opportunity to play games you mean,” Alistair groused.

“Games will be played and we will participate whether we want to or not,” Fela said simply, “we’re the target, we don’t have a choice,” then she seemed to flare with anger, “and don’t you _dare_ suggest I am willing to take unnecessary risks just so I can ‘play games,’” she said in a tone so dangerous it was nearly a low growl, “I will kill each and every idiot dumb enough to threaten our child, but I’d like to root it out entirely straight away, and you’re suggesting we cut leaves.”  
“You _are_ taking unnecessary risk!” Alistair shouted, “you can avoid it if you _just stop_ playing puppet master!”  
“What am I to do Alistair!? Let myself be played like a puppet instead!?” Fela shouted as she rose, “do you think I’m not taking this seriously!? That I don’t worry they’ll come and take my baby away so they can _dissect_ him or something!?”  
“There are _other ways!_ ” he roared, “what benefit is it to us to let them continue what they’re doing!?”  
“Other ways huh, like acting on impulse and do something we cannot undo?” she sneered, “for all we know, they are fully expecting us to react like you are right now!”  
“And then what!?” he barked, “dead men don’t expect shit!”  
“Other Grey Wardens, _do!_ ” Fela snapped, “if they disappear straight after talking to Nathaniel Howe, who currently answers to _me_ as his Commander, I can guarantee what conclusion the other Grey Wardens would draw! If we make them disappear, we’d better do it right, or it will come right back to bite our asses!”  
“We have _everything_ we could possibly need to do that! Crows, soldiers, spies, resources, _the_ _two_ _of_ _us!_ ” Alistair retorted.  
“We _lack_ timing!” she countered, “marching out and executing any threat to our child is _exactly_ what they would expect us to do right now!”  
“That’s why I’m saying we have everything we need to make sure this is done right! There is no need to wait for better timing!” he shouted exasperatedly.  
“You’re not hearing me, what you are suggesting is most likely a bigger risk than waiting for them to go looking elsewhere! _Then_ we take them out, you don’t shit where you eat, Alistair, it’s not that complicated!”  
“Using the power you’ve amassed, isn’t that complicated!”   
“And the message that would send?” she scoffed.  
“The message would be; _don’t_ threaten my child!”  
“It shows that you’re _rash!_ ” Fela shouted back, “that you’re willing to use your power for personal aims, do _not_ give anybody a reason to trust us even less now that the country is finally healing! You could do irreparable damage!”  
“And _they_ could do irreparable damage to our child!”  
“So _calm_ the _fuck_ down, and think this through! We can’t afford any mistakes with this!”  
“I already have!”  
“Do you feel rational at this moment?” she sneered, “bloody Maker you’re so angry I wouldn’t even give you a _blunted table knife_ right now, let alone let you make life and death decisions!” she snatched a cloak off the wall near the door and opened it to storm out.  
“What are you doing!? We’re not done yet!” Alistair shouted as he followed.  
“I am,” she snarled and moved to leave, Alistair grabbed her elbow before she could, hard.

“How _dare you!?_ ” she hissed as she twisted her arm in an attempt to shake off his grip, resulting in an even tighter grip.  
“You’re at _risk_ Fela!” he roared, “you’re not storming off alone!” That was it.

Fela snapped, grabbing his thumb on the hand that was holding her arm, and pulling it back viciously. It loosened his grip enough to shake her arm free and thrust it into Alistair’s chest. He let go of her arm and stumbled back two paces, but he also caught her wrist with his other hand. He pulled her with him slightly before she regained her balance and drove her fist into his elbow so hard his entire arm went numb. This was followed by a quick but disorienting jab at his chin and another open palm to his chest. By the time he had regained his balance and his wits enough to go after her, she was already gone.

“Which way?” he demanded of a passing servant. The man pointed down the hallway and Alistair took off. It wasn’t any use though. For a pregnant woman in her third trimester she was remarkably quick. And if Fela didn’t want you to follow her, well, being pregnant did not necessarily make her any easier to spot. He checked a few of her regular hiding spots, but she likely had more he didn’t know about. He briefly considered trying to douse her out through the Taint, he’d been getting better at that with Fela helping him practice. But decided that it was probably best to leave her alone, she’d been pretty clear on that.

* * *

Fela flared with anger.

It was hardly the first time they had a fight, but Alistair had never tried forbidding her to leave before. Not like this, even going to far as to try and physically restrain her. It had gotten a little physical back there. He hadn’t hurt her, and she hadn’t done anything to hurt him. Just disorient him. Still, she had gotten more than a little angry when he tried to force her to do as he told her. That was a bedroom game, it didn’t extend to things like this.

She hoisted herself up to reach a lower section of a roof, a lot less gracefully than she would have liked but the point was that she got there. Before getting up, she pulled off her boots and her socks. It would give her a better grip and minimize the risk of slipping on one of the tiles. Just as a precaution. The sun was barely starting to set, the tiles weren’t slippery with dew yet. She made her way across the roof to scamper up a chimney and to a higher section. Again, it wasn’t as graceful as she would have liked, but she got where she wanted to go. It just required some… creativity.

Obviously her stomach got in the way if she simply pulled herself up a ledge by her arms. But if she swung one leg up and got her ankle over the ledge, she had an extra point of leverage and could sort of roll up the ledge if she used her momentum right. It took some doing, but she eventually got where she wanted to go. A secluded section or roof above the library, from where she could watch the sunset, leaning against sun warmed stone.

She sat down and scowled at the setting sun. As if her glare could chase it past the horizon a little faster. Her fight with Alistair had her re-evaluating her actions. _Was_ she taking unnecessary risk? How big were the chances that the Grey Wardens _actually_ meant the child harm? Were they really capable of that? _They were capable of making two young boys disappear._

She pushed the thought from her mind. It originated from fear, not the best motivator in Fela’s experience. Nor was it the best advisor. They needed more information, so how were they going to get it? She could think of a few things, but Alistair would never agree to those. Forcing a confrontation where she could speak to the men herself would be best, but it was highly unlikely she could get Alistair to agree to that. So what was the next best thing? Watching them while they spoke to someone else, but would they be able to sense her through the Taint? Would they even think to try? It might not matter though, even if they did sense her, chances of them being able to pinpoint her were small, and she lived in the palace so her presence would be expected.

She started forming a plan in her mind, determined to get the answers she needed to get an idea of just how big of a threat these Grey Wardens from the Anderfells posed. More games, yes, but you couldn’t stay out of the game by simply ignoring it. Alistair knew it too, he just wished it were different. Especially now they were bringing a child into it.

She got up when the sun had completely disappeared beneath the horizon. Alistair was clearly worried enough as things stood, no need to make that worse by staying out after dark. She had cooled off enough by then anyway.

The way back down was a bit slower than her way up. She couldn’t let herself drop down anymore, Wynne had made it clear that jumping was a bad idea in her position. That meant she slowly had to lower herself down and find her footing before putting her weight on it.

By the time she made it back to the royal chambers, the light from the horizon had started to fade and the sky was slowly turning dark. Alistair wasn’t there, but that suited her just fine for the moment. She picked a book from her personal collection, and curled up in bed where Asher soon joined her.

He hadn’t been able to follow when Fela had started climbing onto the roof, but he had followed as far as he could and stayed close by. This was typical behaviour for his human, after all. She always came back sooner or later, it was just that the best spots to be when she was upset were spots that weren’t easy to reach. And he had understood every word of the argument that his human and her mate had before she stormed out. Asher simply knew his mistress well enough to understand and predict her behaviour, so waiting for her to finish whatever she did up on top of things, was no big deal to him.

Snuggled up on the bed together, he felt she had calmed down and relaxed. He didn’t know what Fela did on top of things, but apparently, whatever it was, it was good. She always went up there upset and came back down feeling a little better. Asher took pride in the fact that his ability to read and understand his mistress was far greater than that of any other human. Even her mate missed the mark sometimes.

But never her faithful Mabari, and he knew for a fact, that he was the best boy.

* * *

After giving up on chasing Fela, Alistair had gone to talk to Fergus. He figured that her brother might know where to find her. Instead, Fergus had outright refused to tell him about any hiding spots Alistair wasn’t aware of.

“Listen, even if I did tell you where she might be, she’d just find a new spot and this time she won’t tell me about it,” Fergus said apologetically.  
“And meanwhile there are two Grey Wardens from the Anderfells out there who have apparently decided that our unborn child is of interest to them,” Alistair countered, “you realise she’s out somewhere _alone_ right? Zevran doesn’t shadow her when she’s with me.”  
“Didn’t Asher follow her?” Fergus asked.  
“Well, yes, but we both know she likes high places and Asher wouldn’t be able to follow,” Alistair replied.  
“He’ll remain nearby,” Fergus said, “just on the ground.”  
“Nearby enough to warn her when he picks up on something she doesn’t?” Alistair retorted.   
“Like what?” Fergus said, “she’ll stay on palace grounds.”  
“Well, they’ve proven not to be as secure as we think, haven’t they?” he replied crisply.

“You know my sister well enough by now,” Fergus started, “if you intruded on her solitude now, what do you think will happen the next time she needs it?”   
“She’d find an even more secluded spot,” Alistair sighed.  
“I have an understanding with my sister,” Fergus continued, “she tells me where her hiding spots are, but only so I can find her in an emergency. We both know that Fela won’t consider this an emergency, so if I told you where she might be right now, I’d lose the ability to find her when it is necessary. I can’t find her if she doesn’t tell me where to look, and that’s what will happen if I give her hiding spots away for anything less than a life and death situation.”   
“You’re not worried she’s vulnerable?” Alistair asked with a frown.   
“To Fela, that word means something entirely different than to the average person,” Fergus said with a pointed look.  
“She’s still just a person,” Alistair pressed, “a severed artery or some poison will kill her just like anyone else.”  
“And from what I’ve seen in the palace gardens a few days ago, you’d have to come at her with a small army if you wanted to get a chance to seriously hurt her,” Fergus replied, “and she wouldn’t have left unarmed.”  
“Well, no,” Alistair replied, “she never disarmed when she came back from the compound.”  
“Then we can safely assume she has at least six blades on her, rapiers excluded,” Fergus said, “I know my sister Alistair, she’ll be back in one piece. And don’t forget she has just spent three days in your chambers in what is basically house-arrest to her, she’ll need the solitude more than you think.”

“Look, I’m not going up there, I get that she wants to be alone,” Alistair said, “I just want to know where she is so I know where to look if she doesn’t come back.”  
“That’s fair, but you need _her_ permission for that, not mine,” Fergus countered.  
“Fine,” Alistair groused, “I don’t suppose you could go talk to her?”  
“It wouldn’t be wise for me to intrude,” Fergus replied, “the main reason she shares her hiding spots with me is that I never visit them. She knows I’ll leave her alone.”  
“Just… I need to know she’s safe,” Alistair urged.   
“I’m pretty sure I know where she is,” Fergus said, “and by my best estimate she is quite safe. To get where she is you’d have to get pretty deep into the palace, passing guards on multiple occasions. But I can’t tell you more than that.”  
“Well, it’s something,” Alistair replied and let himself drop into a chair.

“I’m an idiot,” he announced after a brief silence.  
“What was it about anyway?” Fergus asked as he moved to poor Alistair a cup of brandy, “you must have gotten her pretty pissed if she stormed off.”  
“Apparently those Grey Wardens from the Anderfells have reached out to Nathaniel Howe, wanting to know how Fela’s pregnancy is progressing,” Alistair answered. Fergus briefly stopped what he was doing casting a dark look back at Alistair before he handed him his cup.  
“And how do you know?” Fergus asked slowly, clearly keeping down some protective instincts of his own.  
“Howe told her,” Alistair replied.  
“Really?” Fergus asked with raised eyebrows, “that’s… I don’t know what that is. Those two never got along, I was baffled when she told me she’d conscripted him.”  
“I know right? But, as it turns out, she wasn’t wrong about him,” Alistair said, “ _he_ came to _her_ , and apparently he refused to give them any information.” Fergus shook his head.  
“I’ll never understand how she does these things,” he sighed, “he came to kill her for fuck’s sake, now he has her back when two strange men come asking questions? It’s just…” he made a vague gesture, “how do you _do_ that?”  
“Well, you’d have to be Fela,” Alistair said with a shrug, “and you’d have to be willing to dig into Howe’s mind, then you’d also have to be proficient at it, and then some mojo happens, and she creates a friend out of an enemy.”  
“Mojo?” Fergus asked.  
“I don’t know what else to call it,” Alistair shrugged, “you know what I’m talking about, the gazing.”  
“Yeah,” Fergus said, “I know. But, back to how you’re an idiot, Grey Wardens from the Anderfells have questions about your unborn child, then what?”

“She… intends to do nothing about it for now, wait for them to look elsewhere, outside the city,” Alistair replied.   
“And I take it you don’t agree,” Fergus said.  
“She insists that if they disappear now, from Denerim, the other Grey Wardens will know something is up,” Alistair said, “I believe we have every resource we could possibly need to take out the threat now and make sure nobody ever finds them.”  
“She has a point…”  
“Not _you too,”_ Alistair groaned.  
“Alistair, is having disappeared thoroughly enough that nobody can find them, keeping you from assuming the runner and the servant were killed by the Grey Wardens?” Fergus asked pointedly.  
“Well, we can’t be certain they’ve been killed unless we find their bodies,” Alistair started.   
“But you are assuming they’ve been killed nonetheless, because they should have turned up by now,” Fergus said, “the Grey Wardens will do the same if you make their visiting colleagues disappear. And since when are you rooting for assassination?”  
“Since this is about my child.”

“Are you _absolutely_ certain of that?” Fergus asked, “can you claim, without reasonable doubt, that those Wardens mean your child harm?”  
“I-… no.”  
“And is Fela opposed to getting them out of the way, or does she simply want to wait for a better time and place than Denerim, right after talking to one of her recruits?” he continued.   
“Her argument was that you don’t shit where you eat,” Alistair replied crisply.  
“Well there you have it,” Fergus said, “all you need to do is figure out a way to get those Grey Wardens to investigate someplace else without the information that leads them there being tracked back to you.”  
“Oh is that all?” Alistair said sarcastically, “and while I come up with that, they’ll continue to interrogate people about my wife. See the problem?”  
“Oh I see the problem, but I don’t think you do,” Fergus said with a sly smile.  
“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” Alistair groused.  
“There is a very important detail, that is making you a lot less forgiving and a lot more violent compared to how you’ve responded to threats in the past,” Fergus said.  
“Yes, this is about my unborn child, not about someone who is more than capable of defending herself, like my wife,” Alistair said impatiently, “I just told you that.” Fergus rolled his eyes.  
“Alistair, what you are feeling right now is the protectiveness of a parent over their child,” Fergus said, “and since that’s an emotionally driven instinct, it’s making you… less than rational.”

“Oh…” Alistair said after a brief silence.  
“That’s all you got?” Fergus asked.   
“Well I… don’t usually question myself on my rationality,” Alistair said, “Templars are trained to leave their emotions and desires out of the equation when they make decisions.”  
“Like you’ve never made a decision based on your gut,” Fergus said with a pointed look.  
“Of course I have, but I _can_ turn it off if I need to… I just didn’t realise I needed to…”  
“Your first fit of parental rage,” Fergus said and raised his glass, “congratulations, we’re all lunatics when it’s about our children.”  
“Hmm, she said I was too angry to be trusted with even a blunt table knife,” Alistair admitted, “let alone life and death decisions.”  
“Remember the state Fela was in when those Crows attacked her,” Fergus said, “that’s the state you’re in now. Or was, you seem to have cooled off a bit.”

“I should go and see if she’s back yet,” Alistair said as he glanced out the window, the moon was high in the sky.   
“Most likely,” Fergus replied, “don’t let me keep you.”  
“Thanks for the advice Fergus,” Alistair said as he stood.  
“Any time,” he replied, “tell her I said hi.”  
“Will do.”

* * *

“I didn’t tell you this to watch you go after them!” Nate hissed quietly as he followed Daena and Juno down the corridor. He’d told them about the inn where he had met the Grey Wardens from the Anderfells earlier that day. It might have been unwise to share that bit of information.

“I know,” Daena said simply.  
“Then what are you doing!?” Nate hissed.   
“It’s simple Nate,” Juno said quietly, “they go after our Commander, they go after us.”  
“You could cause irreparable damage!” Nate insisted, “there is a lot of tension between the Ferelden Chapter and that of the Anderfells.”  
“What do we care about two assholes from the Anderfells?” Daena asked pointedly, “I didn’t see any of them stopping the Blight.”  
“The _Commander_ cares,” he countered, “don’t you think she would have taken them out herself if she wanted to? She’s known about these guys for months!”  
“So?” Juno asked.   
“So there is probably a reason she let these guys walk! You don’t know her like I do, she has a plan and you’re fucking it up!” Nate said exasperatedly.  
“Since when do you and the Commander get along?” Daena said dryly.  
“I- _That’s not the issue!_ ” he snapped.   
“Well, it is for us,” Juno answered dismissively.

“Look, Nate,” Daena said, “we’re not stupid, and we’re not going to walk up to them and say hi.”  
“Then what _are_ you doing?” he asked.   
“I want to watch them,” she answered, “Juno wanted to come along.”  
“And then what?” he asked.  
“If I were the Commander, I would want to know more about these guys, where do they go, who do they talk to, what’s in their room, anything that tells me why they would be interested in the Commander’s child,” Daena said, “now I’m guessing she is too easily recognised to come herself. But nobody looks twice at a knife-ear.”  
“What makes you think she doesn’t already have people on that!?” Nate said exasperatedly.

“She isn’t supposed to know they’re here, is she?” Daena said, “if I were her, I’d want to keep them from discovering I am completely aware of what’s going on.”  
“So your plan is to go spy on them, like they wouldn’t connect you to the Commander immediately,” Nate said.   
“What makes you say that?” Juno asked curiously.  
“The Commander thinks these are the guys that took her log, she met you during the Blight Daena, she wrote about you,” Nate explained.  
“Not me though,” Juno said, “I didn’t speak to her until she came to Kinloch Hold to recruit me.”  
“Yes, but if they did their homework, and the Commander suspects they did, they know exactly who you are. She also said, it would be more likely for them to approach Dan or Rory, since they would have something to return to.”  
“And they reached out to you because they thought your history with her would make you more willing to talk,” Daena nodded, “he has a point, Juno.” Of course, Daena _did_ have something to return to, but the Commander wouldn’t have shared that information with Nate. 

“What do you mean?” Juno asked, looking at Daena expectantly.   
“It might be better to let them come to one of us,” Daena said, “all we have to do is get Dan and Rory in on this. The Commander hasn’t forbidden us from meeting with them, did she?”  
“No,” Nate said, “she didn’t.”  
“Then it’s simple,” Daena said, “we wait for them to reach out to the next recruit. Whoever they pick can get them into contact with the rest of us.”  
“I’m not sure if I like that plan any better,” Nate said sourly.   
“Nate, two strange men are after our _pregnant_ Commander,” Juno said, “I am not standing by while two assholes threaten the woman who got me out of that godforsaken tower.”   
“She picked me up and put me back together during the Blight,” Daena said, “I’m with Juno.” Nate sighed.  
“Fine,” he said, “but maybe tell her about what you’re planning so she can weigh in?”  
“You don’t think she’ll forbid it?” Daena asked.  
“No, I don’t think she will,” Nate said, “one way or another, those Wardens are getting us involved, they simply started with me.”

“Look at you, all loyal to the Commander,” Juno quipped.   
“It’s an improvement,” Daena nodded. Meanwhile Nate’s ears turned red.  
“I- she-” he stammered, feeling the blush creep to his cheeks and down his neck, “we had a good talk, alright,” he finally said, “I’m moving on.”  
“Good for you Nate,” Juno said with a smirk. Daena didn’t weigh in but the look she gave him said enough.   
“You’ve been listening to Dan, haven’t you?” Nate said wryly, “you know he’s full of shit, right?”  
“Oh yeah, but that blush looks good on you,” Juno replied playfully.  
“Don’t tease the poor guy,” Daena said, “let’s go find Rory and Dan.”

* * *

“Fela? Are you here?” Alistair called as he entered their chambers.  
“I’m in the bedroom,” she called back. Alistair felt more than a little relieved when he heard her answer, quickly making his way to the bedroom.

“Hi,” she said when he appeared in the doorway, putting her book on a nightstand.  
“Hey,” he said with a self-conscious smile, “are you still mad?”  
“No,” she replied, “are you?”  
“Nah,” he replied and moved to sit on the bed next to her. She immediately curled up under his arm, wrapping her own arms around him.  
“Sorry I hit you,” she said quietly.  
“Nah, I shouldn’t have grabbed you,” he replied, “it’s ok.”

“Where did you go?” he asked.  
“The library roof,” she replied.  
“I couldn’t find you,” Alistair said.  
“I know, that was kind of the point,” she answered.  
“Listen, I get that you need to be alone sometimes, but not knowing where you were, or even where to look… Just promise me you won’t go somewhere I can’t find you again,” he said gently.   
“Promise to leave me be when we’re having a fight?” she asked.  
“I promise,” he said.   
“Then you have a deal,” she replied, “most of them are difficult to get to nowadays anyway.”  
“I don’t think we generally encourage pregnant women to climb onto a roof,” he chuckled.  
“It’s not very practical,” she replied with a lopsided smile.

“So, Fergus suggested we figure out a way to get those Grey Wardens to leave Denerim,” Alistair said.  
“Hmm, that’s not a bad idea,” she replied, “if we can get them to go to Orzammar they could ‘get lost’ in the Deep Roads.”   
“But, he also pointed out we’re not entirely certain they mean the baby harm,” he continued, “and that I may have experienced a fit of parental rage.” Fela chuckled at that.  
“And what do you think of that assessment?” she asked.   
“He’s probably right,” Alistair admitted.

“So what do you want to do now?” she asked.  
“I think, we should probably sleep on it,” he said and pulled her a little closer.  
“Alright, I can do that,” she replied.   
“You already came up with a plan, didn’t you?” Alistair said flatly.  
“It can wait until morning,” she shrugged.  
“Good,” he replied and kissed the top of her head, “I just want you close to me right now.”  
“I can _definitely_ do that,” she replied contently.

Fela quickly fell asleep in Alistair’s arms. She had a pretty busy day, exciting too, and she was glad for that. But being pregnant made her tired, and Alistair was warm and comfortable. Alistair found it pacified him somewhat to have her sleep in his arms, protected and safe. That was all he wanted, really. She’d wake up eventually and go back to doing her own thing, but for now she was safe in his arms.

He needed it as much as she did, perhaps even more.


	86. 'Vanish Mysteriously'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are hatched and put into motion.

“So, your plan is to have them meet with someone else, and then spy on them?” Alistair surmised.   
“In a nutshell, yes,” Fela replied, “but feel free to offer ideas.”  
“Fergus might be a good link,” Alistair mused, “but wouldn’t the link with you be too obvious?”  
“Probably,” she said, “but maybe our third party doesn’t even need to know I’m there.”  
“Did you have anyone in mind?” Alistair asked.   
“My recruits would be too obvious, so would Eamon, Magnus, Teagan, and Fergus,” she replied, “but… perhaps we shouldn’t be looking at _our_ contacts, but those of others.”  
“So we get a middle-man,” Alistair said.   
“Yes, preferably someone mentioned in the log or indirectly connected to it,” Fela answered, “they’ll think they are following a lead.”  
“So who fits the bill?” Alistair asked.   
“The innkeep at the Gnawed Noble,” Fela said, “we took care of the cultists that threatened him and his family, we know he is open to questionable ‘jobs,’ and he’s right here in the city. And it would make sense he’s a rumour monger, he’s an innkeep, of course he hears stories from all over the country.”

Alistair thought about it for a moment. It was a clever play, it wouldn’t be too difficult to distance themselves from whatever she planned on having the innkeep leak to the Grey Wardens.

“How would you spy on that conversation though? That would mean getting you into the Gnawed Noble first,” he said.   
“The conversation with the innkeep isn’t necessarily the one we want to spy on,” she replied, “I don’t plan on waiting until they decide to go to the Gnawed Noble on their own, that could take too long.”  
“So we’ll need someone else to mention that innkeep first,” Alistair concluded.   
“They have already contacted Nate, it’s only a matter of time before they try another recruit,” Fela said, “I just need to make sure I know which one.”  
“Well, they’re pretty loyal to you, that shouldn’t be too difficult,” Alistair said, “that way we could lure them closer to the compound, giving you the opportunity to watch and listen.”  
“Exactly.”

“Alright, let’s break it down,” Alistair said as he rose to find pen and paper. He wrote ‘getting rid of nosy Wardens’ at the top. Under that, he wrote ‘first contact; recruit,’ ‘second contact; innkeep,’ and lastly, ‘vanish mysteriously.’ He pointed at that last one.  
“We’ll get to this bit after we figure out how we’re going to get there, let’s start with the first contact.”  
“Easy enough, I’ll go talk to my recruits and instruct them to let me know the second two strangers approach them with questions about their Commander. Once one of them makes contact, we arrange a meeting in a place of our choosing from where I can safely listen in and watch. I’ll instruct the recruit on mentioning the innkeep, depending on who they talk to I might want to use a different strategy,” Fela surmised.   
“Alright,” Alistair said as he quickly penned down the steps Fela just listed, “now the innkeep, what do we want him to tell the Grey Wardens and how are we going to get him to do that.”  
“Well… ties with Orzammar have been cooling,” Fela began, “and they do have the Deep Roads, if we want them to disappear, that seems like the place to do it. But I’m not sure we can get them to go into the Deep Roads with just the two of them, even we took a team with us. Keeping that in mind, perhaps the Brecillian Forest is a better option.”  
“That could work,” Alistair mused, “do you think the Dalish would be willing to help?”  
“They might not even have to, we searched for days, and we had a lot more people to do it with,” Fela said, “it could take them weeks or even months to find the Dalish, they don’t have a shape changer like we did. In the meantime, they could ‘get lost.’”  
“So we’re literally sending them into the woods, and we make sure they don’t come out,” Alistair surmised and wrote ‘into the woods’ under ‘second contact; innkeep’ and drew an arrow to where he had written ‘vanish mysteriously.’

“What do we want the innkeep to tell them, how is he going to make them go there?” Alistair continued.   
“I wrote about Zathrian in the log, and the stories about him are well known,” Fela began, “if we ever met anyone with mysterious powers, it was him…” then she grinned, “ that or the hermit, who lived in a tree stump deep in the forest.”  
“The hermit might be too easily dismissed, but I like the idea of having them go that deep into the forest, all we would need to do is send someone to him to tell him they’re Templars disguised as Grey Wardens,” Alistair said thoughtfully.  
“Other than that, Zathrian was a crazy blood mage that managed to survive for centuries, who is to say I didn’t steal one of his secrets? He was ancient, if anybody knew old magic is was him.”   
“It would certainly draw attention away from the baby, if it had anything to do with your survival it should have been born months ago, they can’t reasonably connect the two,” Alistair said,  
“Exactly, they disappear while asking after our child, well that’s obvious. But if they disappear chasing a lead on my survival in the Brecillian Forest, now that could just be a coincidence, the Brecillian Forest is a dangerous place, after all.”

Alistair added ‘crazy blood mage,’ and ‘crazy hermit,’ to his notes.   
“Now the innkeep, do we bribe him, or did you have something more subtle planned?” he said.  
“I’m not going to leak rumours about finding ancient magic that lead to my survival, because that could be too easily connected to Morrigan as one of Flemeth’s daughters. And it would confirm what those Wardens think about our success, that we cheated,” Fela said.  
“So… what if we cut out that innkeep, have one of your recruits say something ‘stupid by accident?’” Alistair asked.   
“Because they need to feel like they are chasing down a lead, a carrot and stick would be too obvious,” Fela said, watching Alistair write ‘make them feel like they’re chasing a lead’ at the bottom of his page and accentuate it with a thick line drawn under it. Next he added a little drawing of a carrot on a stick and drew a cross through it.

“A bribe then?” Alistair suggested.  
“Yes, but I think we should have someone else bribe him.”  
“Like who?”  
“Someone who isn’t tied to the Grey Wardens… perhaps… Soris, Bann Shianni’s cousin, but where would he have gotten the money… Although, they wouldn’t expect elves from the Alienage to like their Monarchs much…”  
“Hold on, didn’t you write about Soris in your log?” Alistair asked.  
“Yes, but we could easily disguise him and let him pretend he’s someone else, Dan or Zevran could help with that,” Fela said. Alistair nodded, adding ‘bribe innkeep,’ ‘disguise,’ and ‘Soris’ to the list.

“Now as for vanishing mysteriously,” Alistair said, “if we’re luring them to the Brecillian Forest, all we need to do is take any recognisable equipment off the bodies and leave them for wild animals to eat. That should hide any wounds we inflict too.”   
“Perfect, but now the tricky part,” Fela said, “what should they expect to find?”

Alistair thought on that for a moment, drumming his fingers against his pen.  
“Zathrian knew blood magic, and the Grey Wardens aren’t necessarily opposed to that, but it would look bad for two Monarchs if they were tied to any blood magic practices,” he began, “what if… what if the innkeep said that there is more to how Zathrian died, that is wasn’t just breaking the curse that did it… But, rather, you. After you got some forbidden knowledge off of him?”  
“Tying up loose ends after gaining questionable knowledge is certainly what they would expect us to do. Zathrian _is_ dead though.”  
“Keeper Lanaya isn’t,” Alistair said, “he mentored her since she showed the first signs of magic, if there is anyone who might know what Zathrian knew, it would be her. And you wouldn’t have killed her because you needed her to honour the treaty.”  
“Clever,” she said appreciatively, “that sounds like something I would do…”

Alistair wrote ‘Zathrian’s knowledge,’ and ‘Keeper Lanaya.’  
“One last thing, they’re bound to ask,” Fela said, “where should our innkeep claim he got this information from? What’s his source? Dalish don’t usually like going into cities and innkeeps usually like to stay in their inns.”  
“Hmm… soldiers or mercenaries would have no business knowing such a thing…” Alistair began, “what about Riordan? The Grey Warden’s cache is close to the Gnawed Noble, and he was in Denerim.”   
“Hmm… we have to be _very_ careful, it could easily get out of control if other Grey Wardens get wind of this,” Fela said, “it could make Riordan’s death a problem too, if they think I am indeed in the habit of tying up loose ends.”  
“Right, pointing to Riordan as the source would be too risky. But, what if we add a little truth?” Alistair said.   
“I’m listening,” Fela said.  
“Soris is elven, and you planned on having him wear a disguise anyway, why not let the innkeep reveal _him_ as the source. He _could_ have contacts with Dalish clans, it’s not unheard of. And once he ditches the disguise, well the man who told the innkeep of this lead will never be found.” Fela smiled.  
“That’s perfect,” she said, “write that down.”

Alistair wrote ‘untraceable source’ and drew an arrow to ‘Soris’ and ‘disguise.’  
“We have them followed, wait until they are deep in the Brecillian Forest, and take them out. We take anything that might identify them as Grey Wardens, destroy it, and leave the bodies to be eaten by wild animals,” Alistair said as he pointed at ‘vanish mysteriously.’  
“It’s looking pretty solid,” he said thoughtfully, “especially if we keep everyone on a need-to-know basis. The innkeep won’t be connected to us if he can’t find the man who bribed him. And Soris owes you a great deal, I don’t think we need to worry about him talking to anybody. And if none of the people involved in getting them out of the city are involved in the actual take down, the more fragmented any information surrounding this lead would be. The other Grey Wardens could try to trace it, but they wouldn’t get anywhere. Unless Soris talks they’ll never connect him to the man who bribed the innkeep. And if they decide to follow up on it, they could end up searching the Brecillian Forest for months and find nothing.”

“So, what do you think?” Fela asked.   
“I think you’re back to playing puppet master,” he replied playfully, “I’ll talk to Shianni, see if she can get us into contact with Soris without drawing too much attention. And you, have some recruits to instruct.” Fela smiled and kissed his cheek.  
“On it,” she said and moved to get up but Alistair pulled her back for a long, luxurious kiss.  
“I love you,” he said, and kissed her again. She wound her fingers in his hair as she kissed him back.   
“I love you too, Alistair,” she replied softly.  
“You know why I need you to be safe, right?” he asked gently.  
“I do, honey, don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen,” she replied reassuringly, “I’ll be back soon.”

Alistair burned his notes in the hearth after committing them to memory. Such things could not be left lying around, after all.

* * *

As it turned out, the Junior Wardens had already been hatching plans of their own.

Mostly it just amused Fela, but she didn’t necessarily like how willing they were to be dragged into her scheming. She didn’t even have to ask, they straight up offered it themselves after talking it through with the five of them. Apparently they were outraged that there were two strange Wardens investigating their Commander and were determined to find out more about these strange men. She didn’t forbid them from doing that. Actually, she preferred to be a part of it. But they were rash. Quick to make assumptions and draw conclusions without having the full picture. They’d need guidance. But as soon as the Grey Wardens from the Anderfells were out of the city, the problem would be resolved.

“Alright, just so we’re very clear,” Fela said, “I am not commanding you to spy on my behalf, in fact, I am discouraging it. But if you _must,_ then at least follow my lead. I don’t want any of you to run off on their own, or start improvising new methods to help or gather information. If you do that, I’ll be forced to stop you and clean up your mess, and nobody wants that.”

They nodded in unison.

“Good,” Fela said with a nod, “you already know these guys are Grey Wardens from the Anderfells, and they have been investigating me. Other than the fact that they seem to mistrust me, we have no idea why and what they hope to accomplish. That means, we don’t know if they mean any harm. At the same time, my husband and I have yet to be informed of their presence. We aren’t supposed to know they are here, and we would like them to keep thinking that we indeed have no clue.

“Now, what I want you to do, is wait for any invitation or correspondence from either of these men. Nate has already met with them, check with him if you aren’t certain. But before you set up a meet, you inform me. I want to listen in on any conversations you might have with them in order to gather my own information. I’ve relied on others for too long, but I can’t go speak to them myself without giving my advantage away. You don’t meet with them without me knowing, understood?”

More nods.

“Very good,” she continued, “once one of you has established contact, you come to me to set up a meeting. Depending on who that might be, I have come up with different strategies to bait them into giving more information than they intend to. I’ll prepare you for your meeting with them personally, and I’ll have extra eyes on you at all times. If anything happens, my people will step in, it’s their job so I’d rather have my spies and guards fight an angry Grey Warden with a dagger than one of you guys, should it come to that.”

Still more nods.

“Any questions?” Fela asked expectantly.

“Yes,” Juno said, “Nate said this is about how you killed the Archdemon, and that you survived. Why is that important to them?”  
“I’m not sure,” Fela said honestly, “but, in previous Blights, the Grey Warden who dealt the killing blow always died. I didn’t, and I think that makes them antsy because they don’t understand what happened.”  
“Yeah, Nate said that, but I don’t understand what those Wardens gain from that,” Juno replied.  
“I can’t answer that question, but personally, I think they are afraid that the Grey Wardens will be blamed for… I’m not sure what, really…When I survived killing the Archdemon, something happened that they can’t explain, and if it backfires it’ll put them in an awkward position.”  
“Unless they find someone to blame,” Daena said darkly, “and who better than you.”  
“Yes, but the fact that they are still investigating means they don’t have anything to burn me with,” Fela said.   
“Yet,” Daena said flatly, Fela ignored it. And it’s underlying implication.

“I need to know what they are here for, what they think they know,” Fela said, “that’s where you guys come in. I can’t go talk to them myself, but I can watch and listen when one of _you_ talks to them.”  
“So, what happened,” Rory asked with a frown, “when you killed the Archdemon?”  
“I jammed a ballista bolt into its skull,” Fela said dryly, then sighed and decided she could give more of an explanation.

“It stopped moving, and then light started to escape from it. It hurt, a _lot,_ I tried to let go and get away, but I couldn’t move. I passed out when the light had enveloped me and woke up three days later, absolutely trashed.”  
“What was it?” Dan asked.   
“The light? I’m not sure,” Fela replied, “an Archdemon is an Old God, found and tainted by darkspawn in the Deep Roads. When an Archdemon is killed, its soul seeks out the nearest tainted creature. As its killer, that was me. Both of our souls should have been destroyed.”  
“But you’re still here,” Dan said with a nod.  
“Whatever happened, that Archdemon is dead,” Rory shrugged, “the horde fell apart after a bright flash, coming from Fort Drakon. That must have been you killing it. No Archdemon, no horde.”  
“And yet, they linger on the surface,” Fela said, “things aren’t happening as they expected, in ways that they can’t explain. Yet the world will look to the Order if something indicates the Blight isn’t over.”  
“Like what?” Juno snorted, “nothing indicates there is still a Blight going on, not even those unorganised darkspawn bands that linger on the surface.”  
“I guess they want to be prepared,” Fela shrugged, “it doesn’t matter, the Blight is over, there won’t be a sign that it isn’t. The country is _healing_ for fuck’s sake, we did what we had to do.”

“What are you going to do about them?” Juno asked.   
“Let me worry about that,” Fela said, “you shouldn’t even be involved in the first place.” Juno frowned.   
“She means, the less we know, the better,” Daena translated.  
“Now you’re making it sound like an elaborate assassination plan,” Fela said with a pointed look. Of course, it _was_ an elaborate assassination plan, but they didn’t need to know that. Not because they would object, but because they would all too readily go along with it.  
“So, what _are_ we doing?” Dan asked.  
“Gathering information,” Fela said, “I still need Weisshaupt, but I need to know what I’m up against. And then, well, we’ll see if I can’t turn this around. The Order _could_ gain from this, but not if we’re too busy infighting to focus on rebuilding. The fifth Blight should be enough proof that we _need_ the Order. There is still so much we don’t understand about the Blight and the Taint, we can’t afford to isolate ourselves by making an enemy out of Weisshaupt. So no funny business, I mean it.”

It was the truth, just not the whole truth. She was starting to understand why the Order was so secretive, she was only sharing half-truths most of the time. Because the whole truth opened up a cesspit of added risks, like someone getting wind of Morrigan bearing a child with the soul of an Old God. Maybe that’s why Duncan was so… glum, troubled.

There was always another secret, and now Fela was the one keeping them.

“There is something else, Commander,” Nate said.   
“Alright, what is it?” Fela replied.   
“You said you suspect those Grey Wardens took your log,” he began.  
“Correct.”  
“We know Stroud has been looking among the staff, he even checked all of us, and we know there are two boys missing,” Nate finished. Fela frowned.  
“Yes, a runner named Daniel, and a servant boy from the compound named Christopher,” Fela said, “we are still looking for them. Where are you going with this?”  
“Shouldn’t we be helping with that?” Nate asked.   
“In what way?” Fela countered and cocked her head.  
“We could mention the disappearances, see how they respond,” Nate replied. Fela thought about it for a moment, Nate made a good point. The other Wardens were bound to ask if anything struck them as odd, a missing kid was certainly odd, but two? Well, that could yield interesting results. Would they try to pin it on her? Would they evade the subject?

“Good idea,” Fela finally said, “but you have to be careful, don’t give them reason to suspect that we know, or even suspect anything, alright?” Nate nodded.  
“We’ll use your suggestion when I prepare each of you for your meeting,” she finally said, “anything else?” she looked around but no more questions were forthcoming.

“Alright then,” she said with a nod, “if you have any more questions, tell Stroud he’ll let me know. If it can’t wait, you come find me directly. The staff has already been informed, they won’t turn you away.”

Now, on to preparations for phase two.

* * *

“So, what am I supposed to tell them exactly?” Soris asked with a slight frown.   
“What do you know about what happened in the Brecillian Forest during the Blight?” Fela asked in return. Soris frowned a little deeper.   
“You broke a werewolf curse, so the Dalish could hold up their end of the treaty,” he answered.   
“Yes, but what about _how_ we did that,” Fela encouraged.  
“A blood mage,” he replied hesitantly, “it was something with a blood mage.”  
“A blood mage who was also a Keeper, though that isn’t widely known,” Fela said, “you can see why we would want to keep that under wraps.” Soris nodded. No need to suggest that there was a reason for the Templars to start investigating passing Dalish clans. He appreciated that.

“You’ll be giving a bit of truth,” Fela said, “for the lie to be built upon. Zathrian, the blood mage who created the werewolf curse, and died breaking it in the end, was a Keeper. And this one, was ancient. He had survived for centuries, relying on ancient magic long since forgotten. It isn’t unthinkable, that I might have learned something from someone so adept at staying alive. And since the Dalish tend to be reclusive, little is known about the magic Keepers truly wield, it would be easy for them to hide it, after all. If there is any information to be found on how I survived something that should have killed me, it’s probably there.”

“ _Is_ it there?” Soris asked bluntly. Fela laughed.  
“Of course not,” she replied, “but I need them out of this city.”  
“If I may ask, why is that important to you?” Soris asked hesitantly. Fela paused for a moment, she trusted Soris well enough but that didn’t mean it was a good idea to tell him everything. The less he knew, the better.

“Does it really matter?” she asked, hoping to evade the question.  
“With all due respect your Grace, it is clear you consider these men a problem. And if they were here to rebuild the Order, I don’t think you would be asking me to plant information that will lead them out of the city.”  
“And bribing a man,” Fela added.   
“That too,” Soris assented. Fela sighed.

“You may have noticed, I am currently _very_ pregnant,” she said gesturing down at herself, “these men, Grey Wardens from the Anderfells, have been asking too many questions, speaking to too many people, but they have yet to speak to me.”  
“I see,” Soris said with a nod, “hence why the information can’t be allowed to be tracked back to you, you’re not supposed to know they are here and what they are doing.”  
“And that’s just about all you need to know,” Fela replied, “to keep ends neat, the innkeep won’t know who you were, hence the disguise. The man who gave him the information therefore, will never be found.”  
“And therefore, you won’t be found,” Soris concluded, “unless I talk to someone.”

“I’m not implying you are a loose end Soris,” Fela said gently, “I am taking every precaution I can to make sure this can’t be traced back to you. And besides, you are not the only one who knows a thing or two about my motivations. There are others who are much more easily found. All of whom, I trust. But that doesn’t mean I tell everybody everything.”  
“Oh that’s fine,” Soris said, “really, I know how this kind of thing works. But, well, I owe you my freedom, and possibly my life, considering you left Vaughan to walk around freely for a while after slaying, what’s-his-name, Howl?”  
“Howe,” Fela said with a nod.   
“That’s the one, anyway, you’ve done much for me, my family, and the Alienage itself. Things are better now. I am just… concerned I suppose. I know that’s silly, considering you took down an Archdemon, but, you can call on me any time, your Grace.”  
“Thank you, Soris,” Fela said honestly, “but I’d rather not get you in trouble on my behalf, this is shifty enough as it is.”  
“No trouble at all, your Grace,” Soris said with a wide smile, “I happen to be a very shifty man, and I don’t think what we’re doing is technically illegal.”  
“Let’s keep it that way,” Fela replied and returned the smile, “do you know what to do?”  
“Yes.”  
“Recite it back to me.”

* * *

Fela returned to the royal chambers in a good mood. She had gotten quite a bit of work done, now all they had to do was wait.

Alistair was still working, so she had the rest of the afternoon to herself. She told the guards outside the door that she would be indisposed and did not wish to be disturbed by anyone but her husband. Next she send a servant to have a bath drawn, and changed to a comfortable robe before plopping down in front of the hearth. Now was the time to get comfortable, and wait for her opponent to enter her trap.

Unfortunately, Fela had never been very good at waiting.

She tried reading a book, as a way to distract herself, but soon found her thoughts wandering into other directions instead. There was something else that, supposedly, only Asher, Fergus, Zevran, and Alistair knew about. Something that could have something to do with why their colleagues from the Anderfells were sneaking around instead of coming to talk to her.

Alistair had pointed it out scant days after she’d regained consciousness from what Fela now called her ‘Archdemon-killing-coma.’ They had already known Fela was capable of absorbing the emotions of others, whether they wanted her to or not. But now, she seemed to be influencing them as well. It had only happened at times that she felt extreme emotions at first, anger and sadness mostly. But later on, she’d figured out how to do it during sex, extending her connection to physical sensation as well as emotional. Which was great, really, it was _intense._ But it also suggested she could do more.

Nobody but Alistair and Fela knew about that last bit, so they were fine on that front.

The problem was with those first raw moments and the dark shadows that had gathered around her when they happened. And _those_ , had been observed by more people than Fela was comfortable with by now. Nate, Juno, Ser Gregoir, Ser Carrol, every guard that was on duty the day that the Crows attacked her, Ignacio… Whatever they concluded, Fela could only guess. But it was unlikely they fully understood what had happened, and it didn’t look like any known school of magic.

Did they know?

It would explain why the Anders Wardens were trying to keep their presence a secret. But they couldn’t have anticipated her ability to sense the Taint in others to be as keen as it had become. Had the Taint not given them away immediately, they might have managed to remain unnoticed a bit longer. Their ruse might have even worked. As it was, Fela held the advantage. She just didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle yet.

Fela went over the changes within herself in her head. Her ability to sense Tainted creatures had progressed immensely, though it had already been somewhat ‘suspiciously keen’ before killing the Archdemon. Alistair claimed her Taint felt different to him now, like a melody. Fela didn’t like how similar that was to how the Archdemon had felt through the Taint. Anybody with Blight disease during the Fifth Blight had claimed to hear a song, the very same song Grey Wardens started hearing when their time was nigh, it came from the Archdemon.

The Archdemon was dead now though, and none of the patients with Blight disease had mentioned another song. As far as Fela knew, they didn’t hear hers. Only Alistair did. But what of other Grey Wardens? Older, more experienced Wardens who had honed their ability to sense other Blighted creatures. If she wanted to put it to the test, she’d have to find someone she could trust _and_ had learned to sense other creatures besides darkspawn through the Taint. There was a chance Stroud could do it, but he reported back to Adamant Fortress. She didn’t want to put him in a position where he had to withhold information, she had made this point before while discussing the theft of her log. This was precisely the kind of information she’d been talking about back then. Because Fela did _not_ want that kind of information reported back to Adamant Fortress, but Stroud had his orders.

She decided to put a pin in that for now. There were other ways to explore her new… talents. For example, Urthemiel had said she drew upon the Fade, did that mean a Templar could stop her from doing it? Although, exploring that avenue would involve Alistair smiting her. She’d seen what that could do to a mage. Putting it to the test while she was pregnant would be pretty stupid. Another one to put a pin in. The part that included active experimentation at least. However, she did have some past experiences to consider.

Ever since the battle of Denerim, whenever Alistair used a Templar ability, she could feel it. She’d first noticed it while going after the emissary general in the Alienage, it was a light tingling sensation, and not at all unpleasant. He’d been draining the creature’s mana and dispelled its magic before it could hit her with a lightning bolt. Fela didn’t have any mana, if she did, Alistair’s abilities would have affected her in a different way. Certainly not a pleasant one.

It was possible, that Alistair had only targeted the emissary general in particular. She knew he could affect only specific people or items if he put his mind to it. Alistair didn’t necessarily create an area of effect, he’d proven that when they were sneaking around Fort Drakon looking for a way out. But would he do the same thing on a massive battlefield when his attention was divided between several different tasks? Not the least of which, was staying alive.

Fela’s thoughts were interrupted when a knock on the door told her the servants were done drawing her a bath. She decided she’d talk it over with Alistair once he was done working for the day, she’d need his input on this. For now, the prospect of warm water relieving her aching back was enticing enough that she left the sofa and the crackling hearth.

Asher followed. To make sure there were no enemies in the bathroom.

You could never be _too_ sure.

* * *

Juno sat in the common room, surrounded by books, papers, scrolls, and even an old clay tablet or two.

She was trying to determine how the Commander could have survived killing the Archdemon, if she could come up with an explanation, that would take some of the heat off the Ferelden Chapter.

The others had tried to help. But among the five of them, Juno was the only one with academic aptitude. It wasn’t like the other Wardens weren’t intelligent enough, Juno considered each of them to be highly intelligent in fact, it was just that they didn’t spend most of their lives in libraries. Juno probably wouldn’t have either if she hadn’t been locked in the Circle Tower for being a mage. But, she was. So going though stuffy texts over and over again, picking every single sentence apart, came a lot more naturally to her than it did to Dan, Deana, and Rory. Nate was well educated, as all noble sons usually were. But being well educated didn’t make you an academic. Absorbing knowledge was one thing. Critical analysis and translating theory to practice, was something entirely different.

Rory sat next to her, looking at the notes she had taken.

“So, what are you doing? Precisely?” he asked.  
“I’m collecting everything we currently know about the Taint,” Juno replied without looking up from her tome, “I need a theoretical base to start with before I can form a thesis.”  
“But if we already have all that knowledge in these texts, why are you writing it all down again?” he asked. Juno looked up at him briefly.  
“Because it fragmented, scattered, I need an overview,” she replied.  
“And then?”  
“And then I'm going to determine which information is reliable and which isn’t,” she replied.   
“There is unreliable information here?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“Of course there is,” Juno said and picked up an old yellowed document, “this is an account from a Grey Warden who witnessed the slaying of the fourth Archdemon, Andoral. Now, you’d think that a Grey Warden would be a reliable source, but if you read his account, you’ll see it if full of his own interpretations and conclusions. He doesn’t just describe what he witnessed, he _interprets_ what he witnessed, making it impossible to determine what is factual knowledge and what isn’t. Here look,” she pointed at a passage, “here he claims that the Archdemon ‘ate’ some of its victims during the battle.”  
“And?” Rory asked with a frown.  
“And, while that may have been what it looked like to this guy, doesn’t mean that an Archdemon takes a lunchbreak halfway through its rampage. We don’t even know if they eat at all. They _bite_ we know that for certain. But biting is not the same as eating.”  
“So, this guy claims an Archdemon will eat some of its victims,” Rory said with a shrug, “I don’t see how that’s important.”  
“The truth of whether an Archdemon eats its victims isn’t, but it tells me that this guy does not separate observations from interpretations. Meaning that claims he makes are less reliable because they might just be ‘his way of seeing it’ but that doesn’t mean he is correct in his assessment,” Juno replied, “I have to judge the sources on their reliability so I can determine what is _actual_ knowledge and what isn’t.”   
“If you go about it that way, there is very little reliable information here,” Rory said as he looked around.   
“I know, but I would have a solid starting point at least,” Juno said, “right now, it’s just one big mess of unorganised information and claims. We could argue about an Archdemon’s eating habits endlessly and get nowhere. Let alone surviving killing one.” Juno added that last bit a little wistfully.

“Wouldn’t the Commander be the most reliable source?” Rory asked.  
“Of course she is,” Juno said, “but she is also the only one who ever survived killing it. That’s just one person against all of this,” she said and gestured around, “besides, she already told us she isn’t sure about how she survived, just that she did.”  
“She’s prickly about it though,” Rory mused, “I spoke to Germain a while ago, he said that the Commander refused to tell them anything about her battle with the Archdemon when they came to Denerim.”  
“Did he also tell you why?” Juno asked pointedly.   
“Well, perhaps it’s not so strange to be prickly about that after being accused of… actually, what _are_ the other Wardens accusing her of?” Rory replied, “even _they_ don’t seem to be sure what it is they assume she did wrong.”   
“Well, there you go,” Juno said and turned back to the tome she had been reading, “besides, that was before they had formed a working relationship and way before we were even recruited. It is not the same as it was.”  
“I suppose not,” he said, “I still don’t understand why it’s such a big deal she’s still alive. Why not consider it a bonus?”  
“Predictability, safety, familiarity, ego’s,” Juno replied with a dismissive gesture, “who knows, it could be anything.”

“Ego’s?”  
“Well, don’t you think it makes the Grey Wardens from the Anderfells and Orlais look a little impotent if defeating Blights has always taken decades and hundreds of thousands of Grey Warden sacrifices, while the Commander and the King did it within the span of a year with just the two of them?” Juno replied.   
“Not really, the Order was outlawed here when the Fifth Blight took place,” Rory said, “they would have to fight a war on two fronts.”  
“The Commander and the King did,” Juno pointed out, “and they didn’t have the support of the Order _or_ their country’s rulers.”   
“Alright, I see your point,” Rory conceded, “I guess that to most that would be the more compelling argument.”  
“No, the more compelling argument, is that the Grey Wardens from Orlais and the Anderfells were prepared to wait for the Blight to reach their borders, leaving Ferelden to be destroyed,” Juno replied, “the Commander has not made this argument yet, but it is what happened. The Order would have let Ferelden burn, and all of us along with it.”

Rory frowned again. He did that a lot whenever they spoke about similar matters. Juno figured it was because, even though Rory was a soldier, he was somewhat innocent in nature. He probably believed that things simply were what they were and that they would just have to make the best of it. And he was right. But he tended to ignore the reasons _why_ things got to be as they were. Sometimes, the ‘why’ of things didn’t matter as much. Why did trees have green leaves? Nobody cared, they just were. But in this case, with the Grey Wardens apparently divided amongst themselves about the Commander’s role in stopping the Blight, the why of things mattered because it would impact the future and their place in it.

To Juno, making the best of things meant working to understand them so she could influence them to her benefit. Life in the Circle Tower had taught her that she needed to take control where she could, lest someone else took it. Nobody was going to protect her, she could only try her best to protect herself. That simply wasn’t how Rory grew up. He’d never needed to anticipate another person’s motives in order to avoid violence and abuse, Juno did. Some Templars feared magic, and those were the most dangerous ones, especially if you couldn’t run from them because you were locked up in a tower. So she made herself seem small and unthreatening, always hiding, staying out of sight. Being insignificant enough to ignore. To do that successfully, she had needed to understand why they treated her the way they did. The ‘’why’ of things had allowed her to figure out a way to survive.

If it had been Rory in that tower, big, strong, no magic, male, things would have been very different. But she would never wish that upon him. Just like he would never have wished it upon Juno. Not that he could have done anything about it even if he had known. In that respect, she agreed with him. Things were what they were, they simply had to make the best of it. It was no use feeling sorry for herself and the life she’d had just because someone else had a better one. Sometimes, the why of things was a simple and blunt truth; the Chantry _hated_ mages. And that was why they were forced to live as they did. Imprisoned. Oppressed.

That didn’t mean Juno believed the Circle of Magi didn’t offer sorely needed guidance and training for young mages. They needed the Circle. She just didn’t believe they needed the Chantry and its Templars.

“How long have you been at this?” Rory asked after a while. Juno glanced out the window to gauge the sun’s position.  
“A few hours,” she replied, “I got started right away after drills.”  
“Why don’t you take a break for a bit,” Rory offered.  
“To do what?” she asked without looking up from her tome.  
“Get some fresh air, clear your mind for a bit,” he said with a shrug.  
“My mind is fine,” she replied.   
“Come on,” he said playfully, “come take a break and have a drink with ‘uncle Rory.’ I can show you a good time.” Juno looked up at him inquisitively and gave him a slight smile.  
“’Uncle Rory’ is going to show me a good time, huh?” she said mock suspiciously and looked him over, “you’d tear me away from my work you know, _very_ important work, I might add.”  
“Everything will still be here when you come back,” he said lightly, “besides, I can help. Just tell me what to do, _after_ that drink.” Juno smiled.

“Alright,” she said as she rose, “are we staying here or did you have a tavern in mind?”  
“For you, my lady, I’d suggest a nice tavern that requires a bit of a walk. It occurs to me you have been stuck in the same place for quite long enough,” Rory said with a slight bow. He had a point there.  
“How thoughtful of you,” she quipped, “any of the others coming?”  
“We could ask them,” Rory replied and offered her his arm.   
“Perhaps another time,” she replied and took his arm, “I rather like being asked to go out and have a drink, this is a whole new experience for me.” Rory chuckled at that.   
“Well then, allow me to make the most of this new experience,” he replied, “I’ve shown lots of girls a good time you know.”  
“Bragging about your own drinking prowess now, are we?” Juno challenged as the left the common room.   
“I wouldn’t call it prowess, but if you want to put it to the test, I’m game,” he answered.  
“A drinking game you say?” she replied, “it’s been a while since I’ve played one of those.”

“You had alcohol in the Tower?” he asked.  
“Of course we did,” Juno said with a wide smile, “producing a good bottle of wine involves more chemistry that you’d think. And we were stuck in there, so you know, we entertained ourselves as best we could.”  
“Makes sense, you can be imprisoned sober, or imprisoned drunk,” Rory answered playfully, “personally, I’d pick being imprisoned while drunk any day.”

* * *

Alistair found Fela dozing off in the tub.

She opened her eyes when he entered the bathroom and smiled.  
“Hi.”  
“Hey, love,” he replied and leaned against the wall.  
“Did you have a good day?” she asked.   
“It was fine,” he said, “I’m more interested in hearing about yours.”  
“I did all I could for now,” she said with a sigh, “join me?”

Fela watched as Alistair disrobed, a lazy smile playing around her lips.

“What?” he asked when he noticed her watching him.  
“Just admiring you,” she replied, making him smile deviously.  
“You like what you see?” he said and flexed his arms a little. Fela’s smile turned from lazy to sinful.  
“Oh yes,” she answered, “very much.”  
“Good,” he chuckled, “you married me, you’re stuck with me forever.”  
“You make it sound like it’s a punishment to be married to you,” Fela quipped.  
“To some, it might be.”  
“Well, they’re idiots then, aren’t they?” Fela said pointedly, “that, or _I’m_ the idiot, and I find that very unlikely.”  
“So I should either take the compliment or imply you’re an idiot huh?” Alistair replied, “scooch.”  
“Precisely,” Fela said, a little smug, as she scooted forward a bit so Alistair could sit behind her, “you might hurt my noble ego.”  
“You have one of those?” he asked playfully as he stepped into the tub and sat down.  
“Of course I do,” she said and leaned back into his chest as he put his arms around her, “you should get one too.”  
“Wouldn’t mine be a royal one?” he quipped.   
“Sure, why not,” she sighed and closed her eyes again.

“How did your talk with Soris go?” Alistair asked after a brief silence.  
“It went well,” Fela replied, “he knows what to do, and I think he might be a little more experienced at this sort of thing than he let on.”  
“Good, and you talked to your recruits too?” he continued.   
“Yeah, those crazy bastards had actually already come up with a plan of their own,” Fela chuckled.   
“What, really?”  
“Yes,” she replied, “they intended to wait until another one of them was contacted and see if they could figure out what they are after.”  
“That’s pretty close to what you wanted them to do,” Alistair observed.   
“It is, but they’re too rash, they lack subtlety,” Fela replied.  
“What do you mean?” Alistair asked.   
“I think they underestimate those Wardens,” she explained, “they could get themselves in some serious shit but they’re just _too_ willing to go there.”  
“Sounds like they want to help.”  
“They do, but they seem to believe that means they have to get deeply involved and expose themselves to unnecessary risk,” Fela countered, “they don’t know what they are taking on.”  
“You’re still keeping them out of most of it,” Alistair said soothingly.  
“I just hope I can keep it that way,” she mumbled in reply.  
“They were going to get into some shit sooner or later, they’re Grey Wardens, it’s what we do,” Alistair said, “better that you’re there to guide them through it.”

They settled into silence. Fela knew Alistair was trying to make her feel better. And Alistair knew this wasn’t entirely about putting the recruits at risk. It was the combination of half-truths, omissions, and lies. Fela preferred honesty, it chafed at her that she couldn’t be transparent. Not without risking someone finding out about Morrigan bearing a child with the soul of an old god. Not without revealing herself to be more than the Grey Warden everyone believed her to be.

“I’ve been wondering about something,” Fela said, disturbing the silence.  
“Hmm?” Alistair replied, prompting her to explain further.  
“Urthemiel said I draw upon the Fade when I fight or… gaze into someone,” she began, “but he also said what I do isn’t like any magic he’s ever known. I don’t know how mages are connected to the Fade, but I do know they have mana, something which I never had. So how can I draw on it?”  
“Evidently, you don’t need to be a mage to be connected to the Fade, we all go there when we sleep, after all, so we’re all connected to it in some way or another,” Alistair replied.  
“Doesn’t explain how I do it,” Fela said, “but that’s not where I was going. I was wondering, if a Templar could stop me from doing it if he tried.”

“I… don’t think they could,” Alistair said slowly, “if my abilities affected you in any way, we would have known already.”  
“True, but you haven’t used them near me since the battle with the Archdemon,” Fela said, “and something changed since then.”  
“Well, you don’t have any mana to drain, you don’t cast spells I can cancel, and you simply aren’t a mage,” Alistair countered, “a Templar’s abilities don’t affect regular people. Only mages, demons, and active magical effects.”  
“Huh, first time I’ve ever been counted among ‘regular’ people,” Fela quipped.   
“You know what I mean,” Alistair said.  
“Yeah, yeah, I was joking,” she replied, “but during the battle of Denerim, when we went after that emissary general, I could _feel_ you draining its mana. A light tingle, on my skin.”

Alistair didn’t have a reply to that. She shouldn’t have been able to pick up on anything at all, since it wasn’t directed at her. And if it had been, it shouldn’t affect her, be it because she felt something or because he actually drained something from her. And the latter seemed unlikely. She would have noticed, it would have been a problem if it _did_ drain her of something.

“Are you _absolutely_ sure?” he asked hesitantly.  
“On second thought, might have been the darkspawn tickling me. _Yes_ I’m sure,” she replied impatiently.   
“That… shouldn’t be possible,” he replied thoughtfully, “if you were a Templar yourself, it might have been, but you’re not…”  
“We’re both Grey Wardens though, and I may not know much about the Taint, but we do seem particularly attuned to each other,” Fela replied.   
“For someone who doesn’t know much about the Taint you sure know how to use it,” Alistair countered.   
“I don’t, actually, it’s more instinctual,” Fela said slowly, “I know how to use it like I know how to use my arm. I just do it. Though I’m still figuring out the things I can do with this particular arm…”

“That’s…” Alistair sighed, “could you stop doing impossible things all the time? I mean, Andraste’s tits, Fela…”  
 _“Hey,”_ she snapped in an affronted tone, “just because you didn’t know it was possible doesn’t mean it should have been _im-_ possible.”  
“Figuring out people’s minds by just _looking_ at them, making a bunch of enemies into friends, meeting an Old God in the Fade, getting stuck in the Fade and figuring a way out of it, _twice,_ somehow connecting to me to share your physical and emotional experience, surviving _and_ stopping the fucking Blight, getting pregnant as a Grey Warden,” Alistair summed up, “I have more, should I go on?”  
“It’s a nice list but my point still stands,” she replied.  
“I guess it does, doesn’t it,” he answered and kissed her cheek, “you just keep on surprising me.”  
“Wasn’t it you who told Oghren that if he had list of expectations, he didn’t have the imagination to make a realistic one? And that was while we were skulking around the Deep Roads,” Fela said.  
“Oh yeah,” Alistair chuckled, “I said that right after you told me you speak six languages.”  
“Those were the good old days huh?” she replied playfully.   
“They sure were, blood and gore everywhere, sleeping in the dirt, _insane_ killing sprees,” he mused, “I miss them.”  
“Well, I could do with a nice killing spree,” Fela mumbled, “not enough people around who deserve it though…”  
“And not enough ways to get away with it,” he added with a nod.

“You know I’m starting to feel domesticated?” Fela said after a short moment of silence.  
“Well, I guess we both are, kind of…” he replied, “we had to rein in that part of ourselves to be effective at this new life.”  
“When those Crows attacked Zevran and me… I was kind of glad for the excuse…” Fela admitted.  
“Yeah, I could tell,” Alistair said, “and to be honest, I wish I ever got that kind of excuse… Not that I enjoy killing people, I just… It’s not that I _like_ violence, but it’s a good outlet. I miss having that.”  
“Me too,” Fela sighed.   
“We’ll be able to spar again soon,” he said soothingly and moved his hands to cradle her stomach. Fela chuckled.   
“You _say_ that but I seriously wonder if there is even going to be any time when we’re up to our elbows in nappies and rompers.”  
“We’ll figure something out,” he promised.

“Hey honey,” he asked after a brief, comfortable silence, “you’re not going to ask me to smite you, are you?”  
“I figured there was no way I’m getting you to do that anyway,” she replied, “I don’t even want you to so long as I’m pregnant.”  
“Good,” he replied, “because I’m not doing it.”

Fela could think of a few reasons why he should. Not until after the baby was born of course, but if smiting her _did_ have some effect, it would be better to know about it before this particular ability was used against her by an actual enemy. The only way that would ever happen was if a Templar did it, and if any Templar but Alistair did, it would be because he was trying to subdue, or even kill, her. Unless she found someone else she could trust to do it in Alistair’s stead, but he’d be livid with her if she did.

She didn’t offer any of her arguments though, there was no point to it.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” she said instead.   
“When haven’t you?” Alistair quipped.   
“The Grey Wardens from the Anderfells, they’re deliberately staying away from us,” Fela said, “there is no way they don’t know where to find us, even a blind and deaf man could manage to ask someone to take him to the royal palace and ask for the King and Queen. And if they had tried but were refused somewhere before the message got to us, we would have known about it.”  
“Agreed,” he said with a nod.   
“What they appear to be doing, is gathering information about us, though they seem to single me out. If they wanted information, the easiest way to get it would be to talk to us, it makes no sense to go about it the way they are. But if they are doing this deliberately, there must be a reason for it,” Fela continued, “and the only one I can think of, is that they are aware that speaking to me directly would lead to me getting more out of them than they are getting out of me.”  
“Well… they could have gotten something from the stories that Wynne and Leliana spun during the Blight,” Alistair said slowly, “though you’d expect them to consider it just that, stories. And the Anderfells are pretty far away from here, a story would have to suffer many retellings before it got there.”  
“So if the stories are unlikely, where did they get it from?” Fela concluded, “what do they know, and how did they find out.”  
“They could have stumbled across the information on their way here…” Alistair said slowly, “but what reason would they have to believe every detail of some tavern tale?”  
“Unless they already knew something.”

“This… should sound farfetched,” Alistair said, “but it’s the only thing that makes sense. They are staying away from you because they fear revealing something about themselves. What other reason could they have? You haven’t harmed anyone who came asking questions, you scowled at them a lot, sure. But why deliberately avoid contacting you, or us?”  
“The only reason I would do something like this, is if I knew my subject of interest was either dangerous, or more powerful than me,” Fela said, “they hide because they think it’s the best way to avoid something. Probably something like me locking onto them.”  
“But they couldn’t have anticipated your mastery of the Taint,” Alistair said, “only you, me, and Asher know you can do things with it that you shouldn’t. Avernus might be aware there is something unusual going on with you, but he’d never risk losing a safe place to conduct his research by endangering you. Assuming they even know he exists.”  
“Avernus has no interest in the outside world, and he knows what kind of trouble it could bring if he makes himself known,” Fela replied, “he wanted to stay at that tower badly enough that he risked our judgement of him. He’d rather die than give it up.”

“Wait, the first set of Wardens, the Orlesians,” Alistair said.  
“Coutreaux and Le Goff,” Fela said helpfully.   
“We assumed they were from Orlais, not the Anderfells, because of their nationalities. But when we spoke to them, they might have picked something up,” Alistair said, “you flared when he asked you why you didn’t die.”  
“Hmm, timewise it should be possible,” Fela said, “and the Orlesians never said they came from Adamant Fortress, we just assumed they came from Orlais because of the names and the accents.”  
“Which they probably anticipated,” Alistair said, “you show people what they want to see right? The names and the accents suggested it, our minds did the rest. And since Riordan came from Orlais it made the most sense.”  
“It fits with what I suspected, that they were send by the same person,” Fela mused.

“There is one other possibility though,” Fela she said after a brief moment of contemplation.  
“Which is?”  
“They’re the same men.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure which is better,” Alistair said, “believing we have two separate sets of Wardens a little too interested in us, or that they were always the same men and they are just _that_ tenacious.”  
“Neither am I,” she said, “we’ll know once we see them.”  
“We?” Alistair asked.   
“Well I assumed you wanted to watch over me while I spy on our newest set of admirers,” Fela said playfully.  
“I expected you to tell me to let you do your thing actually,” he replied.   
“Well, this time you’re invited,” Fela said cheerfully, “I’m going to need you if it goes tits up.”  
“That’s not exactly reassuring,” he replied with a frown.   
“It’s the point you would have made,” she said flatly.  
“True,” he admitted, “I was just expecting more resistance.”  
“I want you there,” she said, “this concerns you too.”  
“Good,” he replied and kissed the top of her head, “hey, are you hungry yet?”  
“What kind of question is that?” Fela chuckled.  
“Right, so, early dinner?” Alistair quipped.  
“Sounds lovely.”


	87. Chapter 87

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela helps Rory prepare for what should be an interesting talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very talky chapter. It had to be done.

Two days.

It took two days for the next recruit to be contacted and inform Fela of the news. It was sooner than she had expected. Personally, she would have wanted to allow some time for Nate’s experience to lose its shine among the other recruits. Whether they were in a hurry, Fela didn’t know, but surely they weren’t stupid. Maybe they hadn’t counted on Nate immediately informing Fela of the event. She had not expected him to either.

As it was, it was Rory who was contacted next. He was nervous, it was easy to tell while he was sitting across from Fela in his personal quarters. He might have been more comfortable in her office, but this way there was less of a chance of anybody getting wind of what was going on. If Rory had to go to the palace and into her quarters, there would be dozens of people who would see him. He would be out of place in the palace, Fela however, was not out of place in the compound. And there were fewer people there who might pick something up. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her staff, she was just being careful.

“So, I’m actually very new at this,” Rory began hesitantly.  
“That’s alright, your nervousness is to be expected,” Fela said, “you can use it to show them what they expect to see.”  
“Why would they expect me to be nervous?” Rory asked.   
“They might not expect it specifically, but once they notice it, they won’t think twice about it, they know they are putting you in an awkward position,” she explained, “plus, they’ll just assume Nate told you something.”  
“Oh… alright…” Rory said unconvincingly.

“You are going to let them steer the conversation,” Fela said, “don’t worry too much about how you’re coming off, just hang back and try to let them do the talking.”  
“And then what?” Rory said uncertainly, “do I answer their questions? Do I lie?”  
“No, don’t lie, there is no point to it,” Fela replied with a shake of her head, “but try avoiding answering any questions anyway, it’ll irritate them and that might cause them to slip up. When they ask something like ‘how does the Commander run things?’ you simply switch to a related topic without answering the question, ‘the Commander makes use of the available space,’ something like that. Just don’t suddenly start talking about the weather, it’s too obvious a diversion and that will lead them to immediately conclude you don’t wish to answer.”

“Is that something I need to avoid?” he asked with a frown, apparently thinking about how tricky that was if you were _actually_ trying to avoid answering a question.  
“No, if that’s what they conclude, so be it. The point of answering with something only semi-related to the question they ask, is that you’ll confuse and frustrate them, which will lead to them trying harder by asking more _specific_ questions. The harder they try, the more I can get from that conversation,” Fela replied.   
“So I need to bait them,” Rory said slowly.   
“Don’t think too much about it and just go with the flow, when an opportunity arises, you take it. But you don’t have to work to create them,” Fela said, “not everybody has my guile, I don’t expect you to do what I would do. Just do what _you_ would do.”  
“Act natural,” he said with a nod.   
“Precisely, now, to keep them going, you can ask things like ‘could you be more specific’ or ‘what do you mean precisely’ or ‘could you explain this or that first,’” she instructed, “you want to understand what they are asking, so ask them to clarify. Once you feel the question is clarified enough, you give some half related answer.”  
“And what if they press the issue?”  
“Then you give them a related answer, but you make them work for it. That’s all I need you to do, make them _work_ for it,” Fela explained, “the harder they work, the more information I get.”

“But… what if they ask me something I _really_ don’t want to answer?” Rory asked.  
“Like what?” Fela asked.   
“I don’t know… maybe something about the other recruits?” he opted, “or you personally?”  
“If they ask anything about me personally, you can just answer honestly, I don’t want you on their shitlist. But try to avoid it if you can. As for the other recruits, you can tell them you are uncertain how to answer their question because they are asking the wrong person,” Fela replied, “and if they keep pushing, just tell them to hit a tavern and talk to the innkeep for gossip. Like the Gnawed Noble. Act affronted, you consider it terribly rude to ask after what you consider gossip about colleagues, don’t you? Use that.”  
“Ok, I can do that…” Rory said slowly, “why the innkeep at the Gnawed Noble though?”   
_Sharp,_ Fela thought.

“Because I want to make sure they keep chasing their own tails, and that innkeep owes me a quite a bit,” Fela said, “he’s a good man, but he is also known to have questionable contacts, informants included.”  
“So should I tempt them to go there?” he asked.   
“No, not directly, all you need to do is suggest he is seedy enough to know something interesting,” Fela replied.   
“Like what?” Rory asked with a frown like a petulant puppy, “about what happened with the Archdemon?”  
“Perhaps, but feel free to let them draw their own conclusions, they will anyway,” Fela replied with a shrug.  
“No, I mean, _does_ that innkeep know something about you?” he asked.   
“No more than the proprietor at the Pearl,” she replied, “don’t worry, you won’t incriminate me in anything.”

“You know the proprietor of the Pearl?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“You’ve heard of ser Kylon?” Fela asked and Rory nodded.   
“He was stationed as a sergeant at the Market Square during the Blight, I helped him out with a few jobs,” Fela explained, “I kicked the White Falcons out of the Pearl for him, and I killed one of Howe’s commanding officers who was looking for Grey Warden supporters to arrest and torture. He’d set up shop at the Pearl.” And she also met Isabella and then Alistair and she slept with her. But Rory didn’t need to know that.  
“Oh, that makes sense,” he replied, “you did promote him after ascending to the throne.”  
“I promoted him because he is a very capable man,” Fela pointed out, “and he defended the Market Square during the battle of Denerim up until Alistair and I got there.”  
“Oh I didn’t mean to imply-” Rory began but Fela cut him off.  
“That right there, when you are speaking to those Wardens, you cannot worry about offending me,” Fela said, “you can even call me a horrible two-faced harpy if that suits you during that conversation. But if you show that you are aware that I am listening, you could tip them off. So maybe say something snide about being too hard on you during drills, it’ll set them at ease.”  
“Okay…” Rory said, dragging out the first syllable.  
“Rory, you have permission to insult me,” Fela said to clarify, “so you are allowed to imply I promoted ser Kylon because he is loyal to me, because that is indeed a large part of the reason. You are not going to make those Wardens think well of me, that’s not what you are there for, so don’t worry about their opinion of me, they’ll form it on their own anyway. If criticising me gets them talking, that’s what you do, alright?”  
“Understood,” he said a little more certainly and gave a curt nod.

“Now, they are bound to ask if you have noticed something odd,” Fela said, “when they do, you mention the two missing boys. And you are also going to mention that I am actively looking for them.”  
“I am?” Rory asked in surprise.  
“Yes, they probably already know anyway,” Fela said, “I want to see how they’ll react.”  
“And if they ask what you are doing precisely?” he asked.   
“Then you tell them I’ve ordered Stroud to talk to anybody that knew those boys and make an overview of their contacts,” Fela said, “I want them to sweat.”  
“Are you asking me to press them?” Rory asked with his eyebrows raised even higher than before.  
“No, you aren’t supposed to know I suspect they had something to do with it,” Fela said, “you’ll just be answering a question, but try to dodge it first. Like I said, make them work for it. If you dance around everything and suddenly give them a straight answer, they’ll be suspicious.”  
“Yeah, ok…” he said hesitantly, “I wish I could write this down.”  
“And arrive with a neat little notepad?” Fela asked with a smile.

“Don’t worry too much about it, if you can’t get any information out of them that’s fine too,” she reassured him, “it’s not the end of the world if you don’t immediately get all the answers, there will be more opportunities. Just stay calm, act natural, and be yourself. Any information you shake loose is just an extra, all you are doing, is keeping them talking. If not to you, then to one of the other recruits. And then I’ll still have plenty of ways to get information. This isn’t a do or die kind of thing, alright?”  
“Alright…”  
“Why don’t you take a moment to think about it, have a walk or something, to let it sink in. We’ll go over all of this again after,” Fela suggested. Rory nodded.   
“You’re not going to quiz me, are you?” he asked.   
“I am,” Fela said with an impish grin, “I need to make sure you remember it all.”  
“I never did do well at quizzes…”  
“You’ll do fine,” Fela said and stood, slightly stiffly, “I’ll be in the common room.”

* * *

The common room was absolutely stuffed with books, scrolls, papers, and even what looked like a clay tablet.

Juno sat amongst the chaos, taking notes and sifting through the papers laid about around her. She didn’t look up when Fela entered, so absorbed in what she was doing that she didn’t hear Fela’s footsteps. Though, to be fair, she had always been light footed. It was odd, to walk in on someone who didn’t immediately perk up. Most people she surrounded herself with had developed a kind of alertness, bordering on paranoia, that is crucial to survival in a war. Even in her own home, she still kept track of who was where and why. Just like she had done at camp.

When Asher trudged in and stepped on Juno’s work though, she snapped out of her focus.

“Oi!” she snapped, “I’m using that!”  
“Oh, he knows, but where should he put his feet? You’ve covered the ground,” Fela said lightly and made her careful way to a chair where she plopped down with a sigh.  
“Commander, I didn’t hear you come in,” Juno said apologetically. Fela waved the apology away.  
“I’m still stealthy, and I walked in on you,” Fela said easily, “what are you doing?”  
“Research,” Juno said, “I thought maybe if I could come up with an explanation why you survived killing the Archdemon, it would ease tensions with the other Chapters a bit.” Fela gave her a warm smile.  
“I like your initiative,” she said, “what have you found?”

“Well… I’m still figuring out which information is reliable and which isn’t, and there is a bunch of text here that still needs to be translated,” Juno began with a frown, “but so far, by all accounts you should be dead.”  
“Yeah, I came to the same conclusion,” Fela sighed and folded her hands behind her head.  
“You’ve done it too?” Juno asked.  
“Yes, but don’t let my conclusions influence you,” Fela said, “do your own research, independently, I’d like to know what you find once you conclude it,” she turned her gaze to Juno and flashed an impish smile, “I’d love to compare notes.” Juno chuckled at that.

“I didn’t know you are an academic,” she said.  
“Well, not really,” Fela replied, “Alistair would be the better academic I think. But we did the best we could with the materials we found at the palace, I’ll have those documents send over. I assume you want any information you can get your hands on, Maker knows there is so little of it.” Juno agreed heartily.  
“That would be a great help. All of this looks like a lot, but there is a lot of unreliable sources in there. I can barely use one twentieth of the information,” she said as she gestured around, “plus nearly half of it being in Anders, Tevene, Orlesian, even some Antivan. It’s going to take forever to translate that…”  
“I can actually help with that,” Fela said, “I’ve translated a lot of text while Alistair and I were researching.”  
“Oh, that would be _great!_ ” Juno said enthusiastically, ”you could save me so much time… which languages do you speak?”  
“All of them.”

Juno stared at Fela for a moment.

“ _All of them?_ ” she asked incredulously.  
“Anders, Tevene, Orlesian, and Antivan,” Fela clarified, “I also have a little Elvish but I don’t think we have any Elvhen sources here.”  
“ _Holy_ _shit,_ ” Juno said with wide eyes. She caught herself though.   
“Sorry, I mean, it’s very rare to meet someone who speaks that many languages,” Juno said a little awkwardly, “just… _How?_ ”  
“I like languages,” Fela shrugged, “I had a good tutor and my family encouraged learning as much of foreign languages as I could. My father was the main ambassador for most foreign contacts, Loghain was a bit too much of a… let’s call it a 'patriot.' Anyway, the Couslands were King Cailan’s representatives outside of Ferelden. Speaking different languages was just naturally a part of that, I got a lot of practice.”  
“That makes sense,” Juno nodded.

“I’ll have my own translations send along with the books and scrolls from the palace,” Fela said, “in the meantime I can get started on some of what you have here. Being pregnant apparently means I’m not allowed to do anything unless it involves sitting, it would be a welcome distraction.” Juno chuckled at that.  
“I’ll gladly provide you with distraction,” Juno replied, “how have you been feeling?”  
“I feel fine, my back aches most of the time, I pee a lot, and I’m tired more often than not, but other than that, can’t complain,” Fela answered easily.  
“Glad to hear it,” Juno said with a nod.

“How is life as a Grey Warden suiting you?” Fela asked.

Juno had no memory of her life before she was taken to the Circle Tower, her magic had manifested at an extremely early age. She was actually one of several Amell children, all were send to different Circles however so she didn’t really know of any of them. All she remembered, was the Circle Tower at Kinloch Hold, she had been there for as long as she could remember. It had shaped her entire life. And now she was free of it, she was a Grey Warden.

“Honestly? Everything is better than that shithole they call a Circle Tower,” Juno said bitterly, “but, instead I have my own quarters, freedom to go where I please, and no more Templars watching my every move. It’s suiting me pretty fucking great.”  
“I’m glad,” Fela said, “you’ve been getting on with the other recruits as well?”

Juno send a silent prayer to the Maker to ask him not to let Fela see the slight blush that crept up her neck. She had been getting along fine with the other Junior Wardens, but there was one in particular she _really_ got along with. One she had a drink with at a tavern not too long ago. Unfortunately, the Maker was either busy, absent, or smart enough not to mess with Fela. Who saw the blush just fine.

“They’re great,” Juno said, trying to sound casual, “better than the colleagues I had at the Tower, that’s for sure.”  
“What do you mean?” Fela asked.   
“At the Tower, you either defended yourself or you were preyed upon,” Juno explained, “nobody was going to stand up for you out of fear that you might drag them down with you. It’s not like that here. It’s not just that there aren’t any Templars, and that I don’t have to worry about being accused of blood magic. These guys stick up for each other, for Daena, for Nate. For you. They’re good people you’ve got here.”  
“I agree,” Fela nodded and gestured at Juno’s notes, “walk me through it.”

Juno explained how she had started by organising and cataloguing the information she currently had. Then she had started reviewing each source’s reliability, at least, the ones she could read. Daena knew some Orlesian, and so did Nate, but it was hardly enough to translate the texts they were presented with. Juno had been working on translating them herself as best she could, but it wasn’t like she had a dictionary. So, to her own frustration, she hadn’t gotten very far.

Fela asked her for pen and paper and promptly started translating after Juno handed them to her. She would be waiting for Rory anyway, so she might as well do something useful. And having Juno doing her own research was only likely to benefit her, so Fela was glad to help.

Asher helped too. By lazing about on an unoccupied sofa. Well, unoccupied save for the documents Juno had spread out on it, which he was on top of. They were mostly in a foreign language so it was ok, Juno wouldn’t need them and Fela already had a text to translate. Though he did cast some intelligent looks towards the humans to encourage them.

Asher was clever enough to understand every single word that was said, but reading long texts wasn’t really among his strong suits. Short sentences, maybe, but not entire documents, let alone books. People didn’t generally bother to teach their dogs how to read, because how would you even do that? He couldn’t sound out the letters to form words, and the, _presumed_ , inability to speak back made it difficult to learn something that required a high level of communication like reading. Whatever he picked up, he picked up on his own. Consequently he wasn’t a very good reader, and paws weren’t made for writing anyway. So, he settled for sighing a lot and giving the occasional encouraging look.

Asher liked to help any way he could.

* * *

Rory sat at a secluded table in the back of the Broken Sword Inn.

It was close to the compound, right next to it in fact, and frequently visited by the recruits. It made sense to meet there from Rory’s point of view. It was familiar, public, close, precisely what you would expect from him. At the same time, it allowed Fela and Alistair to spy on him. It hadn’t been as straightforward as Fela had made it sound when she came up with this plan with Alistair. She didn’t want anybody but Rory to know they were there and she had to sneak her own people in too, just in case something went wrong. Rory had been instructed that in the unlikely event of violence, he was to return to the compound and let Fela’s people sort it out. It wouldn’t do to have her Wardens getting into a fight with someone else’s Wardens. That was precisely the kind of thing she wanted to prevent, hence the precaution of sneaking her own people in.

Getting her people in had been the easy part, stick them in some civilian clothes and have them arrive separately. The tricky part, was the King and Queen entering that particular tavern unnoticed _and_ finding a proper place to spy from. Luckily, Dan had a friend working there who could be trusted to not ask too many questions. Or any questions at all. So when Dan asked his friend to let two hooded figures in via a side door, he didn’t even blink.

Rory sat with his back to a wall. Specifically, the wall that separated a storage room from the common room he sat in. It looked like just a normal wooden wall, and mostly it was, but there was a narrow gap in between two boards. Through it, Fela had a good view of the common room, and the wall was thin enough that it didn’t block much sound. Sitting across from Rory, the Anders Wardens would never be able to tell someone was watching. Not with the common room lit and the storage room dark.

The storage room mostly contained barrels of ale and wine. At the moment however, it also contained a pregnant woman and her husband. Asher was inside the common room, close to the hearth, pretending to be just another dog while in fact he was listening very keenly. If, for whatever reason, one of the Anders Wardens made towards the storage room, he was to stop him from doing that. Preferably with a distraction, but Fela had given him permission to bite if it was necessary. 

Fela sat on a wine barrel, leaning against the thin wooden wall so she could peer through the crack. Alistair stood across from her, arms crossed and leaning back against another wall. He was tense. Even in the dark, she could clearly see it in his posture. Alistair didn’t like spying, he preferred direct confrontations. But, that wasn’t an option in this scenario and now he found himself worrying that they might get caught. If someone walked in to get another barrel, what were they supposed to say? The wall Fela was spying through was thin, any explanation they gave would be audible to people on the other side. Or, even worse, what if the person who walked in on them started screaming? The Anders Wardens were likely to come running if that happened. And why wouldn’t you scream if you were just working and suddenly you find two hooded figures in a place they shouldn’t be?

While Alistair was fretting quietly, Fela was calm. Patiently waiting for her Anders colleagues to arrive. She felt at home in the dark, observing the room on the other side of the wall. Alistair may have said she didn’t belong in the shadows once, but she certainly felt comfortable in them.

Rory tried his best to look relaxed, but he was having a hard time of it. Somehow he felt like everyone in the room could clearly see what he was up to. As if a little voice was whispering in his ear that he was obvious and fooling no one. Of course, that little voice completely ignored the fact that any other guests were occupied with their own drinks and company, and that they paid little attention to the man sitting alone in the back of the room. But Rory hadn’t drawn that conclusion yet. Neither did he look forward to actually meeting the men he had invited there. Nevertheless, he was determined to figure out what they wanted. The Commander might not consider the spying Wardens his problem, but Rory himself certainly did. So, he suppressed his nerves as best he could, and soothed them with ale. An old and common method, especially among men. Effective too, though he took care not to drink too much, he’d need his wits.

After a few minutes, that felt like a few hours, Rory was approached by two men dressed in modest clothes.   
“Are you Roland Mac Loughlin?” one of them asked.   
“Yes,” Rory said, trying his best to maintain a light tone of voice, “are you Eduard Lichteskind and Simon Lange?” Both men bowed.  
“Indeed we are,” one of them replied, “we hail from the Anderfells, where we are known as minstrels. May I sit?”  
“Please,” Rory replied with a welcoming gesture. The Commander had said it was important to maintain an air of friendliness.  
“Thank you kindly,” the man replied and sat down, “as you have already deduced, I am Eduard Lichteskind, and this is my colleague, Simon Lange.”  
“A pleasure to meet you sir,” Simon said with a warm smile. It made Rory feel dirty.  
“Likewise,” he replied, “how may I be of service to you gentlemen?”

“We have been collecting stories of people who lived through the Blight,” Eduard replied, “and as we understand it, you have a good one about the Battle of Denerim.”  
“Well, depends on the kind of story you’re looking for,” Rory answered, “mostly it was just a lot of darkspawn running around, creating havoc. There are tons of stories like that though, so I’m guessing you are talking about the part where I stopped an ogre from stomping Arl Eamon Guerin to death.”  
“Indeed, as we understand it, you cleaved the creature through its… testicle sack.”  
“Yeah, it uh… it was a spur of the moment kind of thing,” Rory said with a slightly embarrassed smile, “I had just come out of a swing and when I turned I saw the ogre standing over the Arl. I only had a split second to react so I continued the motion, and… up it went… is it just me or is it kind of painful to imagine it?” Eduard and Simon laughed.  
“Why yes,” Simon said with a snicker, “ogre or no, it’s a bit of a thigh-clencher, isn’t it?”   
“Which is why it’s a great story!” Eduard said jovially, “should get a lot of laughs.”  
“Want to know the best part?” Rory grinned.  
“What?”  
“Grey Warden Commander Theirin thought it was so funny she recruited me for it,” Rory replied, joining the laughter.

In the storage room, Fela gave Alistair a mild shrug.

“That certainly works well as a kicker,” Eduard snickered, “man cuts ogre in half through his nut sack, saves nobleman, gets recruited into the Grey Wardens. How has that worked out for you?”  
“Pretty great, actually,” Rory replied, “I am receiving expert training, get to work alongside extremely talented people, and I get to put my talent for violence to good use on darkspawn.”  
“You’ve been send out to hunt them?” Simon asked.  
“Of course,” Rory replied, “it’s part of the job. We’ve swept the area around Denerim mostly clean, and we’re getting ready to man Vigil’s Keep soon.”   
“It hasn’t been manned yet?” Eduard asked. Rory shook his head.   
“The Order still needs to do a lot of rebuilding,” he explained, “we have three seniors Wardens from Orlais and the Commander, but besides them there is only five of us junior Wardens now, bringing the total to nine. Ten if you count the King.”  
“That’s… not a high number,” Eduard said with a frown.  
“Well, it’s not for lack of trying,” Rory said with a shrug, “as I understand it the Commander has been working quite hard to get reinforcements from across the border, but… for some reason they won’t send them.”  
“Any idea why?” Simon asked.  
“None,” Rory said with a shrug, “the Commander has had Vigil’s Keep ready for months but with so few of us we can hardly man it. And the Commander can’t leave Denerim right now.”  
“Because she is also the current Queen, correct?” Eduard said, “why doesn’t she use soldiers to make up for the difference?”  
“The Vigil already has soldiers,” Rory replied, “it needs Grey Wardens and she can’t just recruit a couple of hundred men if we don’t have the capacity to train and lead them.”  
“Why? What’s so special about that training?” Simon asked.

“Well,” Rory began, “it’s not just about skill and strength, it about working as a team and playing into your own strengths _and_ those of your companions. Which means you have to know precisely what your companions can or can’t do. But also about making the right choices, being a Grey Warden isn’t just about exterminating darkspawn. We aren’t mercenaries for hire that let people come to us. We’re supposed to be guardians, protecting mankind, and doing what we must to preserve it. The darkspawn don’t let up, not even after the Blight has been stopped, and neither can we.”  
“But, couldn’t you also do that at Vigil’s Keep?” Simon asked.   
“With our current numbers, going there won’t make a difference. It’s not like the Commander is leaving Amaranthine to fend for itself, she put a local government in place and they are containing the threat. Besides, she is seven or eight months pregnant.”  
“So we’ve heard,” Simon said with a nod, “what’s that like?”  
“What do you mean?” Rory asked with a raised eyebrow. This was one of the topics where he needed to be on his toes.

“What’s it like? Working under a pregnant Commander? Does it affect her leadership?” Eduard clarified.  
“She doesn’t participate in sparring anymore,” Rory said with a shrug, “but I don’t think any of us would want to spar with a pregnant woman anyway, that’s just unsafe.”  
“Hard to argue with that,” Simon said with a nod, “but is that really all?”  
“Not much has changed,” Rory replied, “she still does what she does, only with a round belly.”  
“No moodiness?” Eduard asked.  
“Probably, but not where I could see it, she’s pretty open about it.”  
“What do you mean?” Eduard pressed.   
“Oh, little things, you know,” Rory said easily, “like when she walks into the common room, sits down, and puts her feet up on the table, saying something like ‘sorry guys, my feet just kinda hurt, feel free to put your own feet up too.’ Casual stuff. One time, she treated us all to some kind of molten cheese dish, because she had a craving for it.”  
“How… informal,” Simon mused, “I wouldn’t expect that from a woman who is also Queen.”  
“Yeah, people often seem to imagine some broody, stiff, noble figure,” Rory replied, “but she’s actually pretty easy going.”

“Tell us more about that,” Simon encouraged.  
“About the Commander being easy going?” Rory asked to clarify, receiving nods in return.  
“Well, it’s like I said, she’s in charge, and we all know she’s in charge, but she doesn’t lord it over us you know?” Rory said with some vague gestures, “she always has an ear for any of us, good sense of humour too.”  
“What do you mean, do you and your colleagues regularly call on her for personal issues?” Eduard pressed.   
“Not really, we are well taken care of,” Rory replied, “I meant that she listens to our input and takes time to answer our questions if we have them.”  
“Such as?” Simon said expectantly.  
“Like when she is giving us instructions for a certain task,” Rory shrugged, “or when we have questions about darkspawn and the Blight.”

“Could you give an example?” Eduard said with an encouraging smile.  
“Oh sure,” Rory said, trying to sound casual while feeling absolutely cornered, “let’s see, I was in the Battle of Denerim, at the Eastern Gate. My regiment was ordered to drive the darkspawn back there, so I didn’t get anywhere close to the battle with the Archdemon. Anyway, at some point, after we had been fighting and holding them off for what felt like an eternity, the darkspawn suddenly scattered and retreated. I asked the Commander what could have been the reason for that, and she explained that without the Archdemon, they had no central leadership. And then she explained how the Archdemon commands it’s armies through the Taint and that the only reason the darkspawn were organised was because the Archdemon told them what to do. And some things about darkspawn in general, you know like how they don’t work together or care about each other’s well-being. They are just as likely to kill each other as their enemies without something telling them what to do.”

“What about her battle with the Archdemon?” Eduard asked, “you must have been curious?”  
“Of course,” Rory replied, “but she and the King weren’t exactly alone atop Fort Drakon, the Dalish elves, the Circle of Magi, Redcliffe’s Knights, and the Dwarves of Orzammar assisted in that fight. She didn’t take it down alone. The battle atop Fort Drakon was a whole separate battle by itself, with armies and everything. Not just the Archdemon, but the darkspawn it summoned too.”  
“What about how she killed it?” Simon asked, “it’s difficult to imagine a person slaying such a beast.”  
“She had a strategy actually,” Rory said, “the Archdemon was huge and dangerous on all sides, so before getting in close, they went at it with ballistae, arrows, magic, anything that could be used to attack from a distance. Once it was weakened, they worked on incapacitating it, shredding the wings, immobilising the legs, that way the troops could get in closer too. The Archdemon was mowing through them like a field of daisies in the beginning of the battle. The battle was as much about preventing their own forces from being overwhelmed as it was about killing the Archdemon. The darkspawn had at least three times our numbers on the whole.”

“It almost sounds like she had experience with this sort of thing,” Simon mused.   
“In a way, it wasn’t the first battle she fought where they were terribly outnumbered and had a humongous monster to kill,” Rory replied with a nod.  
“I was referring to the stories of Flemeth the Shapeshifter,” Simon replied, “didn’t she turn into a high dragon?”  
“She did,” Rory nodded, “they might not have been outnumbered in that particular fight but they certainly had a big scary monster to kill.”  
“Did she ever tell you about that?” Eduard asked, “ _why_ she ended up killing Flemeth, who was supposedly the one who saved her and the King during the Battle of Ostagar?”  
“I’m not sure,” Rory replied, “I think it had something to do with the return to Ostagar…”  
“Return to Ostagar?” Eduard asked curiously.   
“Yes, they went back some time during the Blight, to retrieve evidence they needed to dethrone General Loghain,” Rory answered, “they were letters I think, correspondences between King Cailan and Empress Celene about bringing in Orlesian troops.”  
“What would Flemeth have to do with any of that?” Simon asked with a frown.  
“I have no idea,” Rory said with a shrug, “I’ve never really thought about it.”

Simon and Eduard shared a look but they left the issue alone after that.

“On the whole,” Eduard began, “would you say you are glad you joined the Order?”  
“Yes, of course,” Rory said with a smile.  
“So cleaving that ogre up its nut sack was worth it, huh?” Simon grinned.  
“It wasn’t something I deliberately planned, but yes,” Rory chuckled, “I think we can do a lot of good, even if we are still in the middle of rebuilding.”   
“These are strange times indeed,” Eduard nodded, “most people actually thought the darkspawn had been defeated after the Fourth Blight, nobody believed they would come back up to the surface after that. Many even believed they were gone entirely.”  
“Yeah,” Rory replied and stretched, “but there really is no telling what goes on inside the mind of the average hurlock or genlock. To speculate as to why they do what they do would be an exercise in futility.”  
“Still, you’d expect them to be looking for ways back to the Deep Roads,” Simon mused.   
“Don’t overestimate darkspawn intelligence,” Rory said, “they are vicious and dangerous but actually pretty dumb, and finding an entrance to the Deep Roads isn’t as simple as it sounds.”  
“True, if it was, we would know about it,” Simon assented, “makes for good stories,” he added.

Inside the store room, Fela was listening intently. Through the crack in the wall she had a good view of Simon and Eduard’s faces and postures. She didn’t like what she saw.

Eduard clearly had the lead, he was the more directive of the two. Whereas Simon was free to observe and occasionally poke and prod. Rory was playing his part well, he made it look like he was giving lots of information but the truth was that he wasn’t. Of course, Rory wasn’t supposed to know he was talking to two Grey Wardens instead of two minstrels. So anything he shared about darkspawn wasn’t new information to them, but as far as Eduard and Simon knew, Rory didn’t know that. Meaning that he was quite forthcoming in their eyes.

Making eye contact wasn’t an option, so she felt a little restricted in how much she was able to tell from their behaviour. But there was something. Something that scratched at the back of her mind, almost frantically. Something was wrong, _very_ wrong. She had the distinct feeling that the men she could see weren’t the only ones present. But when she reached out through the Taint, she didn’t sense anybody else. Nobody who carried the Taint anyway. She looked closer, focussing on Eduard.

His bulky physique suggested he’d been well off before he joined the Grey Wardens. Broad, tall, and while the clothes he wore were modest, they were well-tailored. His hair was well groomed, his face clean shaven, and his fingernails were clean. Not somebody who got his hands dirty then. If he had been a soldier, he would have carried himself differently. He slouched in his chair, leaning on his elbows and smiled a lot. Not a soldier, but not a man of the streets either. He wouldn’t have been accepted into the Grey Wardens if he had no fighting skills. That meant he was probably nobility. Assuming he had a reasonably clean slate, he was probably the youngest of a string of children, not much left to inherit for him then. Either that, or he committed some kind of crime that caused his family to cast him out. She looked at his hands again, no signet ring or any kind of sigil on him. Noble boy gone bad then. 

She looked at Simon next. He was of a more narrow build, but as tall as Eduard was in his sitting position. The legs might account for some unnoticed height difference but it wouldn’t be much. He was more wire-y than his colleague, but he didn’t look like he had suffered any kind of malnutrition either. He was lean, Fela guessed he must be a rogue. His clothes were slightly ill-fitting. Like regular clothes often are for men who don’t have the average build. They had not been tailored for him specifically like Eduard’s had. But they looked fine enough to be new. A commoner, but not a particularly poor one.

_Now, for the more important bits._

Both men were taking care not to sound too sceptic about Fela and Alistair’s success, but it was there beneath the surface. They had doubts on how they managed to kill an Archdemon and lived through the ordeal. That was nothing new however, almost every Grey Warden they ever met had their doubts, questions, and reservations. There was a kind of urgency to the questions about Flemeth however, and about the pregnancy too. At the same time, the things Rory shared about darkspawn and the Archdemon commanding them were taken in a little too easily. No follow-up questions, no disbelief, no shock. They were Grey Wardens though, only posing as minstrels, so it was to be expected.

The conversation went on while she observed and tried to get an idea of what type of people they were dealing with.

“If I may,” Eduard said, “there is something that strikes me as odd.”  
“Yeah? What’s that?” Rory replied.   
“Grey Wardens,” Eduard said, “I thought they weren’t supposed to be able to have children.”  
“Oh? What makes you think that?” Rory asked innocently.  
“As far as we’re aware,” Eduard replied, “Grey Wardens aren’t known to have children after they join. Isn’t that correct?”  
“Well, just because they don’t doesn’t mean they _can’t,_ ” Rory said thoughtfully, “and honestly, children don’t fit into this lifestyle, so I don’t think many have tried. Why, have you met many Grey Wardens?”  
“If children don’t fit into the lifestyle, how come your Commander is pregnant?” Simon asked.   
“Because she’s the Queen of Ferelden,” Rory said with an arched eyebrow, “that’s just how monarchies work.”  
“I think you misunderstand,” Eduard said, “Grey Wardens are assumed to be infertile, your Queen should be barren.”  
“Well, clearly she isn’t,” Rory shrugged.  
“You never wondered how she got pregnant?” Simon asked, causing Rory to burst out laughing.   
“I’m pretty sure I know _how_ it happened,” Rory snickered, “but I’m not about to ask my Commander and Queen about her sex life. She’s pretty easy going and all that, but there are boundaries.”  
“Naturally,” Eduard replied with a chuckle, “can we assume you believe there is nothing out of the ordinary?”  
“Yes,” Rory said with a curious look, “why would there be?”  
“It’s just that, one would assume the child to carry the Taint,” Eduard said, “that’s what makes you a Grey Warden, isn’t it?”  
“Correct,” Rory said with a nod.  
“So? Is there anything to indicate the child is abnormal?” Simon asked, a little sharply. Rory missed it, but Fela didn’t. She felt heat rush to her face as a wave of fury crashed through her.

“None,” Rory said with a shrug, “it kicks, the Commander looks healthy, and nobody is assuming there is anything wrong with that child. Why are you asking me this?”  
“Curiosity,” Eduard said glibly, “there might be another story there in one or two months. A Grey Warden child, wouldn’t that be something, especially considering who its mother is.”

Rory remained quiet for a moment, staring at the men in front of him.  
“It almost sounds as if you’re hoping for that,” he said slowly.

 _Sharp, Rory,_ Fela thought, _very sharp._

“Oh we wouldn’t wish any harm upon them,” Eduard said in a calming voice, “but Fela Theirin is an extraordinary woman, one would expect any child she bears to be extraordinary too.”   
“What do you mean?” Rory asked.

This was it, this was what the Commander wanted to know. Rory could have sworn he physically _felt_ her presence from the other room. Of course, he _knew_ that she was listening, but it was more than just knowing. He felt it on some primal level buried deep beneath rational thought, she was there, and she was listening.

“How much do you really _know_ , about your Commander?” Eduard asked in return.  
“You’ll have to elaborate on that question,” Rory replied.  
“Have you ever noticed anything peculiar about her?” Eduard asked, “does she ever do things she shouldn’t have been able too?”

“Aside from unifying a country in the middle of civil war to fight a Blight with an army of unlikely allies and killing an Archdemon?” Rory replied with an arched eyebrow.  
“Aside from that, yes,” Eduard replied slowly.  
“Well, she’s terrifying in a fight,” Rory said thoughtfully, “faster and stronger than you would expect her to be. But all Grey Wardens are like that to some degree.”

“What about the way people respond to her?” he urged, “didn’t one of your current colleagues get arrested for trying to kill her?”  
“He never actually got that far,” Rory said with a shrug, “and they have some complicated history. The Commander did kill his father, after all.”  
“Quite brutally from what we hear,” Simon added.  
“Trust me, he had it coming,” Rory replied, “two other colleagues can attest to that. Nate just didn’t see it before.”  
“See what?” Eduard pressed.   
“That his father was a horrible person,” Rory said, “and that’s putting it mildly.”  
“How could a son not know that about his father?” Simon asked with a frown.  
“Simple, he was in the Free Marches for the last five years or so,” Rory replied, “he wasn’t in the country when Rendon Howe committed most of his atrocities. All he knew was that the Commander killed his father, slowly, but little else.”  
“How do you know?” Simon asked.   
“Because I watched Nate go through the process of finding that out and coming to terms with it,” Rory said simply, “the Commander recruited him to give him a clean slate.”

“You don’t think it’s strange that a man who travelled across the country to kill Commander Theirin is now loyal to her?” Eduard asked and cocked his head.  
“How would you know that?” Rory countered.  
“We met him, of course,” Eduard replied with a waving gesture of his hand.  
“Well, to answer your question, no. I don’t think it’s strange that he is loyal to her now, because he is loyal to the Order,” Rory said, “like I said, he’s come to terms with what happened with the Commander and his father. Nate isn’t like his father, he’s a good guy. The Commander saw it and gave him a second chance.”  
“And you and all your colleagues are willing to do the same. Didn’t one of them get tortured by Rendon Howe personally?” Simon said in a sceptic tone.  
“Yes,” Rory said with a nod, “want to know how she did that?” Both men went still at the table in front of him, watching him expectantly and waiting for him to speak.

“She told us,” Rory said, “she took the time to explain why she recruited him and what she expected of us. All she did, was being transparent. That’s all it took.” He added the last bit with a meaningful look before downing his ale and waving for another.  
“Look, the Commander is a peculiar woman, but she’s really just a person,” Rory said, “I know there are some stories out there about demon’s blood and dragon’s blood and whatnot, but those are just that. Stories. She’s quite human.”

“Well,” Eduard said dryly, “as far as stories go, that’s disappointing.”  
“Is it though?” Rory asked, “I’d say it’s more relatable as far as your audience is concerned. The Hero, Grey Warden Commander, and Queen of Ferelden, is just human. Like them.”  
“It would be more inspirational than awe-inspiring,” Simon shrugged and cast a look at Eduard.  
“Nevertheless, many peculiar things keep happening around your Commander,” Eduard said as he turned back to Rory, “any more titbits you’d like to share?”  
“Of peculiar things happening?” Rory replied and thought about it for a moment. Or pretended to anyway, “there is something, but I’m not sure if that’s the kind of thing you’re looking for…”  
“What is it?” Simon urged.

“The Commander had a log, one she kept during the Blight. It’s been stolen,” Rory said slowly. He could have sworn he felt Fela perk up in the other room, he had gotten to an interesting topic again.   
“A log?” Eduard asked with a frown, “why would anybody want to steal that?”   
“You tell me,” Rory shrugged, “she had a copy made so it would be available to us while she kept the original. It wasn’t something she kept hidden or acted mysterious about. If whoever took it had asked, she probably would have been fine with them reading it.”  
“You really think so?” Simon asked.  
“I do,” Rory nodded, “she kept the log, and had the copy made, so an account of what happened would survive her. It could help other Grey Wardens during the next Blight, which she probably won’t be around for. She _wants_ that information preserved and spread. There shouldn’t have been a need to steal it.”

“Any idea who took it and why?” Eduard continued.   
“I wouldn’t know personally,” Rory answered, “but a runner and a servant have gone missing with the log.”  
“Well, there you go,” Eduard said, “the runner and the servant must have taken it and fled.”  
“They’re kids,” Rory said pointedly, “and they’ve been missing for months now. The servant lost his family during the Blight and worked at the Compound for room and board. The runner has a family that’s insanely worried about him, it seems unlikely to me that two young boys ran away to read a book.”  
“What do _you_ think happened?” Simon asked.   
“I think someone got those kids to get that log for them and then disposed of the loose ends,” Rory answered, “a _stupid_ move too since the log was never a secret. Now the thief is also a murderer, while he needn’t have been a thief in the first place.”

“What makes you so certain those kids are dead?” Simon asked.   
“Children don’t stay away for a few months and then show up again in one piece,” Rory answered, “and both of them had something good going here, they were happy.”  
“Did you know them?” Simon continued.   
“Of course I knew them, I live where they work,” Rory said with a frown, “we have been looking for them from the moment we noticed they were missing.”  
“You didn’t notice right away?” Eduard asked.  
“There is more than one servant and one runner in the Commander’s employ,” Rory replied, “it was quite normal not to see them for a few days.”

“And the efforts to find them hasn’t turned anything up yet?” Simon asked.   
“Not yet,” Rory answered, “the Commander and her second have been making an overview of all their contacts, that way they hope to determine to figure out who they’ve been in contact with and what they were up to before disappearing.”  
“They would go through all that trouble for a couple of kids?” Simon mused with an arched eyebrow.  
“It might just be because they fear their security is lacking,” Eduard said.  
“Just because they were a servant and a runner, doesn’t mean the Commander doesn’t care about their well-being,” Rory said with a chuckle, “she can hardly look after _everybody_ but she considers those boys her responsibility because she is, was, their employer.”  
“Perhaps she is just hoping to find whoever took that log through those kids though,” Eduard countered.

“You don’t know her very well,” Rory said, “and I can see how you would expect that attitude from the average noble. But I think we have already established the Commander is anything but ‘average.’”  
“Anything but average, and yet quite human,” Eduard surmised.  
“Precisely,” Rory said “Nate once said that, no matter what you expect that woman to do, she does something else.”  
“Something else,” Simon repeated, “not the opposite?”  
“Oh no,” Rory chuckled, “that would give her some measure of predictability. It’s just that she has a tendency to do the unexpected, that’s the thing about her. Not that she’s unpredictable, but… I don’t know, I guess she doesn’t see things like you and I do, so she reacts differently to them as well.”  
“Sees the world in a different light than the rest of us, huh?” Simon replied, “for some reason, it always takes a freak.”

Rory fell dead silent for a moment. This time, he didn’t miss the undertone in Simon’s voice. There was something vicious about it, it must have shown on his face because Simon raised his hands defensively.

“What I meant to say,” he began, “is that people who do extraordinary things often have a uniqueness about them. As if they are unhindered by the doubts and fears the rest of us have to deal with.”  
“Well, I imagine that losing everything you ever held dear _does_ change something about how you look at the world,” Rory replied snidely, “same way nothing ever changes if you stay within the bounds of what you know.”  
“My colleague meant no offense,” Eduard said in a calming voice, “it is just that her actions set her apart from others.”  
“Of course, if _everybody_ went on to gather armies and stop Blights, there wouldn’t have been much of a problem in the past couple of years, would there?” Rory replied sharply.  
“I meant that, all heroes are freaks, to some degree,” Simon explained, “we look up to them because they do things we cannot ever imagine ourselves doing, and that makes them… strange, in a way.”  
“The word you’re looking for, is ‘weird,’” Rory said flatly, “that’s the term the Commander uses.”

“Pardon?” Eduard said with raised eyebrows after a brief silence.  
“We’ve been discussing the Commander long enough for me to realise you’re not just here to listen to my tale of castrating an ogre,” Rory replied and folded his hands on the table, “if you wanted to ask me questions about the Commander, you could have just told me.”

Simon and Eduard stared at him for a while, neither of them saying a word. Meanwhile, Fela stared at them, gauging their response. They were trying to decide whether they should deny the accusation and leave, or seize upon the opportunity. The beating around the bush had gone on long enough now, far too long actually, for Fela’s liking. And if Alistair’s quiet fidgeting was any indication, he agreed whole-heartedly.

“Very well,” Eduard said slowly, earning an anxious look from Simon, “we have discussed several things that nobody seems to have an explanation for. And there is one in particular, that seems to contradict everything the Grey Wardens know, about slaying Archdemons.”  
“You want to know how she survived?” Rory replied flatly and received a nod, “you and everyone else in Thedas. She says she has no idea, I’ve asked her.”  
“Do you believe her?” Simon asked.

Rory frowned as he thought about it. The truth was, he did believe her. But if he wanted to keep them talking, wouldn’t it be better to say that he didn’t?

“I’m not sure…” he finally said, “she… she’s not the type to let herself be killed if there is a way around it. If she knew of anything that could have achieved the same goal without dying, I think she would have used it. I mean, wouldn’t you? And truth be told , it’s a good thing she’s still around. I don’t think the country would be healing as fast if she wasn’t. So, I guess I don’t really care if she knows or not, I would even go as far as to say that Ferelden needs her. Alive and well beside the King.”  
“Is there anything you can think of,” Eduard urged, “that might explain why she’s alive and well?”  
“I honestly have no idea,” Rory replied, “I mean… Maybe some kind of magic or something, but I asked Juno. A colleague who came from Ferelden’s Circle of Magi, and she says she has never heard of any magic relating to killing Archdemons. Supposedly, it has something to do with the soul of the Old God that the Archdemon once was. Before darkspawn got to it, infected it with the Taint and drove it mad. The Circle doesn’t teach any magic that could have had any effect on that kind of process, it would have been considered blasphemous.”   
“But,” Simon said slowly, “the Circle Tower is not the only place where you can find magic. Your Commander came into contact with unknown schools of magic on several occasions, did she not?”  
“Well… Yes, often enough that I wouldn’t have any clue where to start,” Rory replied thoughtfully, “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that question.”  
“Would your colleague be able to, the one you spoke about?” Eduard asked.  
“Juno,” Rory replied, “no I don’t think so. What is taught at the Circle Tower is heavily supervised by the Chantry, there wouldn’t have been anything in that tower she wasn’t allowed to know.”  
  


“What about the apostate she travelled with?” Eduard opted, “the one called Morrigan.”  
“Never met her,” Rory said with a shrug, “I don’t know much about her, the Commander doesn’t talk about it much.”  
“Were you aware that the witch known as Morrigan is rumoured to be a daughter of Flemeth the Shapeshifter?” Simon added.   
“Yes,” Rory nodded, “she told us as much.”  
“Does that maybe give you any insight on why your Commander would kill Flemeth the Shapeshifter, if she was her friend’s mother?”  
“Well, it might explain why Morrigan was never seen again after the final battle,” Rory shrugged, “if she killed _my_ mother I’d be pretty pissed too.”  
“But why stick around for a fight like that?” Simon pressed, “wouldn’t you pack your bags and go straight away?”  
“I don’t know, but… If the Commander killed Morrigan’s mother, and Morrigan stuck around after that, I would assume Morrigan wasn’t too broken up about it,” Rory replied.

“It’s more likely than Fela Theirin having some kind of hold on her…” Simon mused and turned to his colleague, “what do you think?”  
“It’s possible… But why would the witch want Flemeth dead?” Eduard replied.  
“That or the witch wanted something else,” Simon replied.  
“Well, we can only guess,” Eduard said with a smile, “do you know of anyone who might have known the witch? Anyone who might have had contact with her?”

Fela smiled in the store room.

“Well…” Rory said slowly, “she was with the Commander throughout the Blight, there are plenty of places where people might have seen her. At the Circle of Magi, Orzammar, Redcliffe…”  
“What about here in Denerim?” Simon replied.  
“That I know of? They stayed at the Arl of Redcliffe’s Estate, and at the Gnawed Noble. But there might be other places,” Rory replied with a shrug, “it’s a big city though.”  
“Big enough to hold a near infinite amount of stories,” Eduard replied with a broad smile.  
“That, is certainly true,” Rory replied, “unfortunately, I must return to the compound. Can’t show up for afternoon drills late, drunk and reeking of ale.”

Eduard stood to shake Rory’s hand.  
“Thank you for your time, Warden Mac Loughlin, you have given us much to write and think about,” he said graciously, “perhaps, one of these days you might walk into a tavern and hear your own story being told.”  
“I am looking forward to it,” Rory replied and gave both men a nod, “gentlemen,” and left.

Eduard and Simon remained at the table, each apparently mulling over what Rory had said.

“What do you think?” Simon asked Eduard after a moment of silence.  
“I think the Warden Commander is carefully wrapping each of her recruits around her finger,” he replied thoughtfully.  
“He sure seems to look up to her,” Simon scoffed, “almost like he thinks of her as a big sister, it’s pathetic.”  
“Watch your mouth, Lange, we’re in a public place,” Eduard said quietly, but harshly.  
“Fine, so what now?” he asked.   
“We go to the Gnawed Noble,” Eduard replied, “see if anyone has anything interesting to say about the witch or any magic the Warden Commander may have uncovered.”  
“And if they don’t?”  
“Then we continue speaking to these idiot recruits and wait for that blighted child to be born,” he replied, “let’s go, this place reeks of wet dog.”

Fela watched as the Anders Wardens stood and left, then turned to Alistair.

“How much did you hear?” she asked.  
“Pretty much all of it,” he replied quietly, “your recruit was difficult to understand at times, but I heard those Wardens just fine.”

She couldn’t make out his face in the dark, but she didn’t need to. She felt the dark look he gave her just fine without light. She also felt a series of vicious kicks, which she interpreted as outrage at being called a ‘blighted child.’

“We should get back to the palace,” Fela said and stood, “I’d rather talk somewhere more comfortable.” She reached for Alistair in the dark and gently stroked his arm. He put an arm around her in response to hug her briefly before they left the store room, and out the back.

* * *

Fela sat in an armless chair in front of the hearth, deep in thought.

Alistair watched her quietly, gently stroking Asher’s head, which was in his lap. While it may have looked cosy, the mood was grim. The interest in both their child and Morrigan was alarming. But if they were to stick to the plan, now was not the time to act. And _that_ was harder than they had anticipated.

The Anders Wardens were… _hostile._ It wasn’t just the questions, it was the shift in attitude once Rory left. It was probably a good thing he had not been there to see it. Because that would find its way back to the other recruits and they would get even more agitated than they already were. As it was, Fela and Alistair were quite agitated enough all by themselves.

First of all, apparently the Anders Wardens were considering waiting until the ‘blighted child’ was born. Second, for whatever reason, they seemed to assume Morrigan held some answers. Which was correct and therefore problematic. Third, their questions had implied they were definitely aware of some of Fela’s more peculiar talents. To top it off, Fela had felt certain there was something wrong about those Wardens. They bore traces of something malevolent and vile, as if its stink was still on them. It made her skin crawl and send a cold sensation down her spine. When she had told Alistair about it he had turned ashen.

“Well, that’s it then, we’re killing them,” Fela finally announced without looking away from the fire.  
“Was there any doubt of that?” Alistair asked darkly.  
“A little, I was kind of hoping it was all just a big misunderstanding,” she replied glibly.  
He let out a humourless chuckle, “wouldn’t that be nice.”

“There is something _very_ wrong about them Alistair,” Fela said quietly, “those aren’t just two Grey Wardens who have their doubts about us.”  
“All the more reason to put them in the ground,” he answered.  
“I just hope that’ll be enough,” Fela replied as she glowered into the fire.  
“We’ll find out either way,” he said quietly.

Suddenly Fela stood, snatched a half empty bottle of brandy off a table and flung it into the fire with a vicious snarl. The fire in the hearth flared when the flammable liquid burst from the bottle.

“We were supposed to be _done_ with slaying monsters!” she shouted at no one in particular, “they were supposed _to_ _let_ _us_ _be!_ Wasn’t the Blight enough!? What the _fuck_ is wrong with the world that it can’t stay _normal_ for more than a year!?”

Alistair stood when she kicked at the chair she had been sitting in and send it tumbling across the room and gently put a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him with a kind of fury that set even him a little on edge, but refrained from knocking more furniture around. He held her stare for a few seconds, until she softened and moved close against him so he could put his arms around her.

“Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it,” he whispered.

She didn’t reply but she wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed. If the tension in her shoulders was any indication, he’d better make sure nothing throwable was within her reach. Asher let out a low whine from his spot next to the sofa, sensing all too keenly what was bothering his mistress.

Thus far, Fela had assumed they were simply up against other people. People who needed to be stomped into the ground to be sure, but just people nonetheless. But whatever it was she picked up on those Anders Wardens, was no simple human threat. It felt, quite frankly, like another monster. The kind she couldn’t go after if she had a baby to take care of. Not even the kind she particularly _wanted_ to go after, but since it already seemed to take an interest in them, there was a fat chance it wasn’t just going to leave them alone.

To be fair, nobody had seen a monster as of yet. And nobody had been attacked. Well, Fela and Zevran had but those were Crows. She was drawing conclusions based on a gut feeling, it wasn’t exactly something that had made itself known. And yet, all of her instincts were screaming. Not like they had when she met Flemeth, nor like they had when she met Zathrian. While both of them had definitely felt strange and out of place, they had their place in the world and functioned in it. But this, this was something else entirely. Something mad, twisted, and power hungry. But also deliberate, patient, and highly intelligent. Those six things, were a dangerous mix.

The time to appear small and unthreatening in the face of a powerful and dangerous enemy was over. In that moment, Fela was reminded of something Morrigan had once said. ‘There is only one appropriate response, Flemeth has to die.’ In this particular situation, Morrigan’s wisdom applied.

There was only one appropriate response; the Grey Wardens from the Anderfells had to die.


	88. Break Some Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fela and Alistair blow off some steam, Rory is debriefed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup.  
> I know it's been a while. It's for boring reasons. Oh and don't try this shit at home kids. Or at all. Don't play with fire.  
> Kisses.

After dealing with a _profoundly_ wrathful wife the day before, Alistair decided they needed a distraction. Meaning, Fela had stopped raging and ranting and had moved on to brooding. Which, wasn’t much better so he felt like he needed to lighten the mood and suggested they invite Zevran and Fergus for drinks. He had almost succeeded too, but then Fergus had asked his sister what was wrong and then he had three profoundly wrathful people to deal with. Which left little room for Alistair himself to be irrationally furious, and it was starting to chafe at him.

Normally, he would have asked Fela to spar with him. Seeing as she was one of the few who could match him. But, Fela was currently unavailable for such a thing. And if he wanted to work some frustration out, he’d need someone who could take him on safely. The few people he could think of were either not in the city, or not even currently in the country. Magnus, Sten, Shale, none of them was in Denerim. Zevran was good, but he didn’t have Fela’s technique. And he had never sparred with Fergus before, so he wasn’t sure he wanted to try and do so while he was as worked up as he was.

So, he thoroughly destroyed several training dummies, did so many push-ups he lost track after about a hundred fifty or so, and ran a number of laps around the training ground that he didn’t even bother to count. It didn’t help much. Being a Grey Warden, it took a _lot_ to wear him out. And even after all of that, he may have been tired physically but he still felt like an incendiary bomb waiting to go off.

Come to think of it, setting something on fire might cheer him up.

He decided against it. Burning stuff would be fun but also difficult to explain when the inevitable rumours started to spread. It wouldn’t do to give people a reason to think he was a pyromaniac. It would put the burning of the blighted lands in an odd perspective.

Unable to think of anything else that might help him get rid of some of the fury, he returned to the royal quarters in a foul mood.

“There you are,” Fela said when he entered, then frowned when she noticed the look on his face, “you need a drink,” she decided and moved to get up.  
“What I _need_ , is a good fight,” Alistair groused.  
“You could go darkspawn hunting,” Fela replied with a shrug and poured Alistair a glass of brandy. She turned to hand it to him, looked at him again, and took the bottle instead.  
“No, I _can’t_ go darkspawn hunting, because ‘ _someone’_ had to be a kill hog and bush whacked them all,” he answered darkly.  
“Right, how dare I do my job,” she replied dryly and handed him the bottle. He took it with a crooked grin and took a swig.  
“Over-achiever,” he answered snidely and took another swig.

“So the exercise didn’t help, huh?” she said as she sat down next to him.  
“Nope.”  
“Well, what are we going to do about that?” she asked and put her feet up on Alistair’s lap.  
“Fuck if I know,” he answered grimly and took another swig.

They sat quietly for a moment. Fela studied Alistair pensively, normally he wasn’t one for bloodlust but right now it seemed he was _itching_ for an excuse. He didn’t come right out and say it, but she felt it just fine. He needed a good killing. Someone or something to go all out on, but that didn’t mean he was just going to pick a target and abuse the shit out of it. He also had a conscious to deal with and it was telling him not to do what he _wanted_ to do. Which was going on a homicidal rampage and tear some stuff apart. Fela was feeling the same thing, plus additional frustration from not being able to without risking harm to her unborn child. But, mommy had to be responsible, as did daddy.

Though, maybe not all _that_ responsible.

“Come on,” Fela said as she got up.  
“What? Why?” Alistair asked with a glare.  
“I have an idea,” she replied.  
“Yeah, so do I, it’s called getting monkey balls drunk and pass out,” he answered flatly and took another swallow.  
“Fine, bring the bottle,” Fela said with a shrug and pulled on his arm.  
“Can I smash it on someone’s head?”  
“No.”  
“Then, pass.”

Fela chuckled a little at that, but held on to his arm and pulled on it again.  
“Come on, get your ass up,” she said impatiently when he resisted and shook her off. Alistair gave her a rebellious look and blew raspberries at her. She tried to frown at him but a smile messed it up. 

“Fine, you can either sit there and pout, or you can come with me and break some stuff,” Fela said and made to turn, but stopped when she saw Alistair perk up. She smiled deviously.  
“That piqued your interest, did it?” she said sweetly.  
“What’s this idea you had?” he asked expectantly.  
“Go someplace quiet and make some fire bombs out of bottles of booze,” she grinned, “then toss them at stuff we want to burn.” Alistair’s eyes widened and his mouth curved into a manic smirk.

“I married a madwoman,” he said and rose to kiss her, “just one thing, I don’t want this to start any rumours.”  
“That won’t be a problem,” Fela replied, “there is an old, unused tower in the north-east wing but it still has a bunch of furniture. The roof has collapsed and given the layer of dust inside, no one has been there in decades. And if anyone did go there, they’d leave tracks in it. If anybody followed, we would know. If we go to the top, we won’t have to worry about choking on smoke, alarming anyone, or accidentally setting the rest of the palace on fire.”  
“Perfect,” he grinned, “let me get a bag, we’re going to need a lot of bottles.”

Fela snickered as she watched him go. Normally, he would have been reluctant to do something possibly dangerous. They would be careful of course, they weren’t stupid, but that did not completely erase the risk of setting yourself on fire by accident. But Alistair was apparently desperate enough for some kind of outlet that he went along with it. Besides, Fela knew how to do it safely. Wild Cat used it as an outlet, Wild Cat _loved_ fire. Then again, Wild Cat was crazy, but so was Fela so what do you expect.

Alistair soon returned with two travel bags, and they went hunting for bottles. Going down to the cellar and ask for, say, twenty bottles of hard liquor, was the way to get caught. This, Fela knew from experience. So, they went around the guest quarters to loot all the booze cabinets. That way nobody would miss them all at once but rather one by one when the time came that a guest went looking for something specific. And who was to say the previous guest didn’t drink it all? Nor would all the guest quarters be occupied at once. Nobody was going to check all those cabinets one after the other, so nobody would notice. Someone might notice the Monarchs lug around two big travel bags, sure, but they wouldn’t know what was in them.

“You did this before, didn’t you?” Alistair asked as he followed Fela into the next guest room.  
“Yeah,” she said casually, “it’s a Wild Cat and Bitch Face story.”  
“Why am I not surprised,” he chuckled. Fela made an indifferent sort of noise, and opened the cabinet. She looked over the bottles appreciatively and started handing the bottles that she liked to Alistair.

“Your parents must have _loved_ the influence she had on you,” Alistair quipped and Fela looked up at him blankly.  
“Who said it was _her_ idea?” she retorted and resumed looting.  
“Well, wasn’t she the one who taught you to pick locks and stuff?” he asked.  
“Well, yes, but it was actually my father who showed me the fire bottle thing in the first place,” she replied.  
“Wait- _what!?_ ” Alistair laughed, “why would he show you that?”  
“Crazy runs in the family, on _both_ sides,” Fela said with a shrug, “and he may have been a little drunk at the time.”  
“Still doesn’t explain why he thought it was a good idea to teach his daughter to make fire bombs,” Alistair countered.  
“Because it’s _fun,_ ” she said and handed him another bottle.  
“No, seriously, how old were you?” he pressed and chuckled.  
“I don’t know, sixteen or something?” Fela answered, “during a harvest festival, you know with the burning man. We always made our own straw puppet, and at some point I had noticed peanuts burn well, so Fergus and I put a _lot_ of peanuts inside. Dad noticed it burned more violently than usual and asked what we did to it. Laughed his ass off, and went on to show us how you make an even more spectacular fire.”  
“How did you ever figure out peanuts burn well?” he asked with a shake of his head.  
“Being bored at some soiree with candles everywhere and snacks on every table. Peanuts included,” she replied, closed the cabinet and made for the door, “garlic burns great too.”  
“I’m going to have to be the responsible parent, aren’t I?” he asked.  
“Most likely.”

“So what’s the story with Wild Cat?” he asked.  
“Oh, she was going through a rough time and I wanted to cheer her up,” Fela replied.  
“Why? What happened?” Alistair asked as he followed.  
“Well… she didn’t have a family to support her, most of the time she supported herself by stealing or scamming. But there were times when she was desperate for gold, so at some point, she took on a loan. From a _really_ shady moneylender. And when she couldn’t pay her return, plus an exorbitant interest, he had a couple of strongarms beat her up and trash her apartment. They destroyed nearly everything she owned,” Fela explained while they made it to the next guest room.

“Damn…” he said slowly.  
“Yeah,” Fela said wistfully, and started looting the next cabinet, “she never took any money from me, I offered it, but she refused every time. Said that lending money was the way to ruin friendships. I even went as far as just leaving it at her place, she always returned every coin. If I had known she had taken that loan, I would have paid it off for her, so she kept it from me.”  
“Why would anyone want to beat up a girl like that,” Alistair said and shook his head, “that’s just wrong…”  
“Like I said, it was a _shady_ moneylender. No legitimate business would give her any credit. She was a street urchin with no family and nothing to her name, they don’t lend money to people who can’t offer some kind of collateral,” Fela replied, “only extortionists do that. Like that one. If they let one person get away without paying their due, their reputation suffers and it’ll get that much harder to collect if word gets out. Those kinds of businesses work because they are intimidating and violent, that’s how they manage to extort the desperate.”

“So how do the fire bottles fit into that story?” Alistair asked.  
“Oh, we burned down his business with them,” Fela said casually, “cheered her right up.”  
“You-” he burst out laughing, “what the fuck, Fela!?”  
“What?” she said indignantly, “what am I going to do, let some abusive asshole ruin my friend’s life?”  
“You could have settled her debt and bought them off,” Alistair said with an amused smile.  
“ _After_ they beat her to shit and destroyed her home?” Fela asked incredulously, “fuck no. He had it coming.”  
“Crazy bitch,” he said affectionately.  
“I know,” she smirked, “and Wild Cat liked to play with fire, so, it seemed appropriate.”  
“Like it does right now?” he said knowingly.  
“Well, yeah,” she replied with a shrug, “shattering glass is satisfying all on its own, add the burst of fire and throwing stuff, it’s pretty awesome. Especially when you are mad and feeling powerless.”  
“Most people suppress those urges,” Alistair said teasingly.  
“Most people are tightly squeezed assholes,” she retorted and she led Alistair to the next guest room.

“So how did you get away with it?” he asked as they entered the next room.  
“I… may have paid the man a visit,” she said in a dodgy tone.  
“What did you do?” Alistair asked mock sternly.  
“I got Fergus and Ser Gilmore, went to see him and explained the benefits of leaving Wild Cat alone in the future,” Fela said with an innocent look before repeating the process of taking bottles out of the cabinet and handing them to Alistair one by one.  
“Did it work?” he asked.  
“Not immediately, no.”  
“What did he do?”  
“When the next payment was due, he got more goons and went and threatened Wild Cat with a knife,” Fela replied, “cut her face to make a point.”  
“And what did _you_ do?”  
“I collected Wild Cat, intimidated, paid off, killed, and knocked out the grunts he used as guards, and beat him within an inch of his life,” she said like she was talking about the weather, “then I let Wild Cat decide what to do with him.”  
“And?”  
“She killed him.”

“I should probably be horrified by that,” he said thoughtfully.  
“Can’t quite bring yourself to though, can you?” Fela said knowingly as she rose.  
“Wild Cat wasn’t the only one he terrorised, was she?”  
“Not by far,” Fela replied simply, “but that wasn’t the reason.”  
“What was?”  
“Guys like that, they just don’t know how to stop,” Fela answered, “they think they are the biggest baboon on the rock and that everyone else just exists for them to walk all over. Have you ever seen a troop of baboons? Crazy violent, and always dominated by one alpha male who takes what he wants and beats anyone who tries to stop him. I tried to send a message, it didn’t get across. I didn’t go in there the first time with a cloak and a big hood. I told him exactly who I was and what I would do.”  
“And he still went after her?” Alistair asked.  
“Like I said, biggest baboon on the rock,” Fela said darkly, “unfortunately for him, I am no baboon.”  
“Just the devil-incarnate,” Alistair smirked.  
“Worse, I am Fela Cousland,” she replied, a little smugly.

After collecting a good dozen of bottles, Fela snatched a torch and they went to the north-east wing. There wasn’t really any reason to steal the torch, she was the Queen, she could take all the torches if she wanted to. But, in the spirit of mischief, it was just more fun that way.

By the time they reached the top of the tower, they were snickering and giggling like children playing a game they know is not permitted. Which, it was, kind of. Nobody was in a position to tell them what they could or couldn’t do, but there were still certain expectations to meet. It was fun in a way only forbidden things are, the sense of rebellion, it was a kind of guilty pleasure. Also a little childish, but Fela and Alistair didn’t care, they were having too much fun.

“Ok, first things first,” Fela said as she picked up a bottle and a rag.  
“You have to make sure that the cloth is plugging the bottle,” she said and showed Alistair how she stuffed the rag in the bottle’s neck, “if you light it and the booze pours out when you throw it, you’ll light yourself on fire. So make sure you stay dry. Now, after you light it, don’t throw it away like a bag of spiders. Hold it up straight,” she held up the bottle to mimic the movement, “it won’t spontaneously explode in your hand, but you shouldn’t let the cloth burn up either, bad idea.”  
“Got it,” Alistair said with a nod.  
“Just to be safe, we have a wool blanket,” Fela continued, “either one of us catches fire, you smother it with the blanket. Don’t go panicking and waving your arms around, that will just make it worse.”  
“Has that happened before?” Alistair asked curiously.  
“No, but once people are on fire and panicking, you can’t have this conversation,” Fela said playfully, “that’s why we are having it now, so you’ll know what to do.”  
“Good point,” he assented, “what else?”  
“Make sure you are out of back splash range, don’t let the bottle drop close to you, unless you want to set yourself ablaze of course. Other than that, just do whatever you can to make sure you don’t get any booze on yourself, especially after the cloth is lit,” she replied.  
“Naturally,” he replied, “ladies first.”

Fela gave him a wicked grin and lit the rag with the torch, making sure it was burning properly before hurling the bottle at the opposite wall. The glass shattered upon impact with the stone and the liquid caught fire as it burst free. Alistair cheered as the flames leapt up and looked at Fela with manic glee. She looked back up at him with an equally insane grin before turning back to watch the flames lick at the wall she had aimed for.

“My turn,” Alistair said excitedly when the flames died down and picked up a bottle and a rag.  
“Yeah it is,” Fela smirked and held up the torch for him. Alistair gleefully threw the bottle at the wall, making her chuckle at his exuberance.

It went on like that for a while. It felt good, breaking some stuff, making it burst into flames, throwing things around. It wasn’t quite the same as killing the Anders Wardens, but it satisfied their destruction drives somewhat. When they ran out of bottles, they threw around some of the old furniture still gathering dust in the empty tower. It felt good, and it wasn’t like anybody would miss it. It kicked up so much dust both of them we covered in a thin layer of grime by the time they were done. They were also snickering like prepubescent morons, and decided to sneak their way back to their quarters rather than just walking there like adults. Neither of them felt much like being an adult right now, especially not a responsible one.

* * *

After a good lunch, and a long, eventful bath, Fela made her way to the Grey Warden Compound.

She had yet to talk to Rory, to debrief him, as it were. If she were in his shoes, she’d want to discuss the conversation with the Anders Wardens. Other than that, the conversation probably left some impressions on Rory that by now had gotten back to the other junior Wardens. She had to at least check on how they took the recent developments, assess the risk of any stunt pulling. While she felt she had been very clear with her instructions, new developments always lead to new evaluations. So a quick reminder wouldn’t hurt.

The Wardens were just taking a break from drills when Fela stepped into the training yard, Stroud waved her over as soon as he spotted her.

“Good afternoon,” he said warmly as Fela approached and briefly glanced over his shoulder at the junior Wardens to see if they were behaving, they were.  
“Afternoon,” Fela replied with a nod, “how are you getting on today?”  
“Just about the same as any day,” Stroud answered.  
“Pretty good then,” Fela replied with a smile.

“I understand Rory had an interesting talk with two men from the Anderfells not long ago,” Stroud curiously.  
“Indeed he did,” Fela replied darkly, “I was hoping to talk to him about that. But before I do, I imagine you have some questions of your own.”  
“If you’ll indulge me,” Stroud nodded.  
“Go ahead.”

“What did the Anders Wardens ask about?” Stroud began.  
“Anything a gossiping fishwife might have asked about,” Fela said wryly, “but I suppose you mean whether there were any questions that stood out.” Stroud gave a nod and looked at Fela expectantly.  
“Their questions appeared to be aimed to get a general idea of my behaviour as Warden Commander,” Fela began, “specifically whether the pregnancy is changing anything about my behaviour. They expressed scepticism, even went as far as to ask Rory if he had any idea how I got to be pregnant. You can probably guess the response he gave.” Stroud chuckled at that a little.  
“Indeed I can, unfortunately,” he replied with a shake of his head, “did he at least avoid any bawdy comments on your private affairs?”  
“He did,” Fela snickered, “brushed it off as a joke. After a while, they got more suggestive in their questioning, insinuating there is much he doesn’t know about me and that I have an unnatural ability to influence people.”  
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that one,” Stroud shrugged, “especially since it’s coming from two people who have never even met you personally.”

“Hold that thought,” Fela replied playfully, “there is more. They asked after Flemeth, why I would end up killing her after she saved Alistair and me from the Tower of Ishal.”  
“Well… I can’t say I haven’t wondered about that myself,” Stroud said slowly, but honestly.  
“But you never asked because I have always been more than a little reluctant to discuss certain events,” Fela replied understandingly, “but, if you wish to know, it was because Flemeth threatened Morrigan’s life.”  
“The apostate?”  
“The very same, she was Flemeth’s daughter after all,” Fela answered, “and believe it or not, but Morrigan is my friend. She just isn’t like the rest of us when it comes to friendship and affection, so while she may have seemed like the coldest bitch in Thedas, she and I care for each other a great deal.”  
“Hence why you were willing to take on Flemeth,” Stroud nodded.  
“Precisely, Morrigan is a stone cold bitch, but she is _my_ stone cold bitch,” Fela said lightly, “being Morrigan’s friend isn’t the same as… being anyone else’s friend really. It’s complicated. Anyway, They asked after Morrigan and Flemeth, the Vigil, and the final battle with the Archdemon.”

“And your log?”  
“Rory was the one who brought it up, as per my instruction, and he mentioned our missing boys as well. They were interested in our efforts to find them,” she added with a slight smile.  
“You still think it was the Anders Wardens that are responsible?”  
“I do,” she said with a nod, “but we still can’t prove it. It doesn’t really matter if I ever find any proof anyway, I let that log be stolen to give them information they stupidly didn’t ask for directly. Those missing boys are far more important.” Stroud nodded his agreement.

“I should resume my duties,” Stroud said as he nodded to the junior Wardens, “they are getting restless.”  
“Mind if I take Rory for a moment? He needs a debriefing of sorts after dealing with nosy Anders Wardens,” Fela answered.  
“By all means,” Stroud replied with a slight bow and led Fela to where the junior Wardens were waiting. Fela gestured for Rory to follow her after a brief greeting and headed towards the common room.

“So,” Fela said as she sat down, less than graciously, “what did you think about our colleagues from the Anderfells?”  
“Honestly?” Rory asked with a slight frown, “I felt like I was speaking to two vipers, waiting to bite.”  
“Hmm,” she replied with a nod, “you know, I got much the same impression, and I was even in another room.”  
“I’m not sure what to think about that conversation…” Rory said and folded his hands in front of himself, “the questions seemed pretty normal…”  
“But it didn’t feel that way, did it?” Fela replied knowingly.  
“No… Not really,” he sighed.  
“Well, now you know why I get so antsy about these guys,” Fela replied casually, “you did well Rory, I’m proud of you.”  
“Did you get any of the answers you were looking for?” he asked hopefully, sitting a little straighter at the compliment.  
“Indirectly,” she nodded, “I have a better idea of what we’re dealing with now. The answers aren’t concrete, but I never expected them to be. Not with _them_ asking the questions anyway.”  
“Commander… Fela,” Rory began hesitantly and groaned to himself, “there is something, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but… I worry.”  
“Me too,” she said soothingly, “I wouldn’t be scheming and spying if I didn’t feel threatened. But you did what you could and you did it well. Don’t you worry about me, I’ve been strutting around the snake pit they call ‘court’ all my life, this game isn’t new to me.”  
“I know that… but there is something wrong about them,” Rory answered, “I’m not sure you are on the same playing field.” Fela laughed at that and gave Rory a devilish grin.  
“Oh no,” she replied ominously, “ _my_ playing field is something different from theirs entirely.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Rory insisted.  
“I know, so do I,” she said reassuringly, “but that doesn’t mean they have me by my throat. We are in are in _my_ homeland, where I hold more power than anyone except my husband. If it comes to it, they could never hope to stand against me. For now, I don’t want to make an enemy out of Weisshaupt, but that doesn’t mean I have little in the way of options to deal with this. Just because I am not taking the easiest route, doesn’t mean I have been forced to take it. Remember that.”

Fela studied Rory as she spoke. He wasn’t looking at her, he was frowning at his hands where he was fidgeting with an old scar on one of his knuckles. She glanced over the set of his shoulders, the tension in his upper back, and the way he had his feet planted on the ground. Like he was ready to jump up and fight an unknown enemy. He looked a little like a Mabari that has picked up on a threat but hasn’t yet decided what kind of threat. He looked alert, vigilant, like he knew something was coming but was unsure of what to expect. There was even a hint of protectiveness, the kind of protectiveness an unrelated male might display towards a pregnant woman. Inexplicable, but everyone always seemed to agree that pregnant ladies weren’t to be messed with. It was instinctual, Fela supposed, Rory probably wasn’t even aware of it.

“It’s a gut feeling, isn’t it?” Fela said after a brief silence.  
“What?”  
“The uneasiness,” she clarified, “the kind you feel when your body has picked up on a threat your mind hasn’t noticed yet.”  
“Maybe… it’s like I know for a fact something is wrong but I can’t figure out _what_ ,” Rory replied, “other than two strangers asking questions… that is. I mean, who _doesn’t_ have questions about the Hero of Ferelden… But these guys… I don’t even know what they want...”  
“And yet there is a scratching at the back of your mind that tells you they are dangerous,” Fela added for him, “don’t ignore it, but don’t let it dictate your behaviour either. It’s a warning, not an instruction.”  
“I… don’t understand,” he replied.  
“Because you are trying to rationalise it, but instincts aren’t rational. The Grey Wardens from the Anderfells left you with an uneasy feeling that you can’t explain, that’s all. Take it as a signal to proceed with caution, not proof or evidence.” Rory gave her a slow nod at that, he didn’t look convinced.

“Ok, listen,” Fela began, “right now, all they are doing is trying to get information. They are doing it in a terribly inefficient manner, to be sure, and it’s more than a little rude to do it behind my back. But that’s all they can currently be accused of. Now, I know you worry, but you did your part and you did it well. I got what I needed from that conversation and I’ll be taking it from here. And just because I feel like a cow at the moment doesn’t mean I am defenceless.” That got her a little chuckle.  
“Consider it a job well done and finished, alright?” Fela continued, “I got it from here.”  
“You mean this isn’t my battle,” he said with a pointed look.  
“That’s right,” she answered, “you can worry about me all you like, Rory, but it won’t help or change anything. You can let it go.”

“Can I ask you something?” Rory said after a brief silence.  
“Sure.”  
“What happened between you and Morrigan?”  
“You mean why did she leave after the battle with the Archdemon?” Fela asked to clarify and Rory nodded.  
“The answer to that question is not as exciting as most people think,” Fela began, “she joined us after Ostagar, because her mother asked her to, and she wasn’t happy about it either. Along the way, Morrigan and I became friends, true. But the simple truth, is that Morrigan joined us because she saw that the Blight threatened us all and needed to be stopped. Once that was done, she had no reason to stay. In fact, while I may have killed Flemeth for her, Morrigan was certain she would be back one day and needed to hide and prepare for when that moment comes. And staying with me in Denerim, isn’t exactly hiding.”  
“Why? Why would a daughter fear her mother so?”  
“Because Flemeth meant to possess Morrigan’s body.”

Rory stared at Fela for a moment. She guessed he was trying to decide if he had heard her right, probably because it was pretty fucked up.

“By possess… you mean…”  
“Taking over Morrigan’s body so she could live on,” Fela clarified, “apparently that’s how Flemeth survived all those centuries, and why there is only one Witch of the Wilds, rather than a whole coven.”  
“And to stop that from happening, you killed Flemeth for her,” Rory concluded.  
“Exactly.”

“Wow…” he said with a stricken look and leaned back in his seat a little, “imagine that… finding out that the woman who raised you is planning to take over your body… I mean, I am assuming that would have killed her, wouldn’t it?”  
“Yeah, pretty sure,” Fela answered, “we believe Flemeth only had Morrigan for this exact purpose. As far as I could tell, Morrigan was a means to an end, nothing more.”  
“Damn…”  
“I don’t know where Morrigan went, I didn’t ask,” Fela continued, “for her safety, it’s best if nobody does, even me.”  
“But Flemeth is dead, the problem is solved, isn’t it?” Rory asked.  
“Morrigan had reason to believe that Flemeth probably wouldn’t stay dead, people have tried to kill her before, it never stuck,” Fela explained, “and nobody knew Flemeth better than Morrigan.”  
“Well… that certainly explains a lot,” Rory said after rubbing his face and a brief shake of his head.

“Wait,” he said after a brief moment of quiet, “if you killed Flemeth, and you don’t believe she’ll stay dead, wouldn’t that put you at risk too?”  
“You know, I've thought about that, and I don’t think so,” Fela said pensively, “Flemeth didn’t seem to take it personal at the time.”  
“Really?” he asked and Fela nodded.  
“Well, lucky you,” Rory replied with a lopsided grin.  
“Indeed,” Fela chuckled, “did you have more questions?”  
“No,” he replied, “that was all.”  
“Good, I have some things to discuss with Stroud,” Fela said and rose, awkwardly, “and you should get back to drills.”  
“Right away, Commander.”

* * *

By the end of the day, Fela was quite pleased with the work she’d gotten done.

Soon, there would be Orlesian Grey Wardens to man Vigil’s Keep. Stroud would be there to receive them and mount the first expeditions. At first, they intended to wait until after Fela could resume her duties fully, meaning, after she gave birth. But the problem with lingering darkspawn was getting worse. _Why_ the darkspawn lingered there, nobody was quite sure. But they needed to wipe them from the surface. Stroud would lead a campaign to systematically seek out and kill any darkspawn still terrorising the land. The recruits would remain in Denerim for now. They were becoming self-reliant enough that they could do with a, slightly, distracted Commander for now. Most of the area around Denerim was clean but there were still some wandering the landscape.

Fela figured it was because the darkspawn had opened many entrances to the Deep Roads during the Blight. They didn’t all come out from the same place, that would take too long. And an Archdemon was smart enough to keep its troops ‘stationed’ out of sight. What better way to do that than to amass them underground before sending them to the surface? Since the Blight ended and she had started to rebuild the Order, the Wardens had closed off several tunnels. They had found them by marking a map every time they found darkspawn to narrow down which area’s to search. If you get ten reports of darkspawn around the same hill, there is probably an entrance somewhere around there. If you want to solve your problem, you go and close it off.

At first, Fabliaux and Germain were in charge of finding any entrances and setting up a mission to close it off. But by now, the junior Wardens were experienced enough to take over. That didn’t mean they suddenly became amateur stonemasons and carpenters, Dan and Nate oversaw contracting with local craftsmen who could seal the opening after the Wardens had made it safe enough to start closing it. The Wardens remained as security while they worked. Dan would find the right people and Nate would handle the finances from a fund that Fela had set up. After all, people don’t go into a potentially dangerous area to do labour for free. Dan actually might have been able to talk a few into it, but craftsmen needed their income. If they were off sealing an entrance to the Deep Roads they weren’t working on projects for their customers, so a compensation was required.

True, if they had really wanted to they could have demanded materials and labourers on the Order’s authority. But Fela saw no need to immediately start chipping away at the goodwill they had earned among the still recovering people. And it was hard earned too, they stopped a Blight for it. Plus, it seemed like a good idea to involve the common people in the effort. It cultivated a sense of shared responsibility, stimulating the willingness to cooperate. And spreading some general knowledge about darkspawn and the Taint among commoners should help in keeping people safe. If they knew what to do when someone got into contact with them, it could reduce the number of Blight disease cases. 

Alistair was already in their quarters when she and Asher entered, meticulously cleaning and oiling his sword. He might not have needed to do it himself but Alistair found a form of comfort in maintaining a weapon. A habit he kept after the Blight even though his fighting days were over.

“Hi handsome,” Fela said playfully and moved to kiss Alistair’s cheek. He turned into it and caught her lips instead.  
“Hello love,” he replied, “had a good day?”  
“Oh yeah, I got to set some stuff on fire, that counts as an awesome day just by itself,” she answered and sat down on the sofa.  
“Well, good,” he chuckled and returned his attention to the task of maintaining his sword.  
“What about your day?” Fela asked, “you started out pretty cranky.”  
“And then we set some stuff on fire,” he replied easily, “I quite agree with your definition of an awesome day.”

Fela smiled, kicked off her boots, and leaned back in the pillows on the sofa, shifting a little to get comfortable. They settled into a comfortable silence. Fela watched Alistair work, content to let him complete his task without further conversation. Alistair was usually quite chatty, but weapon maintenance was one of the few things he liked to do in silence. It relaxed him, so she let him do his thing without distracting him. Besides, she never got tired of looking at him.

“You are staring at me,” he said without looking up.  
“Admiring you, is the term I would use,” she answered without turning her gaze.  
“Quite boldly, I would say,” Alistair continued.  
“I like watching you work,” Fela replied in velvety tones and folded her arms behind her head.  
“It is rude to stare,” he pointed out.  
“ _Admire_ ,” she countered, “though I think I would admire you more if you took your shirt off.” He looked up at her then, giving her an amused smile.  
“Would you now?” he replied slowly.  
“Indulge me,” Fela answered and gave him a look that reminded him of a cat watching its prey.  
“And while I’m at it, would you like me to dance for you too?” he replied glibly. Fela chuckled.  
“If that makes you happy, but I would be content just to watch my man work on that weapon without his shirt on,” she answered innocently.  
“’Your man’ huh?” Alistair replied and stood to do as she asked.  
“That’s right,” she smirked.  
“Well, far be it from me to deny my woman her wish,” he answered and picked up his sword again to resume the process.

Fela smirked a little wider and bit her lip. She let her gaze wander across his chest and shoulders as he moved, watching the muscles of his forearms draw taut with each stroke. There was something about the way he moved, it made her itch to touch him. Run her hands along all that hard muscle and make him shiver. The line of his neck made her want to bite and suck bruises into his skin, scratch angry red lines across his shoulders and make a greedy fist in his hair.

Despite the urge to devour Alistair, Fela patiently waited until he finished his task and set the weapon aside. He wore the widest smirk when he turned to look at her and chuckled.

“You,” he said in a low voice and ran a hand up her thigh, “are looking at me like I am your next meal.”  
“I think you like it,” she replied coyly. Alistair leaned over her to kiss her and chuckled at how eagerly she kissed him back. He felt goose bumps rise on his skin as she gently ran her fingernails across his shoulders, making a light tingling sensation wash over him.

“How is it that I can never get enough of you,” Fela whispered against his lips.  
“I’ve been wondering where you find the energy,” Alistair replied and settled over her to take her in his arms, “I thought I left you sated and pleased in the tub earlier today.”  
“Hmm, I _was_ sated and pleased,” she answered and kissed him again.  
“But it never lasts long, does it?” he teased and nipped at her bottom lip.  
“Something about you,” she sighed, “I think I might be addicted.”  
“Oh is _that_ your excuse?” he teased, kissing along her jawline.  
“Why would I need an excuse for wanting my gorgeous husband?” she challenged.

Alistair looked up at her briefly before leaning in to kiss her lips. Softly at first, then hungrily as she kissed him back. Fela let her hands wander from his shoulders to his upper arms, where she felt up his biceps quite shamelessly. He flexed them for her, earning an appreciative hum. Meanwhile she ran a leg up against his invitingly.

Alistair let himself be swept up by her touch, by her desire and want. There was something in the way she held him, about the way she made him feel wanted, _needed_ even. Knowing that his wife loved every inch of him and could never get enough did something to him. She nipped at his chin when his smile got too wide to kiss her back, then at his nose, and his jaw, his ear, and finally his neck. By then she had him chuckling and nuzzling the side of her head.

“You are…” he chuckled again and kissed the shell of her ear while running a hand across her stomach, “something.”  
“That could mean anything,” she answered teasingly.  
“I love you,” he clarified.   
“I love you too,” she replied and caught his lips in another kiss.

One of Alistair’s hands slipped under Fela’s tunic to caress her side, following the shape of her waist up to her lower ribs. It was funny, if you saw her from behind you wouldn’t notice she was pregnant. But look at her from the side, or front, you’d think she was about to give birth. Even though she still had a couple of weeks to go, though it wouldn’t be long now.

Meanwhile Fela had started working on the lacing of Alistair’s trousers to get at his erection, which had been pressing into her thigh for some time now. He groaned softly when he felt her hand slip in and close around his cock. Her other hand still roamed the muscles in his shoulders with a possessive touch, testing their firmness with her fingers.

Alistair sat up for a moment, pulling Fela’s tunic off and peeling away her leggings. She lifted her legs up in the air so he could remove them, and her smalls, without having to move from his position in front of her. He cupped her ass with one of his hands as she lowered her legs down again and wrapped them around his waist. By then she had gotten rid of her breastband, giving Alistair full access to her breasts as he kissed a trail down from her neck. She let out a sigh that sounded more like a purr when he circled one of her nipples with his tongue before placing a soft kiss on it, taking the little nub between his lips without sucking on it. She was liable to kick him off if he did that, creeped out by the idea of breastfeeding him. It was alright, Alistair didn’t mind. Sucking on her tits wasn’t the only way to make her shiver and sigh, and there was still the rest of them to play with.

Alistair, loved boobs. There was no other way he could put it. And Fela, had a pair of _very_ nice ones. Full, round, and perkier than they had any right to be given their size. He kissed every inch of them, leaning on his elbows to knead them with his hands. He was careful not to put too much of his weight on her, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be any skin contact. Something Fela seemed to crave, she liked holding him close, as she did now. Her hands all over him, legs wrapped around him, and her stomach gently pressed between them.

Fela shifted under him a little, and slipped his unlaced breeches and smalls down his hips. Not wasting a moment longer, she wrapped a hand around his cock and guided him down to where she wanted him. She let out a quiet moan when he pressed inside, hooking her legs around his back and pulling herself up a little to take him in deeper.

By then Alistair was devouring her neck and bit the muscle that ran down from just behind her ear and sucked. It earned him a delighted squeal and ten fingernails dug into his shoulders. Not so hard she might break the skin, but hard enough to leave marks. It didn’t really hurt, as such, it was just opposite the fine line to pain. She was good at that, keeping the sensation just on the brink of being painful, but never quite past it. And Alistair had long since discovered that _really_ worked for him. It enticed him to set a faster rhythm than he had intended, the feeling of fucking her made more intense by the scratches on his shoulders.

Fela clung to him as they moved, nearly lifting herself off the sofa to be closer. As close as she could get, taking him inside herself and holding on with something close to desperation. He gladly let her, burying himself inside her with every thrust, savouring the feeling of her heat pressing down on his cock as if to keep him there. She moaned into his ear, bit his earlobe, nuzzled his neck, and dragged her fingernails across his skin. Alistair let himself get lost in it, holding her close as he rolled his hips to make her moan just a little louder. Make her cling to him just a little tighter, make her chase the pleasure of his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside.

They worked to their peak slowly, tangled up in each other. Reducing their world to the sweet pleasure they were sharing. Alistair could feel Fela cling on to him even tighter as her orgasm started to build. Tightening her arms and clenching her thighs around him. He responded by holding her closer and increasing the force of his thrusts. Her voice caught in her throat, turning the moans to gasps as he drove her towards the final rush. He felt it when she reached it, her pussy clamped around him in the best of ways. Tightening and quivering to make him soar right after her. He let out a groan that send a tingle down Fela’s spine. She nuzzled his neck as he rocked to a stop, releasing her grip on him somewhat but not letting go as they caught their breath.

Alistair sighed and propped himself up on his elbows.  
“Happy and sated again?” he asked teasingly.  
“Mm-hmm,” she replied lazily and let her hands wander to his neck to pull him in for a kiss, “for now,” she added as the kiss broke. Alistair chuckled and gently untangled himself from her.  
“You’re terrible,” he said and stood.  
“You still love it,” she answered easily and stretched before curling up on her side.  
“Yeah,” he admitted with a smirk, “wanna go to bed early?”  
“Hmm, that’d be great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to say it again in case I was too cryptic before:  
> Don't play with fire and don't do what Fela and Alistair did with the bottles. It's dangerous, and a bad idea. I'm the last person to say fire isn't fun, but I'd rather everyone keeps themselves safe. Seriously.


	89. Chapter 89

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Dan's turn to be interrogated. Oh, I'm sorry, I mean interviewed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because there were boring reasons doesn't mean I didn't write at all.

Rory’s performance had the desired effect.

Fela was sitting in her office, pleased to receive a report that the Anders Wardens had been seen speaking to the innkeep at the Gnawed Noble. They weren’t out of the city yet, and there was no guarantee that they would indeed leave to search for the Dalish in the Brecilian Forest, but the first nudge had been given. It would be interesting to see what they would do next, who they might talk to. Now it was a matter of waiting and watching for another opportunity for another nudge. Which wasn’t to say Fela was patient, the sooner they were in the ground, the better. She occupied herself with coming up with additional plans to steer the Wardens to the Brecilian Forest. If they wanted to know what they might expect there, who might they talk to? Could she reach them first? What would she have them say?

Her thoughts were interrupted when a knock came at the door.

“Yes?” she called and the door opened to reveal Wynne. Fela promptly stood. Well… she staggered up out of her chair with all the elegance of a turtle lying on its back, but she got to her feet.  
“Wynne, it’s good to see you,” she said warmly.  
“It’s good to see you too dear,” the elderly mage answered in her familiar grandmotherly tone, “you are looking well.”

Wynne had been kept quite busy in the refugee camps to organise medical care over the past year, and since their last trip to Kinloch Hold, they had not seen each other much. Wynne was still Fela’s go-to healer, obviously, but Wynne and Fela both had many other duties to tend to. So since there hadn’t been any problems with Fela’s health, they hadn’t seen each other much aside from the occasional check-up. 

“To what do I owe this visit?” Fela asked, “I thought you were still up to your elbows in wounded and sick.”  
“I have been transferring my duties to the other healers, my work might be done soon,” Wynne replied, “and it had been a while since I last came to see how you are doing.” Fela smiled, despite how busy Wynne had been, she still checked in on Fela from time to time. Wynne didn’t have much free time these days, and since the refugee camps were located outside the city, a visit to the palace wasn’t something you could do within a few minutes.

“I’m fine,” Fela said reassuringly, “all safe and responsible.”  
“You were attacked by Crows not three months ago,” Wynne said with a raised eyebrow.  
“And look how that turned out,” Fela quipped. Wynne sighed, smiled, and shook her head.  
“Most people in your position would at least be shaken by the event,” she said with a sideways look. Fela shrugged.  
“Eh, it loses its shine, it was hardly the first time something like _that_ happened,” she replied lightly, “and the situation has been dealt with swiftly, curtesy of my brother and Zevran.”  
“I am aware, unfortunately,” Wynne said wryly, “why don’t you sit with us, dear, you hardly need to keep hidden for _my_ sake.” Zevran emerged from the shadows with a charming smile.  
“It’s good to see you too, Wynne,” he said easily and sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk.  
“Do you spy on _everyone_ that comes in here?” she asked.  
“Dearest Wynne, I am simply guarding Fela here. Don’t tell me you disapprove,” Zevran tutted playfully.

“You know there is no need for a body guard to always be hidden,” Wynne said crisply, “I would think that making your presence known is only likely to discourage any attempts at violence.”  
“I don’t need to discourage them, just stop them when they happen,” the assassin replied glibly.  
“That makes no sense Zevran,” Wynne frowned.  
“If anybody is influencing anyone in here to discourage attempts at violence, it’s her,” he replied and nodded to Fela, “and I am at my best when I see my opponent, but they don’t see me.”  
“He likes to call it ‘subtly playing into our strengths,’” Fela added with a lopsided grin, “it has a strategy and everything.”  
“Spying on people is not subtle,” Wynne said with an arched eyebrow.  
“It’s more subtle than having an armed, highly trained assassin by your side at all times,” Fela shrugged, “that doesn’t really make people feel welcome.”  
“But you _do_ have an armed and highly trained assassin by your side at all times,” Wynne said exasperatedly, “him being out of sight doesn’t make it better.”  
“Of course it does,” Zevran said, “that’s just how assassins work.” Wynne threw her hands in the air.  
“I am talking about _transparency_ ,” she said sternly, “about being honest and open with your guests.”  
“I’m pretty sure they all know they are walking into a room with a dangerous individual in it,” he replied and winked at Wynne.  
“You’re just going in circles now,” she said flatly.  
“No I’m not,” Zevran said brightly, and Wynne shook her head.

“You walk into a room with Fela in it, and you think you are with a harmless person?” he quipped and chuckled at Wynne’s glare.  
“Let me explain,” he continued, “anyone who wishes Fela harm, will have a hard time getting into a position to do so. You don’t just drop in on the Queen, after all, lots of guards on the way. So, should anyone manage to get close enough, they would be _too_ close, as it were. Should such a situation occur, you would want any advantage you can get. I work best from the shadows, so that’s where I am. Much easier to take out a man who doesn’t see you coming than one that knows you are there.”

“Hmm, you are almost making it sound logical,” Wynne said with a frown.  
“It’s actually quite simple,” Fela said with a shrug, “he’s an assassin, so he works like one. He’s most effective that way. If I wanted a body guard that works in plain sight, I would get one.”  
“But you want one that _isn’t_ in plain sight?” Wynne replied with raised eyebrows.  
“No, I just want Zevran,” she answered, “and Zev is an assassin, so,” she made a vague gesture, “here we are.” Wynne shook her head and sighed.  
“I’m trying to say that it’s poor manners to have Zevran spy on everyone that talks to you,” she repeated.  
“Yeah, that’s where you go wrong,” Fela said, “if I start putting manners and etiquette above my personal safety, I might as well stick my head in a noose. Not that Alistair would ever let me, Zevran is simply here as a precaution, not as a threat.”  
“I am your _healer,_ you know you have nothing to worry about with me,” Wynne said obstinately.  
“Of course we know that,” Zevran said patiently, “but the whole point of a precaution is that it is there just in case, most of the time it isn’t needed. If it is, it’s not a precaution anymore but a response protocol.”  
“And the response protocol is right outside in the form of my personal guard,” Fela added, “honestly, Wynne, I thought you would be the last person to complain about my safety measures. Except maybe because you think they aren’t thorough enough. But surely you’re not here to discuss my security?”  
“No dear, I was hoping to go over a few things for when the baby comes,” Wynne replied.

“Oh, of course,” Fela said with a nod.  
“Would you… prefer to speak in private?” Wynne asked.  
“Nah,” Fela said and looked at Zevran, “unless you would rather be doing something else?”  
“No need,” Zevran said lightly, “I am probably going to be present for whatever it is you need to discuss anyway.”  
“Very well,” Wynne said, “I assume you have a nursery ready?”  
“Are you kidding? Alistair has had the nursery ready for six months now,” Fela said with a chuckle.  
“Speaking of Alistair, shouldn’t he be here for this?” Zevran asked.  
“He’s very involved,” Fela added and put a hand on her round stomach.  
“I think he would have carried the child _for you,_ if that were an option,” Zevran quipped. Fela opened her mouth to answer but Wynne beat her to it.

“It’ll be fine if you simply relay the information to him,” she said, “I understand he is currently in a meeting.”  
“Alright,” Fela said, “but don’t blame me if he asks you to have this conversation with him a second time.”  
“He is going to feel left out,” Zevran smirked.  
“He’ll be _fine,_ ” Wynne said, “now, let’s start with the basics.” Fela and Zevran shifted in their seats to look attentive and innocent.

“First, contractions,” Wynne started, “usually the first sign you are going into labour. While they may be uncomfortable, there is no need to panic once they start. It may take me a while to get here, but we’ll most likely have a few hours to get ready. To ease the pain, you could take a hot bath while you wait for me. I also recommend you eat and drink a little, you’ll need your strength. And try not to worry too much, just get comfortable and leave the hurrying to me. I will get here as fast as I can, but it’s important that you try to relax.” Fela nodded as Wynne spoke. She had been there when her sister in law started having contractions before her nephew was born. Oriana had been frantic that Fergus wouldn’t get there on time and her mother had tried calming Oriana down, saying the same things Wynne was. Oriana and her Antivan temperament were a mighty thing to behold, Fela smiled at the memory.

“Walking around a bit might also help, just do what makes you most comfortable,” Wynne continued, “at some point, your water will break. But then it could still take a while before the baby is ready to be born, you’ll still have plenty of time. Now, as I understand it you don’t have anyone close by to call on before I get there.” Fela opened her mouth to respond but Wynne continued before she could.

“I know you don’t like the idea of a stranger as a healer, but it’ll be good to have someone to fall back on,” she said.  
“Yeah, no,” Fela said dryly.  
“Why not?” Wynne asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“Because most of the business will be down between my legs,” Fela replied simply, “I like to keep the number of people who take a peek down there to a minimum.”  
“There is no reason to be ashamed-” Wynne began.  
“Ashamed?” Fela said incredulously, “you think I don’t like the idea of a stranger poking around my snatch because I’m _ashamed?_ ”  
“If not that, what is it?” Wynne asked.  
“Common sense,” she replied flatly and Wynne shook her head.  
“At some point we will need to see if you have dilated enough to start pushing,” Wynne said calmly.  
“Anyone sticks their fingers up my vagina and I’ll snap them off,” Fela said stubbornly and crossed her arms.  
“Except Alistair right?” Zevran smirked and earning himself a kick to his shins from Fela and an eyeroll from Wynne.

“Very well,” Wynne said with a sigh, “but I recommend you keep someone nearby just in case you change your mind.”  
“Fine,” Fela shrugged, “but don’t be surprised if you end up having to heal someone’s broken bones.”  
“Like _that_ has never happened before,” Wynne replied dryly.  
“Didn’t you have a court healer on your staff?” Zevran asked.  
“Yes,” Fela replied in a dodgy tone. The healer Zevran was talking about was old, really old, ancient even, if Fela was to be believed. And he was no mage.

“Well, simply instruct him on how you want him to respond before it’s go-time,” he shrugged.  
“I’m not letting that old codger touch me with a ten foot pole,” Fela replied sharply, “I went to him for some elfroot once, and he suggested using leeches to relieve menstrual cramps. _Leeches!_ He thought getting rid of ‘excess blood’ would help the process along!” Both Wynne and Zevran frowned at that.  
“And… where did he suggest he put them, exactly?” Zevran asked with a pensive look that bordered on deeply disturbed.  
“Where do you think?” Fela replied wryly, Wynne looked utterly disgusted.  
“And… you didn’t fire him?” she said hesitantly.  
“I was going to, but Eamon reassigned him as a military physician,” Fela replied, “where I imagine he is trying to cure blood loss with _more_ blood loss by leeches,” she replied distastefully, “not that leeches suck _that much_ blood but at some point every drop counts.”  
“Has the position remained vacant?” Wynne asked and Fela nodded.  
“So far,” she said, “the healers that _actually_ know what they are doing are kept busy with sick and wounded refugees.”  
“And that leaves you with the quacks and charlatans,” Zevran nodded.  
“So you have nobody on staff?” Wynne asked in a chiding tone.  
“Nobody who knows more medicine than Alistair,” Fela shrugged.  
“Well, that won’t do,” Wynne replied crisply, “I’ll find you a competent healer. I imagine you would prefer a mage?”  
“You’ve spoiled me,” Fela replied and gave Wynne a fond smile. The elderly woman sighed and shook her head.  
“Well, at least you aren’t letting some hack tend to your health,” she finally said, “the number of refugees is finally going down so that should free up a spirit healer for you.”

Wynne brought the conversation back to labour and birth eventually. But not before chastising Fela for not having someone close by in case she needed it. Fela simply stated she trusted Alistair more than any kind of stranger and Wynne finally had to admit that Fela probably had a point on that. Even Wynne had been impressed by how much the young man had learned on his own. He was more than able to assess the severity of a health problem and knew when to get the help of a professional like Wynne. Plus, he was her husband, it made sense she was more comfortable with him than with anyone else. Still, Wynne was adamant that they keep a healer nearby. For all Alistair’s knowledge, he still wasn’t a healer. And as much as Wynne wanted to, she couldn’t promise to stay on indefinitely, for various reasons. Fela would have to get used to a different healer sooner or later, but for now, Wynne would remain available. And she would be lying if she said that it didn’t warm her heart a little that Fela had gotten so attached to her.

Wynne spent more time in Fela’s office than she had originally planned. She had missed the younger woman’s company, she was… pure… in a way. Genuine. More so than others it seemed sometimes. Mostly she just attributed it to the younger woman being charismatic, but her charisma wasn’t the only reason Wynne felt so at ease around her. Fela had a way of making you feel valued and appreciated, it was why so many people were willing to go to the end of the world for her, though she would never ask it. Oh sure, she was also stubborn, sarcastic, and never seemed to take anything seriously. Except for when she did, she was a force to reckoned with when she did.

Wynne had watched her take down the Archdemon after getting smashed into a broken tower. She had half believed the impact had broken Fela’s spine and at least an arm and a leg. But she had gotten right back up and charged the monster. Being thrown like that, hitting a brick wall and going down with the debris should have at least incapacitated her. Instead it just made her angry, angrier, and it had ended with a ballista bolt stuck in the Archdemon’s skull.

Wynne would never have admitted it to anyone, but when she saw Fela limp in Alistair’s arms she had been certain that the feisty young woman had died. Like a berserker that cuts loose for the last time, knowing he has taken a lethal hit and is unbound by the need to survive. But if Fela had suffered any broken bones, that charge wouldn’t have been possible. Not even for a berserker. Not in the way Fela did it. Mowing down enemies, leaping up the battlements, the impossible strength behind that bolt when she threw it. Indeed, when she examined the unconscious woman, she found no bone fractures. She was injured, and badly too, but not in the way Wynne expected her to be. The human body couldn’t take a beating like _that_ and live. As a healer, Wynne knew this for a fact.

But what had terrified Wynne the most, was the song that Alistair had described. For a moment, Wynne had been afraid that the Archdemon’s soul had passed into her and stayed there. Which, shouldn’t even be possible, but Fela being alive shouldn’t have been possible either. Wynne wondered from time to time, why Fela appeared to be so difficult to kill. Aside from the whole Archdemon debacle, she had seen the younger woman sustain various injuries that should have killed her, Grey Warden or no. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps she was simply too stubborn to die, perhaps it was something more. Wynne didn’t know.

She had examined Fela, shortly after the battle with the Archdemon, because that’s what you did when someone wouldn’t wake up for an unknown reason. And physically, Wynne couldn’t find anything that might explain why. That was the problem with head injuries, you couldn’t always see them on the outside. It was entirely possible she remained unconscious because she had taken a blow to the head when she was thrown, twice. But Wynne couldn’t know. The same was true for the Taint affecting her in whatever way it did. If it was doing anything, Wynne couldn’t tell from the outside, save for the eating and the nightmares. The same was true for Alistair of course, but Fela had survived a few things too many for it to be a coincidence. Alistair could still simply be counted lucky.

If anything, Wynne was glad that Fela didn’t die easy. But it made her wonder. And so it was, that Wynne reached out to her spirit. Or at least, she made an attempt at communicating with it. It was odd, they were one and the same, and at the same time they weren’t. Wynne couldn’t always tell where she ended and the spirit began. Mostly the exercise had been terribly confusing. There was no manual for this sort of thing, Wynne had no reference. She wasn’t even entirely sure what she was. Not an abomination, but ‘not an abomination’ could still be many different things. She tried not to dwell on that.

It had been… messy. Wynne had felt like she was a child fumbling around to get her pen grip right, struggling to control her fingers. She had been dreaming, and the Fade didn’t always behave predictably. And communicating with spirits was something she had been taught to avoid, so she had been unsure of what to do. She had not even been sure what she wanted to ask, so she had tried to relay her worry for her friend, hoping the spirit would understand and know what to do.

It didn’t speak to her, as such. But she had felt a sense of understanding. And then a sense of certainty, the only soul present in Fela’s body, was her own. And then she felt a sense of curiosity and surprise but she wasn’t sure at what. The part of her that was the spirit, had sensed something unusual about Fela. It had had almost seemed excited, like a child that spots a wild and reclusive animal that it knew existed but has never seen before. Wynne tried not to read into that too much, but it was hard not to take it as a conformation that Fela was… something…

At any rate, she trusted her spirit and as far as Wynne could tell, Fela was fine. She was herself. Wynne had found no answers as to the song Alistair heard coming from her, but any questions she might have had about that would have been too specific to get anything concrete. Save for the feeling that it was alright.

She left Fela’s office in a good mood, despite the bickering and discussions on responsible behaviour. There was a kind of comfort in it, a familiarity. Perhaps it was inappropriate to be lecturing the _Queen_ on her behaviour but Fela didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she seemed to be holding on to old patterns just as much as Wynne was. It was a good thing, Wynne supposed, that becoming Queen didn’t change how Fela treated others. The same could be said for Alistair. Oh sure, they could switch to a strictly professional attitude while they were holding court for example. But to those who were close to them, neither Fela’s nor Alistair’s treatment of them had changed.

Nor had their treatment of each other changed. They still had the same immature sense of humour, in Wynne’s opinion at least, and they were still practically joined at the hip. Each had their own duties to attend to of course, but outside of that, it was rare to find one without the other. 

Wynne smiled to herself as she left the palace.

Fela, Alistair, and Zevran were three of her closest friends. Their happiness brought Wynne a sense of peace. The kind of peace you feel when you leave something behind, knowing that it will do fine without you. The kind of peace that usually comes with saying goodbye.

But before all that, she had some things to do. And Wynne was never one to stay idle.

* * *

It didn’t take long for the next recruit to be contacted.

This time, Dan was the lucky one. He was invited to the same tavern Rory was, which suited Fela just fine. Now she was sitting across from Dan in his quarters, trying to decide how ‘hard’ of a nudge she wanted Dan to give. She didn’t want him to implicate himself, and he had no particular ties to the Dalish, but he might know someone who did. That was probably why the Anders Wardens chose him.

“So, I just do what you told Rory to do, right?” Dan asked, “make them work for it?”  
“Mostly,” Fela replied, “what did he tell you?”  
“That you didn’t really care what he told them so long as he kept making them work for each answer, forcing them to get more specific,” Dan replied, “the point is to make them talk right? Or rather, make them explain what they want to know in more detail.”  
“That was the general strategy, yes,” Fela replied, “but you seem more like the type to do a lot of talking of your own.”  
“I’m good at talking,” Dan replied with a coy smile.  
“So I gathered,” Fela said with a chuckle, “I’m mostly interested in how you would naturally respond to being asked to meet two minstrels in a tavern. Excited? Suspicious? Hoping to make some extra coin?”  
“You have a good point with the coin,” Dan said thoughtfully, “think I could squeeze some silver out of them?”  
“Perhaps even gold, depending on what they want to know,” Fela answered, “it would be interesting to see them react to such an opportunity. But, I’d rather not have you scam them and your name getting back to whoever is behind this nonsensical spying campaign.”  
“Well, I don’t _have_ to scam them,” Dan replied, “I could just bait them into it.”  
“If the opportunity arises… But it has to come from them, don’t offer it up yourself,” Fela replied.  
“Why?” Dan asked curiously.  
“Because I want them to think it’s their idea,” Fela said simply.  
“Oh, ok, I can do that,” Dan said and nodded. Fela arched her eyebrows.

“Just like that?” she asked.  
“Sure,” Dan replied easily, “you want them to think they are in control, move _with_ them instead of against them, right?”  
“Exactly,” Fela nodded.  
“Yeah that’s pretty basic scamming strategy,” Dan said, “they’ll be more pliable if they think it was their idea.”  
“Indeed they will,” Fela said with a smile, “now, I expect they will ask after Morrigan. When they do, you tell them what you know.”  
“So, nothing,” Dan said, “I don’t know anything about Morrigan. Except that she is an apostate and a friend of yours.”  
“Correct. If they press the issue, and I’m pretty sure they will, I want you to ask them why they are interested in her,” Fela continued, “but do it casually, act confused.” Dan nodded.  
“Gotcha, friends have each other’s backs,” he replied.

“Very good,” Fela replied, “so far they have also been asking about my pregnancy a lot, so you can expect questions about that too. Killing the Archdemon will likely be on the list as well. And maybe some questions about me having an influence on people. But the most important thing Dan, is that you aren’t supposed to know who they are. You are not talking to two Grey Wardens, you are talking to two minstrels who have come here chasing stories. Don’t let them know you are on to them.”  
“Naturally,” Dan said and balanced his chair on two legs as he leaned back in his seat.

“You really aren’t nervous about all of this, are you?” Fela asked and studied him. Dan looked relaxed, no tension in his muscles, an easy smile on his lips, and a playful gleam in his eyes.  
“Nah,” Dan said, “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”  
“Absolute doom would mean that they attack you,” Fela replied with a shrug, “but that’s highly unlikely.”  
“Precisely, and if they _do_ attack me, I’m not sticking around for a fight, compound is right here,” he said, “and it’s not like nobody has ever tried to attack me, it’ll be fine. I know how to defend myself and get away. I’m good at getting away.”  
“And you won’t be alone,” Fela nodded, “I’ve got people ready, even Asher is going under cover. Right boy? You’re gonna be by the hearth, playing a lazy boy.” Asher wagged his tail and pressed his head a little firmer into Fela’s hand when she petted him, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Dan, we never discussed what happened to you during the Blight,” Fela began slowly.  
“I know,” Dan said evenly. He looked perfectly blank when Fela met his eyes. The shift from his easy-going, unworried demeanour to hermetically closed off expressionlessness was remarkable.  
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but those Anders Wardens might ask,” Fela replied, “I just thought I should give you a heads up.”  
“I see,” Dan answered after a brief silence.

Shianni and Soris had told Fela a few things. It was why she had let Shianni slit Vaughan Kendells’ throat.

“Thanks for the warning, Commander,” Dan finally sighed and relaxed a bit, “and… don’t be surprised when I start lying, I guess.”  
“It’s alright,” Fela said, “you can tell them whatever you want, I just thought you should know before they catch you off guard with it. I’ll be listening, after all.”  
“Yeah, that would have been awkward,” Dan answered.

“Change of topics?” Fela asked lightly.  
“Change of topics,” Dan replied with a nod.  
“So, Juno and Rory,” Fela began.  
“Oh, yeah totally,” Dan said enthusiastically, “they go out together all the time, and they make these big cow eyes at each other when they think nobody is looking.”  
“I thought so,” Fela chuckled.  
“Wait, this isn’t going to be a problem, right?” Dan asked suddenly, “I didn’t just rat them out did I?”  
“Oh, no,” Fela laughed, “I’m the last person who should be condemning ‘fraternising’ with colleagues. I even ended up marrying another Grey Warden.”  
“He doesn’t serve the Order anymore though, does he?” Dan asked, “he isn’t your subordinate.”  
“Well, Alistair’s resignation was kind of implied when he was crowned…” Fela said, “but then I went and got crowned too and I’m still here, so I guess we never made it official. But he did decide to leave the Order, and then there was only me left so it just fell to me to rebuild the Grey Wardens. He’s still a Grey Warden in the sense that he still carries the Taint, like we do. But he serves only Ferelden now.”  
“Makes sense,” Dan said, “and we benefit from such strong ties to the crown.”  
“It has its perks,” Fela nodded.

“You’d think Weisshaupt would understand that,” Fela said with a sigh.  
“What do you mean?” Dan asked.  
“From what we understand, the First Warden is deeply involved with the Anders Monarchy,” Fela said, “makes sense, it’s our headquarters there. Stroud, Fabliaux, and Germain would probably tell you it’s best that Grey Wardens don’t involve themselves with politics, but that’s simply impossible. Lords and Kings don’t like it when you pretend they aren’t there, we have to work with them one way or another.”  
“Doesn’t mean we have to care who is ruling what though,” Dan said with a shrug, “so long as they don’t hamper the Order in keeping the darkspawn at bay.”  
“Yeah, that’s just it, they do,” Fela said, “squabbling or warring Lords can cause all kinds of hick-ups, trade stagnates, supplies don’t arrive, roads are unsafe, news travels poorly. It affects much more than people realise when nobles start measuring cocks.”  
“You’re noble, right?” Dan asked with a sideways look.  
“As noble and spoiled as they come,” Fela said honestly, “I know what goes on inside those keeps, it isn’t pretty.”  
“You can say that again,” Dan replied darkly, “maybe Weisshaupt sees you as a potential rival.”  
“Who knows,” Fela shrugged.

“I’ve been wondering about something,” Dan said slowly. Fela looked at him expectantly as she waited for him to continue.  
“How sure are you that these guys really are from Weisshaupt?”  
“Hmm, let’s just say I’ve spoken to some people who may know some other people who may or may not have come across some correspondences,” Fela said with a lopsided grin, “why do you ask?”  
“Rory said they claimed to be from the Anderfells but… I don’t know, if I were them, I would have made something up,” Dan said, “doesn’t make sense that they would give that bit of information away like that.”  
“You have a point,” Fela admitted, “but so far we have nothing that indicates otherwise, and we do have some information that confirms the claim.”  
“This whole thing just feels… off,” Dan said, “the way they’re going about it is all wrong.”  
“I know, I feel it too,” Fela replied.  
“Well, I’ll go see what I can get out of them,” Dan said and folded his arms behind his head, “this should be an interesting afternoon, if nothing else.”

Fela chuckled and glanced out the window to gauge the position of the sun.

“One more thing,” she said, “they might ask after unusual forms of magic. The kind that isn’t taught at the Circle.”  
“Hence why you expect them to ask after Morrigan,” Dan nodded.  
“Indeed, Morrigan is a known shapeshifter, but it isn’t shapeshifting they are interested in,” Fela replied.  
“Then what is?”  
“Not sure, but if you want to pique their interest, you might want to mention souls,” Fela said simply.  
“Souls?”  
“Yes, souls,” Fela replied, “like mine, being preserved when it should have been destroyed.”  
“Is that what happened?” Dan asked, “with the Archdemon?”  
“Honestly Dan, I don’t even believe in souls,” Fela replied with a shrug, “if I had a satisfying answer for them, they wouldn’t be digging around like gossiping fishwives.”  
“It’s risky, starting rumours like that,” Dan warned.  
“I know.”  
“Which is why it has to come from them…”  
“Precisely.”

“And where might I believe such unknown magic resides?” Dan asked slowly.  
“What do you know of the magic that Keepers wield?”  
“Nothing, I’m not Dalish,” Dan shrugged.  
“Are there no rumours in the Alienage?”  
“Well, some…”  
“Like I said, let them draw their own conclusions, let them come up with their own ideas,” Fela replied.  
“Alright, I think I can do that,” Dan nodded, “but if it doesn’t come up…”  
“Then you don’t mention it. Don’t make yourself a target, they’ll be less careful with you than with me.”  
“Understood.”

* * *

Dan didn’t sit in the same place Rory had, that might set off some alarm bells.

Instead, he sat a few tables over, with his back to a wall that separated the common room from one of the rooms for hire. Inside, Fela sat next to that very same wall spying through another crack that Alistair had made for her. Wide enough to give her a view of the people sitting opposite of Dan, but not so wide that it was noticeable from outside. She’d have to keep an ear to the wall, but it would work just fine.

Dan was a lot more relaxed than Rory had been, quietly humming along with the bard’s tune as he waited. He greeted the Anders Wardens warmly when they approached him, and ordered three mugs of ale.

“So, how may I help you fine gentlemen?” Dan asked and laced his fingers in front of him.   
“My name is Eduard Lichteskind, this is my colleague Simon Lange. We come from the Anderfells, collecting tales about the Fifth Blight and the people involved,” Eduard said politely.  
“Well, I work with several veterans of the Blight,” Dan said with a charming smile, “I think I might know some tales. What are you looking for?”  
“As we understand it, the Alienage was overrun by darkspawn during the Battle of Denerim,” Simon said, “we have tried some locals, but we have trouble getting people to speak to us.”

“I was there,” Dan replied with a nod, “darkspawn broke through from the gate leading to the Market Square… I was with a few others that could fight, trying to hold the main square where our Vhenadahl grows. When the Commander and the King retook the Market District, the darkspawn were cut off and we managed to push them back. Unfortunately, they were at the north gate next and we were fighting them on two sides. We just barely managed to retake the northern gate and shut it, but it couldn’t hold against an ogre. That’s when the Commander and the King reached the main square.”

“You were there when they retook the Alienage?” Simon asked.  
“Yes, it was… bloody,” Dan nodded.   
“How so?” Eduard asked.  
“The Commander took down an ogre,” Dan began, “I didn’t see everything, but I did see when it was sitting on hands and knees and collapsed. She cut its throat so deep the blood flow was… insane. It didn’t spray, it was just… wave after wave… covered her head to toe.”  
“She did that with rapiers? Her weapons of choice?” Simon asked.   
“Yeah, unbelievable, right?” Dan replied.  
“The strength that would take…” Eduard mused, “you are a Grey Warden, yes? recruited by Commander Theirin?”  
“Indeed I am,” Dan said with a slight bow.  
“So you’ve sparred with her?” he continued.  
“I have had my ass handed to me on several occasions,” Dan said graciously, “I am not exaggerating, the Commander is like a one-man army, and that ogre in the Alienage was hardly the first she ever encountered.”  
“Didn’t she have companions with her? The King, at the very least,” Simon asked with a scrutinising look.  
“Of course she did, but they were kept busy with the other darkspawn,” Dan replied, “the Grey Wardens go after the biggest, baddest enemies on the field, and non-Wardens go after the rest, simple.”  
“It’s difficult to imagine a small group of people taking on a darkspawn army like that,” Eduard said, “the sheer numbers alone…”

“Well, there is something that most people who were there aren’t even aware of that tipped the scales for us,” Dan said and watched as both men perked up.  
“Which was?” Simon asked expectantly.  
“There were two darkspawn Generals in the city. One in the Market District, and one in the Alienage. They took out the General in the Market District first, and then came straight to the Alienage,” Dan explained, “with that General dead, the darkspawn forces fell apart and then the dwarves of Orzammar reached us to hold the Alienage while the Commander and the King went after the Archdemon.”  
“What kind of General?” Simon asked curiously.  
“An emissary,” Dan replied, “the ones that use magic, except bigger and scarier looking. From what I hear, they can take a lot more abuse than regular darkspawn to die. But if you’re running around that battlefield with a Templar by your side,” Dan shrugged, “all that was left was to carve it up properly.”  
“Meaning?” Simon pressed.   
“Beheading,” Dan replied lightly, “apparently being run through and having your throat slit isn’t enough for an emissary General.”

“Can you describe what happened when the Archdemon was slain?” Simon asked.   
“Well, I wasn’t at Fort Drakon, I was still in the Alienage,” Dan began slowly.   
“Yes, we realise that,” Eduard nodded.  
“All I can tell you is that there was a bright flash, and despite the distance everyone was swept off their feet. After that, the remaining darkspawn fled,” Dan said with a shrug.

“Did your Commander ever speak about the battle with the Archdemon and what happened when she killed it?” Eduard continued, “we’ve been hearing the wildest stories.”  
“I guess it _is_ a pretty wild story,” Dan mused, “it’s not every day that someone slays a Tainted god.”   
“And? Did she speak of it?” Simon pressed.  
“Sure,” Dan said with a nod, “we asked her once, about what happened when she killed it.”  
“’We?’” Simon asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“The other junior Wardens and I,” Dan clarified, “we were curious, just like anyone else, so we asked. She has no problem with telling us about it.”  
“So what did she say?” he urged.

“First there was the battle itself, Fort Drakon was crawling with darkspawn when the Commander and the King reached the top. An Archdemon is pretty much a very large, very angry, corrupted high dragon, and an Old God too. Powerful, and the very definition of dangerous, so first they used ballistae to wound it. Meanwhile more darkspawn swarmed the place but the Circle of Magi, the Dalish Elves, and the Knights of Redcliffe under the command of Bann Teagan had joined the fight too. From what I understand, it was complete chaos. Battles always are but most of them don’t involve a rampaging dragon. It’s a huge beast, so first you have to incapacitate it. That means taking out the wings and the hindlegs, meanwhile it is going to be doing everything in its power to kill you. Anyway, at some point the Commander stopped the Archdemon from spitting fire at the King by jumping at its neck and slamming her rapiers into it. But she got thrown when it shook its head. She got up, hurled a ballista bolt at it, found another sword somewhere and charged the monster. Then she pretty much jammed the sword into the Archdemon’s throat, climbed on its head, and used the ballista bolt to stab it in the brain,” Dan finished with a flourish.

“That… is remarkably detailed for someone who wasn’t there to see it,” Simon said, slightly sceptically. Dan smiled his most charming smile.  
“Good story, isn’t it?” he asked glibly.

Fela smiled to herself on the other side of the wall. Dan was shamelessly dragging them along, and Simon was starting to get frustrated. At the same time, he had not said a single thing that they couldn’t have known already. Dan was wasting their time, dumping information on them without giving any of the interesting bits away.

“Actually, what about the flash you described earlier?” Eduard asked.  
“That, apparently came from the Archdemon,” Dan replied, “makes sense that killing an Old God is somewhat more spectacular.”  
“Do you have any idea what it was?”  
“I really couldn’t say,” Dan replied, “nobody I know of had ever seen anything like it before.”  
“Didn’t your Commander say anything about it?”  
“She did… but she said she wasn’t sure either,” Dan said slowly and fell quiet.

“Well? What did she say?” Simon asked with poorly masked frustration.  
“It’s just that, I’m not sure how much I should say,” Dan began, “the Grey Wardens are very… secretive.”  
“So we’ve heard,” Simon said with a mild sneer.  
“Now, now, no need to get catty,” Dan said playfully and wagged his finger, “I can’t go and share Grey Warden secrets with just anyone.”  
“And _why_ is that, I wonder,” Simon bit back. He was shushed by Eduard who put a hand on his colleague’s shoulder.

“We understand this is a sensitive topic,” Eduard said soothingly, “we mean no offense, it’s just that it has been difficult to get anyone to talk to us.”  
“It is a sensitive topic indeed, and for good reason,” Dan said coyly, “but I don’t see why it should matter to you. There was an epic battle, it ended with a dramatic flash of light, the audience gasps,” he made a vague gesture, “a little mystery seems like the cherry on the pie to me.”   
“It is,” Eduard said with a nod, “and it’s working. On us, at least. We are simply curious, if we can give a few vague explanations it’ll keep people talking about it. A successful story is one that is retold, what better way to stimulate that than by giving people something to wonder and argue about?”  
“Exactly,” Dan said with a mysterious smile. It was just a tease, but Eduard didn’t seem to notice that.

“Very well,” Eduard sighed, “perhaps there is something else you can tell us about.”  
“Such as?”   
“What do you know about the Dalish clan that was suffering from a werewolf curse?” Eduard opted.  
“Well… the fact that the curse was broken made it possible for the Dalish to join the fight against the Blight,” Dan began, “could you be more specific?”  
“We know your Commander went there for the treaty between the Grey Wardens and the Dalish elves, and we know there was trouble with a werewolf curse. But what we don’t know is where that curse came from and how it was lifted,” Eduard explained.  
“Ah,” Dan nodded, “I can tell you about that. The Keeper, the leader of the clan, created the curse in the first place. He was actually centuries old, sustained by the curse. But he cast it in the first place because humans tortured his son to death and raped his daughter, and left her for dead. She turned out to be pregnant, and she killed herself. So, the Keeper took his revenge by creating the curse that turned the first werewolves. And because he created the curse with his blood, he was bound to it. So long as the curse existed, so did he. That’s how he got to be centuries old. His clan thought he had rediscovered the secret of elven immortality, unfortunately he was simply bound by magic.”

“The Keeper used blood magic?” Simon asked.  
“Well, he used magic, and it had blood in it,” Dan said with a shrug.  
“So, the Commander and the King killed the Keeper and lifted the curse?” he asked pensively.  
“No, he lifted the curse himself and since the curse was gone, nothing was sustaining him anymore,” Dan replied.  
“He died lifting his own curse?” Simon asked incredulously.  
“Yes,” Dan said with a broad smile, “plot twist, isn’t it?”  
“Quite,” Eduard chuckled, “why don’t you enlighten us?”

“A werewolf can infect a person with lycanthropy by biting them, that’s what they did to the Dalish clan, attacked them systematically to infect as many as possible. This was, in fact, deliberate. You see, when the Keeper created his curse, he also created Witherfang, the first. It was from Witherfang that all later werewolves stemmed, it was their leader, in a sense. Before the Commander and the King knew why the curse existed in the first place, they met the Keeper and saw what his clan had been reduced to. The state that they were in, would not allow them to uphold the treaty with the Grey Wardens. So the Keeper asked for their help, he told them he could lift the curse if they brought him the heart of Witherfang. He essentially asked them to go into the forest and into the werewolves’ lair to kill their leader and cut his heart out. At this point, they had no idea of the Keeper’s connection to the curse. All they saw was a clan suffering from lycanthropy and a way to help them. So they agreed, and set out into the forest,” Dan explained, both men hung upon his every word, he noticed. 

“Well, they eventually reach the lair, after a lot of killing monsters, and surprise, surprise, there’s a bunch of werewolves waiting for them. But, this time the creatures speak. They have lost too many of their numbers and want the killing to stop, so they offer a parlay. I’m not kidding, this is actually how it happened. Imagine exploring a cave, and systematically getting attacked by spiders, so you kill a bunch of them, and then the spiders offer you a parlay. Anyway, the Commander had her doubts about the Keeper, and the King thinks he’s a blood mage because he needs a heart to lift a curse. So they decide to see where this leads. And it’s highly likely the Commander was simply curious, she’s funny that way. So, they go with the werewolves, and everybody behaves, and they meet the spirit of the forest. The werewolves call her the Lady, and she explains she has helped the werewolves regain their minds. It’s the curse that forces them to be like rabid beasts, but apparently they can resist it with her help. Anyway, these werewolves are the descendants of the ones that Witherfang originally infected when the Keeper created his curse. They are born as they are, they never got to be human. And they never hurt the Keeper’s children either, they want him to lift the curse. But every time they tried contacting him, he ignored their pleas. He kept that up for centuries, and the werewolves finally decided to do something drastic to force the Keeper’s hand. They infected his clan so he would have to lift the curse to save them,” Dan continued. He paused to take a long drink.

“So, from the Commander’s standpoint, the solution should be easy. Keeper lifts the curse, Dalish are saved, werewolves are happy and human, and the treaty with the Grey Wardens is honoured. That’s when the Lady explains that lifting the curse would cost the Keeper his life, she suspects this is why he has refused all those years. Somehow, the Commander manages to convince him to come speak to the werewolves and hear them out. But he still refuses to break the curse because he wants the humans that hurt his children to suffer. I guess he just kind of forgot _those_ humans are long dead. Now he is just taking revenge on people who had nothing to do with it and it is going to cost him his clan. Worse, he could have done something about it all along but didn’t, instead he tried to trick the Commander and the King into getting Witherfang’s heart so he could cure his people without lifting the curse.”

“So how did they get him to do it anyway?” Eduard asked curiously.  
“Well… I don’t know the words the Commander used, but apparently she got him to look at the situation from a logical standpoint and convinced him to end everyone’s suffering, including his own.”  
“That’s it?” Simon asked scathingly, “she convinced a man to do something that would kill him by ‘getting him to look at it from a logical standpoint?’”  
“Well, yeah,” Dan shrugged, “see, she figured out he _does_ care for his clan. So much that their suffering is enough to make him stop what he is doing.”  
“How could she?” Simon insisted, “from what we understand, the Keeper wouldn’t even _look_ at her!”

“Oh? Who told you _that?_ ” Dan asked with raised eyebrows. He was fully aware of how interesting the conversation had gotten for Fela, who was now staring through the crack in the wall so intensely she almost forgot she was in another room.

“Just a rumour,” Eduard said in a calming tone, “so many stories contradict one another, it’s quite frustrating.”  
“That’s an oddly specific rumour though,” Dan replied innocently.  
“You’re one to talk, you seem to know a lot of specifics yourself,” Simon sneered.   
“Yeah,” Dan laughed, “because I read the log the Commander kept during the Blight.”  
“It was our understanding that log was stolen,” Eduard said with a frown.   
“There is a copy,” Dan replied simply.  
“How do you know no details were changed?” Simon pressed.   
“The copy was made while the Commander was away, touring the country with the King,” Dan explained, “by a scribe, last I checked, scribes who change details about the things they get hired to write don’t stay scribes for very long.”

Eduard and Simon shared a look. The kind that had some hidden meaning behind it. Dan didn’t like that, but there was little he could do about it without giving his own advantage away.

“Listen, the guy cared for his people,” Dan began, “and he needed the Commander’s help to get Witherfang’s heart or he would have just done it himself. If she refused to help him, she would have sealed his clan’s fate. That’s why the werewolves infected them, to force his hand. And it worked. The Keeper tried to manipulate the Commander and the King into helping him solve the problem one way while there was another way all along. They figured it out, took away the option to cure the clan without lifting the curse, and then there were only two options left. Either let his clan die, or break the curse himself.”  
“That was a pretty big gamble, he could have refused to break the curse anyway and they would have lost their chance for the Dalish’ support,” Eduard said.   
“Same goes for him, it was a pretty big gamble to use the Commander and the King like that while he himself was unable to get what he needed,” Dan replied with a shrug.  
“So, they start out trying to save the Dalish clan, and then they hold them hostage?” Simon said with narrowed eyes.  
“That’s one way of looking at it, I’m pretty sure that is how the Keeper saw it,” Dan replied easily, not in the least affected by Simon’s attitude.  
“How do _you_ see it?” Eduard asked before Simon could make another snide reply.

“I think… it came down to whose need was more immediate, the Keeper’s or the Commander’s,” Dan said slowly, “essentially it was a game of chicken. Either the Keeper would relent and break the curse, or the Commander would relent and kill Witherfang, the question was, who was going to act first.”  
“And your Commander won,” Eduard nodded.  
“That Keeper paid a steep price though,” Simon added, “much steeper than your Commander would have had to pay if the Keeper had not given in.”  
“Well, now you’re just comparing apples and oranges,” Dan said with a bland look.  
“Your Commander wouldn’t have died if she had decided to act, the Keeper did,” Simon countered.   
“Yeah, and she’d miss a third of the forces she was supposed to unite with the treaties, which would have had far reaching consequences in stopping the Blight. Apples and oranges man, you’re oversimplifying it.”  
“Seems like essentially the same problem but on a national scale,” Simon shrugged.   
“It wasn’t, if the Commander could have stopped the Blight by killing herself in some blood magic ritual I think she would have done it, she wouldn’t have waited and tried to manipulate others into doing her dirty work while Ferelden was slowly being destroyed,” Dan replied, “and she didn’t create the Blight in the first place, did she?”

Simon leaned back in his chair at that, looking smug. Eduard was a bit more subtle about it, and only smiled politely.

“Are you aware that Grey Wardens aren’t supposed to survive delivering the killing blow to an Archdemon?” Simon asked slowly.   
“I am,” Dan replied, “what about it?”  
“It seems strange that you believe this woman would have gladly given her life to stop a Blight, and yet she didn’t,” he answered.  
“Alright, what do you guys know about slaying an Archdemon?” Dan asked sharply. They were starting to show their true colours, slowly dropping the act and becoming more and more sceptical about Fela’s actions and their outcomes. Both men looked slightly taken aback by Dan’s counter question.

“We know that none of the Grey Wardens before her have survived the battle with the Archdemon,” Simon said.   
“And?” Dan asked with raised eyebrows.  
“And what?” Simon asked.  
“Is that it?” Dan asked, “the predecessors didn’t survive, so she should have died too? Do you even know _why_ they died?”  
“They died because they struck the killing blow,” Simon said stubbornly, “what else is there?”  
“People don’t typically die from stabbing a monster in the brain,” Dan said airily, “I’ve done it a bunch of times and I’m still here.”  
“The Archdemon is different.”  
“How would _you_ know? Been studying Archdemons? There has only been one in our lifetime, which I’m pretty sure you didn’t get to see since you weren’t in the battle, those other four died centuries ago,” Dan replied. He had them in a corner now, though they probably didn’t know it. They didn’t know Fela was watching them, and that they were revealing more than they were getting at this moment. Plus, Simon seemed like the kind of guy with something to prove. And suggesting he was talking about things he knew nothing about set him off.

“An Archdemon is and Old God, correct?” Simon replied.  
“An Old God that has been found and corrupted by darkspawn in the Deep Roads,” Dan nodded.   
“You can’t _just_ kill a god,” Simon said, “it makes sense that some kind of sacrifice is required.”  
“Whether it is a ‘god’ in the sense that we understand the word, is debatable,” Dan answered, “and killing gods isn’t something people do every day, since there is supposed to be only one true god, or would you disagree?”  
“It’s hardly just a regular monster,” Simon started, “it’s a dragon, it has the Blight, it somehow _commands_ _darkspawn_.”  
“If that is your definition of a god, the Chantry would have a field day with you,” Dan said lightly. He smiled at the angry twitch of Simon’s face, “as for a sacrifice being required, can you name a single monster that can only be killed if it’s killer dies with it? Honestly, I don’t get why everyone is so hung up on that ‘surviving the killing blow’ part. What are people basing themselves on anyway?”  
“They are basing themselves on previous experiences,” Simon bit back.  
“Yeah, experiences they weren’t even there for,” Dan answered, “seriously, the only people who seem sceptic about that part are the people that weren’t there. Is it so hard to believe that the Archdemon was killed without taking its killer with it when everybody seems to readily believe it’s a demonic dragon god while they didn’t even _see_ it? Half of the people out there still don’t believe dragons have returned, even though there have been actual sightings.”

“So,” Eduard said and clapped his hands to regain Dan and Simon’s attention, “I think we can all agree that some of the things that have transpired are… difficult to explain.”  
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Dan replied glibly.   
“There is just one thing that keeps bugging us,” he continued.  
“Just the one thing?” Dan said innocently, “it sure sounds like there are a whole lot of things bugging you guys.”  
“And they all revolve around your Commander,” Eduard nodded, putting up a hand to keep Simon from replying to that statement.  
“It would seem that way,” Dan replied, “makes sense, considering she and the King were the only living Grey Wardens in the country.”  
“It’s just that, your Commander seems to possess some kind of… talent, or skill if you will, to make the impossible possible,” Eduard said, “convincing that Keeper to break his curse at the cost of his own life, surviving killing the Archdemon, and now she’s even pregnant while Grey Wardens are supposed to be infertile.”  
“If she _didn’t_ have a talent for making the impossible possible, we wouldn’t be sitting here,” Dan pointed out.  
“Agreed, but one has to wonder what makes her… special, if you will,” Eduard replied.  
“You mean, does she have some hidden power or some other mystic shit?” Dan said flatly and gave Eduard an amused look, “like magic or something? She has to, right, or we might all start to feel pretty impotent.”  
“Have you never noticed anything?” Eduard asked, “something you couldn’t quite explain?”  
“Like what?” Dan asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“Her influence on other people,” Eduard said, “or maybe even her control over them.”  
“Nothing inexplicable no,” Dan shrugged, “she has a way of relating to others, often that is enough.”  
“Often?” Eduard asked, “not always?”  
“It’s nothing outer otherworldly, she understands you can get more done with your smile than with your frown,” Dan replied, “people _like_ her, because she relates to them and makes a genuine effort to understand them.”  
“Like your colleague, Nathaniel Howe,” Simon chimed in.  
“Exactly,” Dan said, “don’t fool yourselves into thinking they were best friends forever when they met. It took time and a _lot_ of patience. And he _still_ isn’t quite comfortable around her, she understands that. It isn’t like she had a chat with him and his attitude made a one-eighty, it was a pretty lengthy process. I should get back to the compound, afternoon drill are about to start soon,” he added after glancing out a window to gauge the position of the sun.

“Just one more thing,” Eduard said when Dan moved to get up, “what do you know about the apostate, Morrigan?”  
“Not much,” Dan said, “she’s a shape changer, and a friend of the Commander. Why do you ask?”  
“We are interested in her knowledge about magic,” Eduard explained, “it’s not often that you find a mage that has been trained outside the Circle.”  
“That’s not exactly my area of expertise,” Dan said with a shrug.  
“Didn’t the Commander ever mention Morrigan?” he pressed.   
“Not really, not about Morrigan’s knowledge about magic anyhow,” Dan replied.  
“But she _did_ mention the witch?” Eduard continued.   
“Yeah sure, Morrigan was with the Commander and the King from the start, apparently Morrigan had a very sharp tongue and enjoyed lashing out with it,” Dan replied.  
“Any idea why she left?”  
“Job was done,” Dan shrugged, “I guess she must have longed to return to the Korkari Wilds.”  
“As we understand it, she left the moment the Archdemon lay dead atop Fort Drakon, she didn’t even stay for the festivities after their victory,” Eduard answered, “did they have a falling out?”   
“Not that I’m aware of,” Dan said thoughtfully, “but from what the Commander has told us, I’d say Morrigan didn’t enjoy the ‘civilised’ part of the world much.”  
“Any idea where she might have gone?”  
“Back to the Wilds, I guess, but I honestly have no clue. I never met Morrigan, I only saw her during the Battle of Denerim when they came to the Alienage but I never spoke to her. We were all too busy fighting.”  
“Can you tell us about the magic she used back then? When you saw her in the Alienage?” Eduard asked _just_ a little too excitedly.

“Ehm, fireballs, mostly,” Dan said, “and some paralysation spells, she did other stuff but I couldn’t tell what the effects were. Oh and ice, she froze a bunch of them.”  
“Sounds pretty standard,” Eduard nodded.  
“I guess,” Dan shrugged.  
“Did your Commander ever talk about different types of magic? Besides shape changing,” Eduard asked.  
“Oh yeah, tons of weird shit,” Dan replied, “there was a stone contraption in the Deep Roads that spat angry spirits, and the golems of course, the werewolf curse we just talked about, a tear in the Veil at a place called Soldier’s Peak, Sylvans in the Brecillian Forest, that spirit that the werewolves called the Lady, that whole debacle at the temple of Sacred Ashes, loads of blood magic in several places, there might have been a soul trapped in an amulet in the Brecillian Forest, the Witch of the Wilds, and a darkspawn necromancer when they went back to Ostagar. And that’s just off the top of my head.”  
“It’s quite the list,” Eduard chuckled, “what about demon summoning?”  
“Definitely.”  
“Healing magic?”  
“That one most of all from what I understand,” Dan replied, “she was injured in some way at least half the time.”  
“Now _that,_ is something you don’t hear in most stories,” Eduard said with a wave of his hand.  
“Yeah, she’s tough but not invincible,” Dan replied, “fighting as much as she did during the Blight, of course you’re going to get hurt. She had some close calls.”

“Anything off the top of your head?” Eduard asked with a charming smile.  
“Hmm, well first there was the Battle at Ostagar,” Dan began, “she and the King got swarmed by darkspawn and were saved by Flemeth. And then the pride demon at Kinloch Hold, nearly tore her to shreds. She was still healing when they got to Redcliffe and fixed the problem with the walking dead there, also the abomination problem. There was a brush with quiet death poison in Honnleath, apparently that’s no fun. Ehm, a punctured lung and a _lot_ of broken ribs in the Deep Roads. Got torn up by a werewolf in the Brecillian Forest. She also got electrocuted by a desire demon at some point, the muscle pain afterwards was _insane,_ she said. And finally the battle with the Archdemon.”  
“Now there is a peek behind the curtain you don’t often get,” Eduard said appreciatively.  
“The stories don’t often include it, no,” Dan said, “but believe me when I say the woman has a _lot_ of scars.”  
“She must be exceptionally tough to kill to survive that many brushes with death,” he mused, “what happened with the Archdemon?”

“By the time that battle started, she was already pretty beat up from the Battle of Denerim, nothing too serious but they didn’t exactly take a break before going after the Archdemon,” Dan said with a gesture like that much should be obvious, “but during that battle, she was shot and flung into a half collapsed wall with debris raining down on her. But what finally knocked her out, was killing the Archdemon itself. She didn’t _walk_ off that battlefield, she was carried. She isn’t entirely sure what happened, and nobody can quite explain it, but there was a bright light coming from the Archdemon when it died and it enveloped her. It hurt like hell, she said, and she couldn’t move. Then, when that flash happened, she passed out and apparently she was thrown again, lots of feet. I’m not sure how far, but far enough to _really_ hurt. Took her three days to wake up from that one.”

Simon and Eduard stared at Dan slack jawed.

Probably because he had just given some _very_ specific information on the topic. Thing was, that information was also in the log, and Dan knew they had it. Simon had given them away when he said the Keeper wouldn’t look at Fela. It was in the log, but in none of the stories he’d ever heard. The only way they could have gotten that information was if anyone who could have seen that told them. The Antivan assassin and the mage never would have shared something like that, and the other companions were scattered to the winds. That left the King, or Fela herself. And in a way, they did get it from Fela herself. It was her log, after all. Well, the dog would also know, Dan supposed, but no way in hell the four-footer leaked it, if he even could. That dog was the very definition of loyal. 

“Another rare peek behind the curtain?” Dan asked rhetorically, “I’m not surprised, it’s not very well known. People like their heroes invincible after all. You asked me how it is possible she survived killing the Archdemon. I am telling you she very nearly didn’t. But, Grey Wardens are notoriously tough to kill, Commander Theirin in particular. I think she’s just insanely lucky too.”

Dan sighed and stood.  
“That or the Maker wanted it to be so, take your pick,” he said, “I really need to get going. This was weird, let’s not do it again.” With that, he put down money for his drinks and left.

The Anders Wardens sat there in silence for a moment.

“How can one guy know so much, and so little,” Eduard said slowly.  
“You’d think he studied that log like a Chanter studied the Chant of Light,” Simon remarked dryly.  
“He’s a chatty type,” Eduard replied, “likes to hear himself talk.”  
“I don’t think we are going to get anything useful out of those recruits,” Simon said with a frown, “all they do is repeat what she probably told them. Which is nothing.” Eduard gave a half-hearted nod but didn’t reply immediately.

“Do you know what the Dalish call Flemeth?” he finally said slowly.  
“What?”  
“Asha Bellanar, the woman of many years,” Eduard replied slowly.  
“So?”  
“It might be time to head east,” he replied, “living beyond your time seems to be a theme there.”  
“Look for the Dalish? Can’t that wait until after that mongrel is born?” Simon replied with a frown.  
“If it lives, it will still be here when we return,” Eduard said simply.

“Let’s go, we’ve wasted enough time here,” he said and rose.

Fela watched as Simon trailed after him and let out a slow breath.   
“We have them looking east,” she whispered.  
“Good,” Alistair replied darkly, “this has gone on long enough.”  
“Won’t be much longer now,” Fela answered.  
“How long should we wait before we leave?” Alistair asked.  
“Let’s give them a few minutes, then send someone out to check,” Fela replied. Alistair nodded and leaned back, and resigned himself to waiting. Meanwhile Fela mulled over the things she had just heard.

She remained quiet until word came that is was safe to leave, and then all the way to the palace. When they returned to their chambers she asked a servant for a bath, and disappeared into the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys know I'm not a doctor right?


End file.
